Between You & Me

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.

Chapter Epilogue


It was a ritual. A routine. Like the flow of the tides, it was rhythmic and soothing. Natural, expected, fluid. The day would start with the whistle blasts from the pier, signalling the lifeguards to duty and the boat operators to their marinas for passengers looking for a scenic tour. No alarm clock was needed to wake the seven inhabitants of the house built just off the board walk. They woke as the sun rose. Their bodies had become tuned to the sounds of the pier after months of living on the beach, and they move through the house with movements as quiet and fluid as the tides that lay just yards from their back door.

The tiny blonde from Houston, Texas will be the first one in the shower on the second floor. She will also be the last one out. By the time she joins the two dark-haired brothers from Wisconsin in the kitchen, they would both be shovelling eggs and toast in their mouths in preparation for a day of heavy construction duties ten miles away. The other blonde, with her hair cut short and fitting her head like a snug hat, would have skipped the shower and headed to the beach. She will be there until noon, surfing in the morning and attending classes across town until supper time. There will be chatter and quiet laughter shared. Teasing will float through the lower level and up the steps to the second story. The darkly tanned boy from Columbia, his accent already fading and new words and catch phrases already encroaching on his perfectly enunciated English, will be doing push ups on his bedroom floor with the door wide open.

Down the hall, nestled in the corner of the upper level of the house, the boy and girl from Albuquerque are entangled in the sheets of the queen sized bed. Her, with her long pitch black locks and flawless olive skin. He, with his hair streaked blond from the sun and his eyes a piercing blue that are like pools of trapped ocean water. His arm encircles her waist, the pink tank top baring her taunt stomach with its studded belly button. One of her hands is in her hair, the other is ensnared by his long, calloused fingers. On the floor lies their bartending t-shirts and aprons from the bar located on the pier at the end of the beach. It's only been hours since their shift ended.

They wake with the whistles and take turns in the shower downstairs. She gets dressed and comb through her wet hair while he chops fruit and puts bread in the toaster. She will gather their books and homework from the night before and join him downstairs. Kisses will be exchanged as the shower hums above them and down the hall, their roommates' footsteps treading softly throughout the house. They close the door behind them when they leave. They go to the beach each morning before school, this couple from New Mexico. It is a ritual after months on the west coast.

If someone had asked Gabriella at the age of eight who she wanted to fall in love with, she would have told them a mixture of things. He would be smart and funny and have hair like the boy bands on television. He would be able to play sports with her and climb a tree. He would think she was pretty. At the age of fourteen, Gabriella would tell them that she wanted her future love to be like Troy. Not to be Troy, but to possess all of the qualities found in her best friend. She would tell you the same thing when she turned seventeen, but inside she would be thinking differently. Now nineteen, no one needs to ask who she wants to fall in love with. She is in love with Troy Bolton.

High school was over, and with it came freedom. The Montez-Evans family had pulled through Christmas with a loud and overflowing house. Gifts were exchanged and dinner was consumed. Troy made it back from his grandparents' in time for New Years Eve. He and Gabriella rang in the New Year quietly from her balcony. Sharpay and Ryan went to Taylor's. The winter term passed quickly. Filled with musical and basketball championships, school council meetings and guidance councillor sit-downs, and final decisions on anything from prom decorations to colleges, Gabriella hardly had time to process the passing of one month to the next.

Prom was a second chance. There was no drama like Homecoming. Albuquerque had not elected a prom queen in four years after two senior cheerleader sought to kill each other over a tie. Gabriella wore red and Sharpay wore white. Troy escorted Gabriella and Zeke escorted Sharpay. They shared a limo with Ryan and Kelsi to East High. Smiles were tense but intentions were true and honest. Prom blended into graduation and there was a framed photograph of Sharpay, Gabriella, Troy, Chad and Ryan on the coffee table in the house on the beach. Troy had been valedictorian. Gabriella and Troy went to Cal State. Sharpay and Ryan went to Juilliard.

After homecoming, Gabriella's final year of high school had been so normal that she could sometimes trick herself into forgetting what was between her and her sister. There were still moments where Gabriella felt a gnawing pit of guilt in her stomach that made her want to vomit. When Sharpay had to wait for weeks until being told she had a spot at Juilliard. In July, when she began cleaning her room, she showed up at Gabriella's door with a box filled with things that were Troy's and had been lost or left behind in her room. November of their freshmen year away at university when a third year pianist stood Sharpay up on her first date since Troy. There were times when there was no reason. Just some times that Gabriella felt the distance between them that went beyond the miles separating them at school.

That first year had gotten better. They adjusted. They found their niches. New friends were made and new interests were discovered. Gabriella found law. Sharpay discovered a flair for directing. Ryan moved from dance to vocals to piano and back to dance. He went from Kelsi to Chelsea to Diana to Jessica and then back to Kelsi. The basketball world discovered Troy and then a knee injury had him discovering physiotherapy and medicine.

They moved into the beach house the summer after their second year. It was off campus, but close enough that it didn't matter. It had privacy and a great view. It had quiet and endearing roommates. It held the promise of a dream created long ago in a treehouse far away. Each morning Gabriella wakes up with Troy, and each night they fall asleep beside each other. She will brush his hair from his forehead and try to remember what it looked like before the sun attacked it. He will trace her scars with his fingertips.

And every morning they go to the beach. Every morning they stand in the shadow of the pier and they laugh and smile. They kiss. Sometimes, Gabriella hesitates. When there is a flash of her sister in her mind, it takes her breath for a moment. She and Troy make wishes and keep promises.

Like the oceans, there would always be space between them. A stretch of memories that would taint the romance and perfection of how they came to be; questions of how things could have been different. They would remain unanswered. Sometimes, she would ask him. Sometimes he would answer. It would be an unsatisfactory explanation. He didn't know the answers either. Never did. He just knew they had each other, and she just knew they had a promise to keep.

After leaving a trail of broken promises in their wake, that promise was all that mattered.


AN: Alors, c'est fini. Thanks for all your support over the last few years. I have 2 oneshot projects to finish for Mlle Diana and then I will finish From Blood. I would like to thank Kelly and Abigail for being amazing betas and idea-bouncer-offers. And to anyone who at anytime gave me an idea who fixed my grammar or sent me a message that kicked me in the butt, you all deserve a thanks too. ~Van