Chapter 2

"I get so many flashbacks watching you in this room".

It was late at night when Troy Bolton had finally made it home after a whole day of 'welcome backs' and 'missed yous', a day full of people staring at him, hugging him, pulling him, feeding him.

Yes. Feeding him. God knows why, as soon as a woman who had watched him grow up saw him, he ended up with a mouthful of cookies and homemade pies. It was undoubtly great to be so ''loved'' by his fellow citizens but no matter how much he appreciated it, he couldn't help but feel like those cookies were poisoned with an insane hunger for fame.

Everybody wanted to know about his life in the big city, the great parties, how it feels to be a celebrity known in every corner of the world, just so they could go around bragging about knowing him. Nobody was truly happy he was back, nobody truly cared about his wellness. Well, nobody except a few people and one of them was standing at the door frame. His mom.

She had her arms crossed and a sweet smile on her face, which didn't look good on the other hand. Wrinkles had started to spread over her shaped features, her lips had grown thinner and her once perfectly plucked eyebrows were now balder. She looked tired, frankly exhausted and as he saw her hunched shoulders, he felt a pinch in his heart. How many years of quick calls, conventional Christmas greeting cards and unknown gifts had he made through his secretary? All those years faking not to have a family and now here he was, looking at that aching figure who still loved him more than anything else in the world, no matter how much pain she had gone through during his absence.

She stepped into the room and came to sit next to him on the bed. The mattress shifted slightly under her light weight and her delicate hand touched his stubbled cheek.

"My little boy..", she pleaded, as he leant onto her palm, needy of her caresses.

He closed his eyes as her lips touched his forehead.

"Mom.. I'm sorry", he looked into her eyes and gulped down the lump in his throat.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, honey",

"Yes, there is. I shouldn't have left like that. I should've of been here with you and dad, I should've of helped you!", he got up angrily from the bed and pulled at his hair. She watched his back and folded her hands in her lap, calmly speaking out.

"Do you really think that would've changed anything? It happened, Troy. It's no one's fault",

"If I were here, you-",

"Stop it, now", she abruplty interrupted him.

"Whether here or in New York, it would've happened anyway. It's in the past, Troy. I loved her already too, with all my heart. But playing whose fault is it won't give her back to us. You think I haven't cried? That I haven't felt angry towards God for tearing her away just like that? I have. Many times. I wanted to crash everything, I wanted to just get up from my bed and break those white, sad walls and run away. But I haven't. And you know why? 'Cause your dad needed my strength more than I needed his. You know how he is, he wants to act like the big caveman, but deep down he's a lot softer than he makes out to be. He was hurting too, so much. So we cried together, we mourned together and then kept going on with our life. Together. Always together, no matter what horrible of a thing the destiny had prepared for us", she touched her heart, licking her lips, as Troy puffed out a gasp of air.

"That's exactly what you need to do, honey. You can stay here all you want, you can leave tomorrow or next year or never again, I don't mind. But when the time comes, you need to let go and go on with your life, with or witho-", she didn't even get to finish that she found him kneeling down, with his head on her lap and rivers of tears on his cheeks. He held onto her for dear life, as she rocked him touching his hair.

"Shh, it's okay to cry, baby. Get it all out", and so he did. Until he had no more tears left.

Albuquerque, 8.00 am.

When he was in New York, he had to wake up at almost 4 am. to go jogging without being papped. It was sort of a relief to be able to go at a reasonable time with the only risk of being stared at by young teens waiting for their bus.

He had started off with a light run, from his house to Mr Jameson's Carwash, then he had taken the dusty road in the countryside that led to the abandoned Wilkinson Residence, an old Victorian Palace that had been turned into a residence during the 50's. It had been abandoned in 1993, when Jeremy Wilkinson died leaving no heir.

Circling around it, his eyes scanned the crusty walls and the rotten capitals hiding the eaves of the house. It was a beautiful place, with a great structure that only needed a little working, it was such a shame it had been left like that.

Going back in town, he ran all the way to East High. He slowed his pace to a fast walk and then came to a stop right in front of the school crowded by students engaged in funny conversations about lord knows what

. He looked at the entrance, he scanned the slightly darkened letters held high under the clock. EAST HIGH. Soon, images of his teenhood started flashing back into his mind. Old school trips, pranks during lessons, parties, games, his friends, his wildcats.. He smiled at the thought of his old mates and all the crazy things they did in the past, just in time to feel a ball hitting his neck.

"Ouch!", he touched his nape, rubbing it slowly and turned back to see his attacker. As he locked eyes with a coffee skinned and short cut haired man, his mouth fell down.

"What? You thought you could come back just like that, without telling your bestfriend, and get away with it, asshole?", the man spoke out, resting the ball on his hip with a serious expression.

Troy fell out of his trance and pulled himself together.

"Well, obviously not, dickhead", he crossed his arms and tried to remain serious. Seconds passed before they both lost their composures, erupting in laughter together.

"Come here, idiot!", Troy pulled the man into a hug, as the ball rolled on the floor and they patted eachother's backs. "It's so good to see you, Chad. It's so good to be back, man, I've missed this place," he said, releasing his friend and holding his shoulder.

"It's so good to have you back! I almost can't believe you're here. When did you arrive? I've heard rumors about you being back, but I had to see it with my eyes!", Chad confessed, patting his friend's elbows and then pulling him next to him, hugging his shoulders, "let's go! There's so much we need to talk about!"

"Like what? The fact that you've shaved your bush? Jeez, man. You look uglier than usual!"

"Look who's talking, Mr Cullen!", Chad rubbed his hair and pushed his head away, as he let his bag fall on the ground in the outdoor basketball court. He hung his whistle around the neck and took his warm up suit off as Troy leant on the network circling the court.

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that you know a character of the Twilight saga or that I look like one", the blue eyed man patted his hair, throwing the ball he had collected at his friend.

The good, ol' Chad. Friends since diapers, the two had always been inseparable. Or at least until the day he had chosen to run away. When he had told Chad he wanted to leave Albuquerque and quit it forever, he had expected him to ask to come along, but he hadn't. Instead, he had asked him to stay. Back then Troy had thought he was jealous, that he wanted to prevent him from becoming a huge, international basket superstar, but obviously that wasn't the case: Chad was simply being the good friend and trying to stop him from making a huge mistake, from leaving behind what he had built in the past, from leaving behind his happiness.

Troy looked down at his wrist, rubbing it slightly as his thumb traced his vein. Somebody else used to this to him, somebody whose smile brightened up his days, somebody he had left behind and he had lost forever.

"You're thinking about your dad, aren't you?", Chad's sudden interruption made his eyes dart up. The look on his friend's face made his stomach churn with regret.

"I've been away for too long, eh?", he fake chuckled, "you shouldn't be the one helping him in school, it should be me".

The once curly haired man kept on getting ready, as he talked to him.

"You know I've always been straight-forward with you. You fucked up, big time. But none of us is blaming you for going away and certainly not your dad. You did what he had always wanted", he fastened his training shoes before standing up and looking him in the eyes.

"He's really proud of you. He always talks about how much you've accomplished and how great of a son you are. I've never seen anyone love a son as much as he loves you. Anybody would kill to have a dad like yours, including me. What's done, is done. Just... Now that you're here, don't fuck things up again, okay?".

There was a moment of silence between the two, with Troy elaborating what Chad had just said. His friend wasn't known to be the serious type, but when he made such heartfelt speeches, it only could mean one thing: he was being dead serious.

He smiled sadly, leaning his head back. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. What was going on with his family was something bigger than him, he couldn't face it. At least, not yet.

So he chose not to reply and change the subject, for the sake of their friendship. He knew that if he told Chad the truth about his feelings and let his mind speak, his friend would have supported him but deep down he would have pitied him and something in their relationship would have been broken forever.

"How's going with Kelly?", he asked sincerely.

Chad chuckled, before replying.

"How do you think it's going? Pregnant women are insane!",

"Yeah. Who would've thought, back then, that you'd be the one to have kids? Funny how things can change..", he pulled himself off the fence, "Well, I better go. Mom wanted me to get some groceries, she says she hasn't got enough food to feed the prodigal son!"

Before their hands could touch, a sweet, melodious voice rang in the air. A voice that was persistent in his dreams, in his mind, in his heart. A voice he had never forgotten, even after 10 years.

"Troy? Troy Bolton?"