A/N: Hey. Readers. Yeah, you. I know you're clicking on this story. I know you're reading it, absorbing it and loving it the way Ryan loves Troy. Would it be so hard for you to click that button at the bottom of the screen and leave me a few words on exactly what it is that you like? I know I'm not rendering all of you speechless. I greatly appreciate my readership, really, you guys have no idea, but would some feedback every now and then kill you guys?

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. I do however own the book of plays by Oscar Wilde that is mentioned, and he was an author beyond words. I also own David, the oc that is mentioned although that is nothing to be proud of.

Warnings: Foul language and sexual content.

Chapter 10: Isolation

"Ryan, get up!"

The blond male gave a jolt as his sister's voice called his name. Stunned, he pondered what could have possibly made her acknowledge his existence. Joy and terror, two heavily contradictive forces, swelled within him. Whatever reason Sharpay had for coming to him, it couldn't be good.

"Come on, I said up!" She demanded. "Get dressed, I would like to go shopping with you."

Huh. Why doesn't she take Zeke or one of her other peons? He wondered to himself. When did I become an asset to her? He would not dare question her, however. She was his sister, and whether or not she cared or couldn't give two shits about him did not matter.

"Alright," he called in response. Wearily sitting upright, he stretched out his tired body. "Carpe diem," he muttered balefully and pulling the covers aside, he crawled out of the warmth and safety of his bed. This time, Troy would not be there to catch him when he fell.

Stepping out of the changing room in a sequined top, Sharpay posed in the manner of a model at a photo shoot. "How does this look?" She asked her brother.

"Great," he replied with a half smile. For three hours that was how the routine went. They were actors. They pretended that their interaction was not empty and falsified. That the atmosphere between them was not so tense and thick as one could cut through it with a meat cleaver.

To any passerby, they were the Evans twins; Sharpay flaunting her god given beauty for all to see and Ryan praising her extraordinary appearance.

To Ryan himself, his sister's brown eyes were vacant , regarding her brother as a stranger or an estranged relative rather than the twin she shared everything with. He was exhausted, his gaze hollow and his stance reluctant.

Once he enjoyed his sister's company, now he absolutely dreaded facing her and the accusatory gleam in her eyes. The warmth that had existed between them simply dissolved over the summer. Cringing, he recalled all of the harsh words she had spat at him, her eyes a blaze with a fury he had never paid witness to. The sting of her palm against his cheek was still felt sharply almost a month later as it was in the past. It was as if he were to look, he would see the outline of the blow, red against his white pallor.

"uYou worthless faggot! How could you?! Look at what you made me do, all because you couldn't keep it in your pants, you little whore!!" Sharpay screamed, fury blazing in her eyes. She was apoplectic.

All that Ryan could do was stand his ground, his face stricken with a terrified expression. He was helpless to do anything as his twin lashed out at him, her anger searing his innards. He could feel everything; misery, loathing, spite, radiating from her crippling waves. "Sh-Shar, I didn't… It was David… I wouldn't…!" He struggled to summon the words that would suffice to spare him form his sister's infamous wrath.

"Save it!" She snarled, her pretty face contorting into a mask of ire. "I know you seduced him! David would never betray me. Quit lying to me, you little bitch!!"

Her arm swung out, her hand connecting with his face. Ryan found himself on the ground, shaking as his twin's emotions and his own intermingled, overwhelming him. Pain shot along his visage, stinging horribly as it mixed with the internal agony. Tear welled in his orbs of blue, blurring his vision. "I didn't… I didn't…" he sobbed, curling into a fetal position on the floor. Biting on his arm, he bit back a cry of pain, his body shaking. He felt her gaze rake over him in disgust ne final time before deciding that he wasn't worth it. She whirled on her heels and padded silently away, the tails of her pink silk robe trailing the ground behind her.

She left him there, a pathetic, sniveling wretch lying in a heap on the floor…

"Ryan! Ryan!"

Shaking his head, the blond left the flashback behind him, rubbing his nasal cavity as it began to throb in pain. Suddenly he felt very queasy and ill.

"Ryan!" His sister called for a third time.

He looked up, his eyes wide with fear. You're not the victim here, his inner voice chided. She is. Remember that.

Sharpay placed her hands on her hips. She had changed back into her own clothing. Her monochromatic checkered skirt matched her brother's argyle sweater. Her top was a sparkling gold that complimented the hip-hugging dress slacks of her male twin. "About time. Grab the bags. I'd like to leave." She stared at him as if expecting a reply.

What am I supposed to say that will please her? "Yes your majesty?"

When he remained silent, she click-clacked ahead, leaving him to gather the parcels uncovered during their expedition. As he floundered, attempting to pile four shoe boxes and five shopping bags into his arms for transport, the box at the top of the stack slid off before he could react and the lid popped off on impact, spilling the diamond encrusted sandals it held onto the floor.

Flustered, Ryan let out a despairing sigh. Before kneeling to retrieve the bedazzled footwear, he caught himself looking around for a mop of shaggy brunette hair, encouraging and helpful ocean colored eyes and strong, supportive arms. He half expected to hear that rich, easy voice saying, "Whoa, careful, Ry!"

But he should have known better. "Stupid!" He muttered. "He isn't here, you ignorant poof!" Sighing, he felt a pang of sadness infiltrate his heart, which had become all too easy these days. Re-situating the baggage, he set off, click-clacking in the direction his twin had gone.

"I know!" Sharpay chirped, her tone syrupy sweet. Absent-mindedly, she twirled a lock of her golden blond hair. Beside her sat her brother Ryan, attempting to block her out by immersing himself in a book he had purchased.

Mist from the mall's fountain wet the floor before them, casting a reflection of Ryan's dismayed face.

"Aw Zeke, really?" His sister cooed. A few mall-goers stared, wondering if the bubbly female was cerebrally stable.

His eyes focused intently on the pages of his book, a collection of plays written by Oscar Wilde, Ryan could only pick up snippets of his sister's conversation with the other male. Currently, the characters Cecil Graham and Lord Darlington were having a conversation on the topic of women they fancied and how falling in love affects a man's attitude in the play titled "Lady Windermere's Fan".

Cecil Graham: What is a cynic?

Lord Darlington: A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Cecil Graham: And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is man who sees an absurd value in everything and doesn't know the market price of a single thing.

"I know!" Sharpay squealed giddily. "See you soon. Bye Zekie!" Quickly, she hung up and was on the phone with another in an instant. "Daniel, Ryan and I are at the mall."

How foreign her own brother's name had become on her lips.

"I need you to pick us up and pick up my beau Zeke… Yes… Ah, the sound proof limo, if you please."

When Sharpay said, "if you please" as Ryan knew, it was not a matter of whether her addressee was inclined to do as she asked of them or not. They simply did so. No questions asked. And, cringing to himself once again, Ryan knew that Sharpay was stressed out and when an Evans was stressed out, they did one of two things; vent or indulge.

Mrs. Derby Evans, their mother took to the study of yoga to rid herself of negative feelings.

Mr. Vance Evans, their father, relied on a round of golf to soften out the hard edges of his mood.

Ryan took after his mother. He studied yoga and learned the techniques to prevent himself from having another anxiety attack. He did not want a repeat of the seventh grade when the class tarantula some how made a great escape and was found to be nestled in his favorite flat top. After several minutes of hyperventilating, he eventually blacked out. When he re-awoke, he was at home, on his bed with the words "loser fairy" written on his forehead in bright red ink. Of course, in real life, the application of such techniques did not always come easily, and these days now that Troy Bolton has become a major force in the direction of his life, a second pair of hands upon the wheel, he began to lean more toward the methods of his sibling.

In this case, Sharpay found herself with nothing to vent about, so indulging would just have to suffice.

His stomach churning, Ryan stared ahead, his gaze listless and unfocused. He squirmed uncomfortably as the pleased grunts and eager sighs of the tall athlete and his sister filled the vehicle from the seat beside him.

Their bodies tangled together, Zeke ran his fingers through the sweet waves of Sharpay's golden hair, mussing it up.

In his mind, the younger twin recalled the sensation of Troy's hands exploring him. How he longed for that now. Jolts of the feelings his sisters was experiencing shot through the circuitry that had connected them since birth; shame, indignation, euphoria, bitterness.

He heard her familiar giggle as Zeke fingered her bra strap.

It was too much. He found himself gasping for air. The gastric juices of his stomach churned violently and the couple of cheese fries he had eaten at the food court were rising up, ready to achieve fame by leaving behind an aftertaste that would linger for hours. He gulped down the foul tasting fluid, but he knew that it would rise again. Reflexively, he clapped a hand over his mouth. It was futile. His self-control was completely abandoning him. Summoning up what remaining control he had, he pushed the button for the intercom. "…Daniel,"

"Yes?" The chauffeur answered calmly. "Mr. Evans?"

"Pull over please…" Spasms assaulted the ailing organ. He gulped down the vile substance for a second time. "NOW!"

The dark-haired young man obeyed and parked the sleek black vehicle beside the curb.

Flinging open the door, the blond male staggered onto the devil strip and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass. Finishing the foul deed, he wiped his sleeve along his mouth, staining it with remnants of vomit. Miserably, he looked toward the vehicle where Daniel was watching him with a look of revulsion. The driver made no attempts to assist him.

Sharpay and Zeke were too preoccupied to care.

They probably haven't even noticed that I'm gone.

Shaking with exhaustion, a lonely ache twisted his heart. I miss Troy. I miss him so fucking much right now! He imagined the golden boy's strong tanned arms wrapped about him, carrying him back to the vehicle, concern blazing in those eyes that penetrated his soul. Shakily, he made his way to the limousine. No one can help you. No one will help you. No one gives a shit.

Troy does, a meek voice asserted. Trudging back to the vehicle, he slumped into his seat. If Troy was here, he wouldn't want to see me like this. I'm so weak. Stupid. Worthless. Holding down the button for the intercom he said "Daniel,"

"Y-Yes, Mr. Evans?" The other male's voice was wary.

"Take us home."

"Aah yes, Zeke! Ohhh!"

"Mmm Shar baby!"

Ryan laid there in his bed hearing the bumps, rattling and cries to accompany his sister's intimacy with her lover. His bed was empty but for himself and his contentedly snoozing cat. Trying to block out the less than pleasant sounds, he rolled over. Shutting his eyes, expansive blackness met him. Out of the blackness, an image began to form. Tanned skin emitted a golden glow. Blue eyes softened as they looked upon him.

Troy. He gave a name to the figure, the boy in his mind.

He stretched out his pale hand, reaching for the one he loved. Troy was reaching for him. Their fingers touched and Ryan could feel his heart racing. Thump. Ba-thump. Thump. Ba-thump. Troy leaned in, their personas melded together. Their personas and so much more. Troy entered him slowly, taking time with his thrusts. There was no need to rush. They had forever in this perpetual expanse of white. Forever to nurture one another's needs. Ryan could feel the divine being's hands gripping his hips and they weren't letting go. Troy set a powerful easy rhythm, and the pounding blurred into heat, wonderful heat. It was so perfect. So good. So perfect.

"Troy! Troy!" Startled, Ryan awoke, jarred from his peaceful slumber by the sound of his own voice conveying his carnal pleasure. Heat met his hand and he realized that he had been dreaming. Once more, to his own bitter disappointment, the brunette basketball god that he loved so much was nowhere in sight.

The room down the hall had fallen silent. Stroking his member gently with his fingertip, he felt the appendage moistened by the pre-cum that had formed around the head of the muscle.

"Troy," he whispered. There were no ears to hear his voice and no mouth to respond. No one was there. He was alone. "Fuck," he growled softly, bitterness tinging his smooth voice. He gave his neglected cock a few more strokes before extracting his hand. Laying back, he stared at the glaring red numbers on the digital clock.

2:00 am.

With a sigh he told himself, "No one in the world can hear me. I may as well be dead." His loins were swollen with need that he forced himself to ignore. The muscle in his chest began to throb with longing as well but he could do nothing to quell either of them. Ryan had never felt more alone, more cut off from the rest of the world.

And although that overpowering inner voice told him, '"It's what you deserve," for once, he found himself questioning and hating what Fate dished out. "Do I really deserve this?"

A/N: Now you have been given insight to what caused the problem between the Evans siblings. And Ryan is beginning to take a mental stand for himself. Review if you guys want Chapter eleven up soon. It's my break, so I can make it happen! But you have to review!!