Summary: Takes place at the end of the second movie. Sharpay and Ryan hash out their conflicts and the pain they caused each other. Ryan/Sharpay-Rypay.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
/
Sharpay liked routine and ceremony. The going-to-bed process was both for her. She washed off her make-up, and brushed her teeth, and put on her nightgown, and wished good evening to her parents, and then she met Ryan in the hallway, in between the doors to their rooms and she kissed his cheek and he kissed her forehead (because he was significantly taller than her when she was barefoot) and then they went into their rooms, shut their doors, turned off their lights, and went to sleep.
Le coucher de la princesse.
But not tonight.
The show was over, and to say the least she was not pleased with how it had gone. This was supposed to be her summer, but it had been Gabriella's summer. Just like it had been Gabriella's spring, and Gabriella's winter.
It was becoming unbearable.
Ryan was waiting for her in the hallway, unsurely.
He sensed the change in her mood from earlier in the evening. Her good humor and reconciliatory spirit had departed with the audience. He had figured that it would be a different story behind closed doors, and he wanted to face it head on. He didn't want to go to bed not knowing what her true feelings were.
She stopped in front of him and looked down at the ground, shuffling her feet uncharacteristically.
"Shar," he began, his tone hinting at an apology to come. The truth was, while regret might be too strong of a word, he wasn't without some sentiments of culpability. He thought he might have gone a little too far…
She raised her hand to stop him. "I know, I know: you want to thank me for so generously giving you the Star Dazzle award."
"It meant a lot to me," he said, tilting his head a little in an effort to get her to look up at him.
"Well, I couldn't very well let Fulton present it to me. I didn't even perform." Her voice cracked over the final word, an intimation of the emotional turmoil within. "That would've looked rigged."
He laughed. "Yeah. And the fact that an Evans has won every single year is what? A testament to our talent?"
"Exactly." After a heavy sigh, finally raising her eyes, she said, "I'm not angry, Ryan."
His expressive eyebrows betrayed his skepticism. "You're not?"
"No, Ryan. I'm hurt. I needed your help."
"You didn't deserve my help."
"No, but I needed it," she said quietly, turning her eyes from him to the wall, and for the first time since she'd sought to supplant him with Troy Bolton in the show, he truly felt sorry for her.
And then he remembered.
She must have seen an anger rebuilding in him, for the next thing she said addressed it: "This – what I did – it was never about you and me."
"That's really easy for you to say, Shar: you weren't the one being ousted. Usurped. Shoved mercilessly in the margins. "
"Don't be so dramatic: you would've had a part in the show."
"Ah, yes. Table scraps. A gracious concession from the Sharpay Evans. I'm so glad that you could have found a couple of minutes for your brother in your precious talent show."
"Ry-"
He blazed past the interruption, his rant a boulder rolling down a hill. "You tried to replace me, Sharpay! You didn't even pretend to be sorry. This was about you and me. It was about you and how little you care about me. I never had any illusions that you concerned yourself very much with me and what the stage meant to me, but at least it was always us up there, together. But now I see even that wasn't true. The first chance you got you went for Troy. Well, now you know: I can't count on you, and you can't count on me."
Sharpay shrieked, and then started balling. "I was wrong, Ryan!" she croaked. "Troy…sucked! He had none of your flair! Just ask him how much I missed you: he got annoyed at me for always saying, 'But Ryan does this' and 'Ryan does that' Maybe he can sing, but that's about it. It wasn't the same with him. It was empty and lifeless. I wanted you back almost right away, but I had something prove to Gabriella and all those wildcats. And then I had something to prove to you."
"They're nice, Shar. They accepted me. I mean, not right away, but eventually. Gabriella was the nicest out of all of them."
Sharpay rolled her eyes. "So that doe-eyed vixen got to you too? Why wouldn't she accept you? Why wouldn't they?" she asked innocently. And it wasn't the goodness of her classmates that she believed in, but in the indisputable perfection and value of her brother. "They hate me, Ryan, and you were to supposed to be on my side. The only one on my side. This show was all I had!" A fresh flood of tears was undammed. "Gabriella and Troy have each other! They have mathletes, or mathalon or whatever, and basketball, and their stupid friends. But all I had was this show, Ryan and they took it from me, like they took the last one. I tried to stop them but I couldn't." Fury flashed in her eyes. "And you helped them."
"You had me," he said quietly.
But there it was: he felt guilty again. How did she do it? He held out his arms and she dove into them, sobbing against his shoulder as he enclosed her in his embrace. She felt weak in his arms, insubstantial. They stood like that for a moment, and then he walked her into his room, still supporting her, closing his door and dimming the lights on the way.
At first they sat down side by side at the edge of the bed and he put an arm around her shoulder while she cried against him, but it wasn't long before he was lying down on his back and she was draped over his chest. Wrapped up in her emotional flood, she was amenable to the lightest nudge of his hand.
He stroked her hair tentatively. Her wails settled into hiccups and sniffles, and then silence.
By then they were both asleep.
Sharpay woke up once around 2:00 AM. She was disoriented for a second, but never alarmed by the warm mass beneath her. After a second she recognized Ryan's room and Ryan. It felt so good to be held. She smiled, shut her eyes, and went back to sleep.
If possible, Ryan was the more moved by the experience of their closeness. She fit so well against him. The cascade of honey blonde hair was the best thing he had ever woken up to. He could feel her breathing; he could feel her heart beating.
His dreams had begun dark and ended light. Something had worked itself out during the night.
Waking up together: this was something new. They may spend the whole day side by side, dance together, plot together, brush their teeth at his and hers sinks, but they always parted at their bedroom doors and last night they hadn't.
Sharpay sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Morning," she said cheerily.
He nodded, feigning sleepiness so as to avoid the revelation of what he was truly feeling. As close as he and Sharpay were, this was something else, and he was still processing it.
She slid her legs off of the slide of the bed and then stopped. "I never said I was sorry for what I did to you, Ryan, but I am." She leaned over sideways and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry for real."
"I forgive you. I love you."
