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The Cherubs
Chapter Eight: Dance
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This being in love thing was weird, as Troy was quickly finding out. It was like suddenly everything he did, he thought of Gabriella. He ate breakfast and wondered if it was the kind that Gabriella would like. He put on a shirt in the morning and wondered if Gabriella would think it would look good on him. He would see a girl on television and think of how much prettier Gabriella was.
He would pass her in the halls, and he would duck his head and blush. He'd hear her laugh echo across the classroom and his heart would pound. He'd see her smile and he'd feel a smile spread across his own face.
The worse part was how much this sucked because it didn't matter anymore. She wasn't even talking to him, wouldn't even look at him. He was in love with Gabriella, but it was too little too late. What did it matter now that she had said she was finished with him? He was going to live with his unrequited love, which he found was way worse than the actual feelings of being in love.
Oh, how it pained him to see Gabriella and not be able to talk to her, hold her, laugh with her. At this point he'd be fine with friendship; even though before it was all he wanted and now he wanted so much more, he'd accept it. He just wanted to be back in her life, just wanted her back in his.
A week had passed since their argument in the parking lot and since then Sharpay had been (to the best of her ability) prodding him along to find the perfect moment to tell her his feelings. He had told her he thought it was completely useless, but she disagreed, insisting that he at least tell her. How was he to know that it wasn't exactly what needed to be done if he didn't try? It was the most logical step, after all, but Troy strongly disagreed. He still hadn't dared look at the scrapbook she had given him. It sat at the end of the stairs untouched, and he figured it might be like that forever. He was too painful to even see it sitting there; he couldn't never go through it's contents.
He was starting to think that Sharpay was a crap guardian angel. She as obsessed with Twilight and she snuck out and she couldn't help him worth shit. Weren't angels supposed to guide you in the right direction? Not feed you to the lions. Telling Gabriella he loved her wasn't going to help anything, at any rate, it would probably just make things even worse.
After one sleepless night spent tossing and turning, remembering his sixteenth birthday and the way Gabriella had kissed him on the cheek when she gave him his present, he sat in the kitchen, swirling his Lucky Charms in his bowl and feeling sorry for himself. Sharpay sat across from him, happily eating the cereal out of the box.
She noticed he was looking particularly glum and frowned at him. He glared back.
"What?" he asked dryly, "am I supposed to be jumping for joy? It's a Friday morning, and Gabriella hasn't spoken to me in a week. Sorry if I'm a little bit pessimistic and not full of sunshine and rainbows."
Sharpay rolled her eyes and drew a heart with her fingers. He scoffed.
"You seriously suck at this angel business if you think that's going to work," he said, annoyed, "she's not going to believe me."
She stared at him, offended, before taking the cereal box and turning it upside down; dumping the contents out on the counter. His jaw fell open as millions of pieces of cereal covered the surface and rolled off onto the floor. This was her way of getting revenge, by making a mess or breaking things, and he hated it.
Goddamn, if only she could speak English and just say 'Fuck you!' It would make things so much easier.
As she flew away and he grumbled and went to get the broom, the phone rang. Not glancing at the caller ID, he picked up the phone and answered it.
"What?" he barked and there was silence on the other end. "Look, if you're a telemarketer fuck off and take me off your lists. I'm a minor, you can't sell me shit."
"Troy!" He dropped the broom at the sound of his father's voice. "Is that anyway to talk to anyone, even if they are a telemarketer?"
"Dad!" Troy yelped, sitting down on the barstool in the kitchen suddenly. He ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't spoken to either of his parents in a while, but his dad even longer. Why was he calling. "What's up?"
His father cleared his throat. "I received a phone call from Principal Matsui the other day," he said simply, "he told me you got into a fight at school."
Troy rolled his eyes. Oh. That. "No, dad, I started a fight. There's a difference."
Jack Bolton groaned on the other line, miles away in LA. "Troy, you can't just be starting fights to solve problems. What happened? Was it sports related?"
Troy stiffened. "No, dad, it was personal. It doesn't matter."
"It does so matter, Troy!" his father insisted, "you can just be getting into fights! Do you know the amount of strings Matsui pulled to keep you at East High? You should have been suspended, Troy, and that was your last chance before they expelled you! Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You can't just go beating people up because they were running their mouths about your game, it's—"
"Dad, forget it!" Troy said frustrated, "it wasn't even about that, it was about Gabriella, so just forget it."
Jack was silent again. "You got in a fight with another boy about Gabriella?"
Troy bit his lip debating whether he should say anything or not. "Maybe."
"Gabriella-Gabriella? Your best friend Gabriella? Why would you get in a fight about her?"
"Cause the guy I punched when on a date with her and he was an asshole, dad," he said plainly, "trust me, if you were here, you would have wanted to punch him, too."
Given how he had behaved, he probably would have wanted to punch Troy even more, despite the fact that he was his own son.
Jack couldn't help but laugh, knowing this was probably true. "Even so, that doesn't excuse what you did, Troy. What did Gabriella say?"
Troy was quiet for a moment. "I don't really know. She and I got in a fight. We're not speaking." We may never speak again, he thought, but didn't add.
Now Jack was really concerned. Hearing that his son was fighting was one thing, but hearing that he wasn't speaking to his best friend was another. "What? Troy, why not?"
"Just...just some stuff happened," Troy said quickly. "I don't want to talk about it."
There was another long pause and Troy considered hanging up on him. Jack sighed heavily. "Should we come home for the weekend, Troy?"
Scoffing, Troy ran a hand through his hair again, picking up the broom again. "So is that how it is, dad? I fuck up and suddenly you think you should maybe come home? It has nothing to do with, I don't know, wanting to spend time with your dear old son?"
"Troy," Jack said firmly, "you know how tight these obligations are. We can't just come home for any old thing."
"Yeah, but dad, you guys don't come home for anything," Troy spat, "so excuse me if I'm more than a little skeptical and cynical about you. I have to go. I have school, you know how tight these obligations are."
With that he hung up and slammed his phone down on the counter. He went back to quickly cleaning up the cereal, grabbed his backpack and bid Sharpay a farewell.
From her spot on the living room couch, she looked up from where she was painting each toe nail a different colour. She rolled her eyes and flicked turned back to the copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's that she was watching.
She needed to continue to do this romantic gesture research stuff. At this rate, Troy was going to need it.
Several hours later, however, Troy came bursting in the door with a wide smile on his face. Apparently, he had completely forgotten because he didn't do these kind of things, but there was a school dance tonight and he had overheard Kelsi Nielson telling Martha Cox that Gabriella was going with him and this, this was going to be his chance to tell her how he felt.
How the boy had done a total one-eighty in the span of six hours, Sharpay had no idea, but as she had said, human boys. They didn't make sense. So for the rest of the afternoon, she helped him pick out an outfit to wear and hoped to god that he would at least not fuck this up even more than he already had.
She had a back up plan for this, hence the research, but she was hoping that maybe he'd be able to fix some things on his own.
It was unlikely, she knew, but she was an angel. She had to have some kind of hope.
---
The gym was decorated elaborately with fancy lights and balloons and streamers. Troy hated it. There was lame music playing and cheap refreshments and teachers were at every corner. It was the epitome of a cliched high school dance and he wanted out. He wanted out now.
Troy fidgeted uncomfortably in his suit jacket and pants. He did not do formal functions, he hated formal functions. Oh, screw Sharpay, this was all too stressful. This was all too much. He just wanted to be at home eating Lucky Charms and counting the ceiling tiles over this.
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he debated briefly leaving. What good was this going to do anyways? The chances of Gabriella suddenly falling in his arms were slim to none: he had lost her. Yet Sharpay had been insistent that Troy go to the dance tonight, and so he had. He really, really hated it, but he went.
No one had seen him yet, he could totally just sneak out now. Tell Sharpay that Gabriella wasn't there. After all, she had given up on him. Didn't he owe it to her and himself to do the same?
Then he saw her.
She was sitting on the bleachers next to Taylor Mckessie, her lap partner and she was smiling and laughing. Her long dark hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head, loose curls falling and framing her face. She was wearing a dark purple dress that hit mid thigh, with a high collar and ruffles down the front. The skirt was pleated and flared out, and on her legs were shiny purple pumps. She threw her head back and laughed at something Taylor set and Troy felt his heart burst.
He couldn't leave.
She was beautiful and in that moment, he knew exactly why he loved her. He knew every reason, every moment that had made him fall in love. She was happy and she was tiny and she was gorgeous and she was his best friend. She knew him inside and out. No matter what he did, no matter whom he me or how well they grew to know him, they could never know him like Gabriella did.
How could he even think about leaving? How could he even consider letting her go, completely watch her fall through his fingers? She was...she was his world. Everything he did revolved around her. How had he not noticed sooner? How had he been so fucking blind?
Swallowing, he mustered up the courage from deep within him and walked across the gym towards her. He squeezed past dancing couples, arguing girls and semi-drunk jocks. People pulled him every which way, females asking for dances, males asking if he wanted to go smoke in the boy's bathroom. He ignored them. All he saw was her.
All he wanted was her.
When he finally arrived in front of her, he found that he was nearly breathless. It wasn't because he had moved so swiftly, not entirely, at least. He just felt lightweight, out of breath in front of her. God, she was so, so beautiful.
Naturally, when he came to a stop in front of her, she ignored him. He frowned, although he anticipated her reaction. Taylor Mckessie eyed him curiously out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing and Gabriella continued prattling on as if she didn't see him.
He knew she did. He saw the way she stiffened as he approached, the way the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. She was every bit aware of his presence as he was of hers.
He cleared his throat then and Taylor looked at him, happy to have an excuse to finally address him. Taylor was easily the smartest girl in the grade, and this made her easily bored, so she gossiped like an old house wife. No doubt she wanted to know exactly what was going on with Troy and Gabriella so she could proceed to tell the entire grade.
"Hi," she said with a smile, "what's up Troy?"
Troy managed a weak smile in response. "Um, not much. How's it going Taylor?"
She grinned, excited at the way Gabriella was stubbornly refusing to look at him. "I'm doing great!"
"That's awesome," Troy offered, though he could care less. "Hi, Gabriella."
When she didn't respond, Taylor nudged her harshly in the side with her elbow and Gabriella glared at her. "Go away, Troy,'" she mumbled and for a split second Troy wanted to snap at her to stop feeding into Taylor's excitement, but he refrained.
"Do you think we could talk?" he asked cautiously, his throat dry. Please say yes, he thought, please by some stretch of the imagination...say yes.
"No," she said without hesitating, "I've made it perfectly clear that we are not talking."
Suddenly, Taylor blanched and stood abruptly. "Um, you know what? I'm going to leave you two alone," she said tactfully, grabbing her clutch purse and stepping down the bleachers. Gabriella frowned.
"Taylor, stay," she said with a pointed look, "Troy can leave, he's the one who interrupted us."
The dark haired girl shook her head and Troy mentally rolled his eyes. She was off to spread her gossip; she had gotten the smallest snippet that she could use to tell people that there was in fact a story going on between them, but not enough to be considered rude or that she was doing any wrong. Typical.
"No," she said, stepping back onto the floor, "I'll go. You guys stay. Talk."
With that she ran off, Blackberry in hand, and Troy and Gabriella were left alone. She ignored his gaze once more.
"What are you doing here, Troy?" she asked, sounding aggravated, "I don't want to talk to you anymore, you know this. I'm done with you. Are you just here to ruin my night?"
Her words cut him a little deeper than he had expected. Everything she said had a much harsher aftertaste than they had before now that he knew he loved her. It hurt more, stung more, slipped underneath his skin just a tiny bit more. He cringed and ran a hand through his hair.
"What?" he said and her eyes snapped up to his then, hearing the pain in his voice, "no, Gabriella, I came because...I don't know, I know you like these things, so..."
She laughed bitterly. "So what, you thought you could just waltz up here and ask me to talk and we'd make off like happily ever after and be friends again because you did one nice gesture for me in the last forever? Nice try, Troy."
As she stood to leave, Troy felt himself inwardly panic. No, don't go! he thought, I can't let you go. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her backwards. She glanced at him warily and he sighed.
"So you won't talk to me," he summarized, "but would you...um, could...can I...do you—?"
"What, Troy?" she snapped and he dropped her wrist, surprised at her tone. "What are you trying to say?"
"Will you dance with me?" he blurted out and he saw the shock register on her face. She hadn't been expecting that. "You don't even have to talk to me, just...just one dance. Then I'll leave, let you get back to...to your friends."
She stared up at him with wide eyes and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, excepting her to scoff and walk in the other direction. However, instead she shrugged and nodded. "Fine, just one dance. Then you leave."
Wait, she said yes? He wasn't expecting this, what now? He didn't know how to dance, he didn't dance with girls?! Oh, fantastic, this was going to turn out great. As luck would have it, the upbeat tempo that was playing suddenly turned softer, slower, and the two watched as people around them began to couple up. Gabriella cocked her eyebrow.
"Still want to dance with me?" she asked, "or will your run away and say that it was a mistake after, too?"
He tried not to glare at her. He knew she was angry, but geez, he was trying! Defiantly, he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her against him, leaning over and whispering in her ear.
"Most definitely."
She flushed so hotly then he felt the heat increase through the thin material of her dress, saw the red appear on the tips of her ears. "Oh," she all but squeaked, "okay then."
Hesitantly, as if she were afraid he would burn or strike her, she lifted her hands and looped them behind his neck, and he drew her even closer. Despite his two left feet, they swayed gently to the music.
They moved awkwardly, yet he had never felt so comfortable. She fit perfectly in his arms, like she was meant to be there, and he reveled in how close she was, how he could smell her scent. She always smelled so good.
"This is weird," she mumbled, bouncing on her toes anxiously.
He nodded. "Maybe a little. It's not too bad, though, is it?"
She shrugged. "It's not horrible, but I wouldn't say it was bad."
To him, this was a victory. Not only had she started the conversation, but she had almost said it wasn't a bad thing to be dancing with him! This was progress, things could only get easier from here, right?
"H-how have you been?" he asked cautiously. Being this close to her and being so unable to touch her, to really talk to her was killing him. He hated it, he just wanted to fall into the same happy bantering conversations they would have or kiss her full on the lips. Either one and he'd be more than happy with the night.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he felt his heart pound even more at the sight. "Better than I've been in a while," she said, and he couldn't tell if she was being truthful or not. "It's been easier to...to breathe, lately, if you know what I'm saying."
He didn't. Troy was suffocating without her. He felt like had lost a limb or a lung or...or his other half or something ridiculously cliche and lame. But it was true, it was so, so true.
"Um, that's good..." he trailed off and looked down.
Gabriella ducked her head down. "You look good, Troy," she whispered and he felt his heart flutter. Flutter like he was some chick. He couldn't help it, her words were overpowering.
Suddenly he couldn't help himself, the words were overflowing like a cup filled to the brim. He needed to talk to her, needed to tell her how he felt. He needed her to know how much she meant to him, how much he knew that he fucked up.
"I've missed you, Brie," he said quietly, "a lot."
She closed her eyes and tensed. "Troy, don't do this. You don't miss me, you just miss having someone around."
He bit his lip, feeling his heart pound. "No, Gabriella, that's not true. I miss you. I miss you so much and I just want to go back to the way things were."
"Why?" she inquired, looking up a him with a hard gaze. "You just don't want to be alone, Troy. You can live without me, I know you think you can't, but you can."
"It's not that, Gabriella!" he said, his tone harsh, "how can you not think that I wouldn't miss you? That you wouldn't mean something to me after all of these years? God, you've been my best friend practically my entire life—"
"I've told you, Troy," she said quietly, "you want to be best friends and I'm in love with you. It's not that simple."
His hands tightened on her waist then. "But Gabriella, what if I...what if I didn't just want to be friends anymore?"
It was out in the open now and he felt Gabriella freeze. She stilled her movement and up at him with huge, scared eyes. "W-what?"
"I—" he swallowed, feeling so flushed and lightheaded that he was worried that he might pass out. "I just...I've been doing some thinking."
She stared at him. "Thinking?"
He nodded, and then shook his head. "Well, no, not really, but I...I realized something."
He cupped her cheek in his hand and on instinct, she leaned into his touch. He stroked his thumb over her soft skin and her eyes fluttered shut. He sighed.
"You're beautiful, Gabriella," he said and he heard her breath hitch, "and I should have told you before. I should have been more aware instead of...instead of sleepwalking through this entire year and I just...everything that's happened has made me realize something I've kind of known all along."
"I know this is sudden," he babbled, "and I know that it doesn't make sense and it sounds stupid but, I—"
She placed her hand over his and squeezed it suddenly. "What?"
He looked down into her eyes, feeling like a walking cliche, but he shrugged the feeling off. This was so damn hard, how did people do this? How did Romeo and Edward Cullen and Jack Dawson; how did they just spout out flowery romantic words and manage to say exactly what they were feeling? How could they articulate it so well?
His words weren't going to work. So instead, he decided to show her.
Bending down quickly, he pressed his lips to hers. God, it felt good to kiss her; he had only been imaging it since he had first done it two weeks earlier. He brought her bottom lip between his and pulled gently, kissing her sweetly, lovingly. She responded once and then he broke away, giving her a moment to digest what had just happened.
She brought a hand up to her mouth and her eyes were wide. "Troy," she said seriously, "what?"
Here goes, he thought. "I...I love you, Gabriella," he whispered. "I've loved you for so long that I don't even remember a time when I didn't. I just never realized, never noticed, was too afraid that—"
"No," she cut him off and he paused.
"W-what?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. He started to feel things unravel then and he wanted to grasp on to them desperately, get some sort of a grip on what was happening. "Gabriella—"
"No, Troy," she said and her eyes were angry then, clouded with tears. "No, you don't get to do this."
He brought his other hand to the other side of her face and held it within his hands. "What, Gabriella, do what?"
'This!" she exclaimed, yanking his hands off of her. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to tell me you love me and suddenly everything will be all better. You don't get to show up at this dance and act like you're making some huge romantic gesture just because you know I like them!"
She swiped at the tears that were falling down her cheeks. "God, what the hell is this? I'm crying at a fucking high school dance. Is this an episode of Degrassi?"
He reached out to her, the tears on her face killing him. "Don't cry, Brie."
"Don't call me that!" she hissed. "God, I am so goddamn sick of crying over you, Troy! I'm so sick of you jerking me around, pulling me in every single direction. I'm sick of fighting with you, I'm sick of being angry with you, I'm sick of this."
She smoothed out the skirt of her dress and let out a deep breath. "I'm sick of you, Troy," she said finally. "I can't do this anymore. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that."
"But Gabriella," he pleaded once more, "why aren't you listening? I love you. I'm in love with you."
"Why didn't you listen, Troy?" she demanded, "when you kissed me, why didn't you think about what it meant? When we slept together, why didn't you stop? Why didn't you open your goddamn eyes in the last three years and see what it all meant?"
"Why do you get to tell me you love me and suddenly it makes all the difference?" she swallowed, "what makes your affection so much stronger than mine? Is it just supposed to make everything all of a sudden better?"
He could feel her getting angrier and wished that she would calm down, that he could think of something to get her to calm down. But as it was with everything he did with Gabriella in the last year, he had no idea how to go about it. So instead he merely said nothing.
"And as a matter of fact, how do I know you're not lying?" she asked, "how do I know you're not just saying this because you wanna be friends again? You'll romance me for a few weeks, get laid a few times and then dump me because you want to go back to being friends because it's all you wanted all along. How do I know you won't do that?"
He glared at her. "I would never do that to you, Gabriella."
"Well, you did!" she snapped, "you did, Troy. You slept with me and then the next day, you tried to shove me out of your life. So fuck you, stop bothering me for Christ's sake and move the fuck on."
She turned on her heel to leave before glaring at him once more. "And you know what, Troy?" she said and her voice was once again like venom. "You blame yourself for what happened last year. I see it in your eyes everyday. Stop, because you are never going to be happy and you will never love anyone fully until you accept that."
With that she turned to leave and Troy was once again standing alone. She had once again walked away and he was once again left with nothing. This was the third fight they had had since that night and he could feel his shoulders slump.
She kept saying she couldn't do this anymore. But how could he let her go? He couldn't. Pulling his jacket off, he tossed it over his shoulder and smoothed out his t-shirt before walking out of the gym.
He loved that girl with all of his heart and he would be damned if he wasn't able to tell her. He would be able to tell her.
---
"We're gonna rule the school this year, the three of us," Chad said fondly.
"Hey, what if I decide to go and branch out this year?" Gabriella asked coyly, "you know get some female friends of my own?"
"Ha ha, as if, Gabs," Chad said as the light turned green and Troy began to cross the intersection. "we're gonna be friends for life, till the day we die, till—"
His sentence was cut off as the black van ran through the red light and collided with his side of the truck and Gabriella screamed. Then the car skidded across the road before coming to a halt in the middle of the intersection.
Barely conscious, Troy lifted his head from the airbag and saw a stream of red across his eyes. Oh what the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. He heard Gabriella sobbing hysterically in the backseat of the car and he shifted as best as he could, his right arm protesting in pain as he did so.
"Brie," he croaked, feeling lightheaded. She was crumpled in the backseat, tears streaming down her face and her arm was bleeding profusely, a large scrape covering her forehead. He winced at the sight of the red liquid.
"T-troy," she cried, "oh god, oh god, oh god. C-chad."
He turned then and saw Chad slumped over in the passenger seat, a violent red gash on his forehead and Troy passed out just as Gabriella let out another scream.
Three days later, Troy and Gabriella found themselves in the emergency room at the hospital, both of their arms in a slings and bandages on their foreheads. Their parents stood around them, crying and yelling, arguing with each other about how this had happened, what happened and mostly taking out the fear that they had felt upon receiving the phone call that their children had been in an accident out on each other.
Troy had gotten out nearly scott free. He had a broken arm and a cut above his eyebrow, some bruise and a couple more scrapes, but other than that, he was fine. Gabriella had suffered slightly more, her arm also broken, but the bone had pierced the flesh, causing her to get several stitches. She also had a mild concussion and her back had scraped against the metal of Troy's car door as they had pulled her out. They sat in waiting room, Gabriella's head resting against Troy's shoulder as the awaited the news of their third member of the group.
Chad had been on the side that was hit head on and had sustained a serious head injury, causing heavy internal bleeding. He had been drifting in and out of conscious the last three days and was set to go in for some reconstructive surgery that afternoon. Troy didn't know all of the medical details, and Gabriella and her years of high school biology strained to understand it. All they knew was that there was a chance that Chad wouldn't make this out alive and the very thought killed them.
Their trio would be a twosome, and although in many instances, they had been a duo on their own, Chad still balanced them out. They couldn't imagine life without him, without he and his stupid basketball and his stupid partying ways.
Gabriella sniffled slightly and Troy wrapped his good arm around her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "It's going to be okay, Gabriella," he whispered, kissing her temple. "It'll be alright, I promise."
She shook her head. "But what if it's not," she asked. She had cried more in the last three days than she had in her entire life. "What if it's not okay? Troy, I don't know what to do..."
He held her to him more tightly, watching his mother, Maria Montez and Chad's mother pace back and forth, bickering slightly. The stress of the last few days was getting to all of them.
"He'll be alright, Brie," Troy promised, "he's Chad, after all. He wouldn't leave us, he couldn't. It'll be fine, it's a fighter."
Deep down inside, Troy wasn't nearly as confident as he was pretending to be. He couldn't imagine what his life was going to be like without Chad, and quite frankly, if Chad didn't make it through this, Troy wasn't sure he could live with himself. He had been driving, sure, a drunk driver had hit them, but he was still in the driver's seat. He was still responsible.
If Chad died, it would be his fault.
He needed Chad to live. Chad was his best friend, he couldn't live with the knowledge that he had killed him. He just couldn't.
His parents and Gabriella's mother had flown in upon receiving the news and Troy couldn't help but feel terrible that it was under such awful circumstances that they were reunited, that he saw his parents for the first time in weeks because he fucked up. Oh, this was so entirely fucked up. He buried his face in Gabriella's hair, hoping for some comfort, and as if sensing that he needed someone, she reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing gently.
Hours passed and the families stood waiting for the results of the surgery. Eventually, the doctor in his white coat came out, a grim look on his face and it was with his deepest regrets that he told them that Chad had started bleeding during surgery and that they were unable to stop it. That he had died.
As Gabriella broke against him, gasping and crying in sobs and heaves like had never heard before, Troy paled instantly and said goodbye to a part of himself.
He had killed his best friend. He was responsible.
Gabriella wrapped her arms around his neck and cried harder and he held her, hoping that he could be strong enough for the both of them in that moment, but knowing that things would never be the same after this.
Troy woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat and shuddering. The dreams were back at full force. No matter how many times he forced his eyes closed and fell asleep, he'd still see the images, still hear the voices. He'd still see Chad's mother fall to her knees, still see Maria and his mother embracing in pain. Still would see the puddle of coffee that covered the floor when his and Chad's father returned form a coffee run and dropped the cups on the ground upon hearing the knees. Still would remember how hot Gabriella's tears had felt against his neck.
He sat up in bed and brought his hands to his face and cried. It felt good to cry, to let out the pain that he had been feeling. Feeling the loss of Chad and now Gabriella and hearing the empty echos of the house. Across the room, Sharpay was tucked up like a cat again, breathing slowly, and he found even this image could not take away the pain.
Just when he felt like it was getting too much, that he couldn't take anymore, he heard his cell phone buzz. Confused, he reached over and picked it up, flipping it open and seeing he had a new text message.
"Are you okay?" the message read and his heart fell over itself when he saw it was Gabriella.
Gabriella. The connection was still there, she still...it was like nothing had changed. He felt his throat constrict at the sight of her message and more tears slipped down his cheeks.
He typed a quick response, telling her it was no big deal and to go back to sleep. He expected to get nothing in return, but felt his phone vibrate once more.
"Want to meet up?" she had asked, "it's a rough night for me, too."
"I thought you hated me," he typed back.
"Troy...meet or no?"
"Yes. Where?" he answered. He glanced at Sharpay, but didn't think to wake her. He'd be back before sunrise and quite frankly, he had a feeling she knew better than to run off again.
"Cemetery," was the response and he felt a chill run up his spine. "I think we have some things we need to deal with."
He shivered as he dressed quickly, sending her another quick message that he would be right there. She was right.
It was time to take a deep breath, deal with their past and then take a step forward. If he wasn't so scared about what this meant, he would be thrilled at the prospect that she still cared.
The sentiment wasn't lost on him, but between the nerves and the fear of what would happen next, he didn't pay much attention to it.
Pulling a hoodie over his head, he zipped it up and opened the French doors that lead outside before making his way to the front of the house and starting down the street to the cemetery.
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Yo, I am so pleased with myself! I updated on Sunday, promised myself I'd get the Anastasia fic out yesterday and an update out tonight and I did! :D YAY ME!
Next update will be this weekend, hopefully, if I'm not dead from store inventory. Hence why I updated so quickly.
I am a little obsessed with this chapter's track, so you know~ Go download.
