Their relationship wasn't exactly like the little half promise Troy had made in detention; Troy didn't come out to the whole school, didn't face the pending ridicule, and didn't take dating the school gay to the public. At least, he hadn't yet; though he promised he'd work to it. And Ryan wasn't upset, because he had never expected Troy to carry through with what he'd said in the lunchroom, at least not so fast. It wasn't that he was unsure of Troy's feelings, because the Basketball Demigod continued to prove the whole thing was not a prank day after day when the two were alone; it was because he knew what coming out was like, that it didn't happen over night, no matter who you had on your side, no matter how sure you were, how confident.

So far, no one knew. Troy confided he didn't yet want to spill to Gabriella that he'd gotten a boyfriend so soon after they broke up and he'd come out to her, especially when his boyfriend was the first boy he'd actually ever been attracted to, the one that first caused him to realize he was gay. As for Ryan, he really did love his sister, but honestly, asking Sharpay to keep such a huge secret for less than twenty-four hours was just ludicrous. That, and she was still partly "in love" with Troy, even while she had Zeke.

It wasn't the perfect romance, not by a long shot. Troy never surprised Ryan between classes, never snaked his arms around Ryan's waist when he was at his locker, never kissed him just because while they were laughing and hanging out in homeroom. And at least out of school, it was a little different. No, there weren't many public displays of affection that Ryan had always thought would be fun—maybe it was because he thought it would just be nice to know that the rest of the world saw the same things he saw, that it was all real—but even without the PDA, Ryan knew he had it better that most, even by straight standards.

At first, Ryan talked more, which made him feel very awkward sometimes. He talked about his grandfather, and when he was young, and fights with his sister and parents, trips he'd taken, experiences that meant things to him for a number of reasons, and things he wanted to accomplish in life, what he wanted to do for a living, places he wanted to go, people he wanted to meet, et cetera. Troy would listen, nod, comment honestly and appropriately, and never once did he portray anything but deepest sincere interest in everything Ryan had to say. And for a while, Ryan was content, happy that someone finally wanted to listen to what he had to say, someone who he could talk to about anything. There was that, with the added bonus that Troy was giftedly skillful with his tongue.

But after a while, Ryan started to realize just how much he talked, how much Troy listened, and how little he seemed to actually know about his boyfriend. Sure, he knew Troy was definitely sensitive, caring and all that, but what went on in his head, what did he think about? Who was he, really? He came to the weird conclusion that he seemed to be dominating Troy, in a way, which was strange, because when the whole relationship had started, Ryan had figured it would be Troy taking the lead, where they would go, what they would do, when they would do it. That's just the kind of guy Ryan had seen Troy as, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much Troy seemed dependant on Ryan as to what went on with them.

And then it made sense. Troy was coming out. He was entering this whole new world of confusion, of uncertainty, of questions and curiosities, and he didn't know what to do; it was a totally new experience. Then, here's Ryan, openly gay for years, he must know all this stuff, right? So how did anything else make sense beyond that Troy felt clueless and in his eyes, Ryan was a Guru?

As soon as this became clear to Ryan, so did the course of action he had to take. The next night Sharpay was out with Zeke, Ryan had Troy over, and for the first time, Ryan was asking questions, and in return was receiving answers, stories, and opinions. At first Troy seemed uncertain of what to say, self-conscious maybe, but the more he talked, the more he got into it, the more he shared and the less he held back. In a way, it reminded Ryan of Troy at basketball practice. Of the few he sneaked in to watch, Ryan had learned that even if Troy learned something from practice, he always started out practice the same way; slow, hesitant, but building in speed, accuracy, and daring. Sort of like a turtle coming out of its shell.

By the end of the night, they were sitting side by side cross-legged on Ryan's bed, each of them was drowsy, and Troy's eyes were starting to get bags. He'd yawned, sighed, and then laughed. "I don't think I've ever talked about myself so much. It almost feels like I wasted your night."
Ryan smiled and took Troy's hand, interlacing their fingers, but spreading their palms apart so he could trace circles on Troy's palm with his thumb. "I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

As always, Troy blushed and grinned, and then he placed his hand on Ryan's leg. Whenever Ryan said something sweet, Troy got slightly goofy, and this reaction was common for them, a small individual symbol of affection. Tonight, however, the symbol didn't end at a tiny pat. Instead, Troy began a sequence of gentle massage-like squeezes, traveling up and down Ryan's thigh, never going past the kneecap, never traveling too far towards the waist. Ryan moaned out through his nose, exhaled slowly, and then laughed nervously. "That feels…really…nice."

Encouraged, Troy smiled shyly and crawled so he was positioned in front of Ryan, and began to massage both of Ryan's legs. Ryan blushed, forced to lean back on his hands to keep his balance. "Ha ha…this is, uh…slightly awkward." He wasn't sure what made him say it; maybe it was because so soon after talking with Troy about himself, he was finally taking control.

"How so?" Troy smiled innocently. "It's only a massage." He leaned forward and eased Ryan back by his shoulders, till he was lying flat on the bed, then gently flipped him over onto his stomach. Next he sat on Ryan's very lower back, putting his legs on either side of Ryan's side. Then, he eased Ryan's shirt up towards his neck before beginning to knead at the muscles of Ryan's back, around his shoulders, neck, ribs, and lower back.

Though his arms were crossed and his head was buried in his biceps, Ryan could not muffle the moan that escaped his lips. He could feel every muscle in his body loosening up, except for the one that mattered most when you're a boy. Instead, he found himself shifting to accommodate said one muscle's needs.

On top of him, Ryan thought he could feel Troy shifting as well, but for some reason found it doubtful that it was for the same reason as he. Even so, against the odds set in his mind, Ryan hoped that was the reason Troy kept moving on occasion, because even when he knew how dangerous it would be—how he shouldn't think it, much less do it—Ryan had a desperate urge growing within him to fool around with Troy.

But then, what about his parents? True, they were out to dinner, but they could arrive home at any time. And sure, Mrs. Evans was actually elated her son turned out to be gay, and surprisingly enough, Mr. Evans had given his son his full support, under the condition that Ryan actually consider his actions and make sure homosexuality was his final decision—of course, Ryan knew while his father didn't mind a gay son, but he still had wanted grandchildren as well. Besides, you never want your parents to walk in on you doing the do.

Then there was Sharpay. If Zeke had already snuck out the same way she snuck him in, and she was still awake, she could walk in at any minute, and to find the two together was one thing—ever since Twinkle Town, it wasn't uncommon for the actors to be seen together, even at one another's houses, even when they didn't used to be very good friends—but then, to find them together was something else altogether.

Yet, here they were, Ryan now on his back, shirt hanging over the lampshade, Troy straddling Ryan's hips, rubbing around Ryan's neck, shoulders, chest, nipples, ribs, and the very faint outline of abs. While Ryan was still hard, Troy's pants had a bulge, and yet his concentration did not appear to falter has he trailed his fingers gently up and down Ryan's upper body, then kneaded the muscles, and then went back to trailing. Every few minutes, he'd dip his hand under the waist of Ryan's jeans—which were so loose the band was lifted about an inch from Ryan's waist—and trail his fingers just above Ryan's boxers, causing him to arch and press his groin to Troy.

Troy leaned forward, and his erection pressed against Ryan's through their jeans. He continued massaging while he came closer, then whispered in Ryan's ear, "Is…this okay with you?"

Not for the first time that night, Ryan's heart skipped a beat. His whole body shuddered with the combination of Troy's words and the light trailing massage. He managed to whisper out, "Are you sure?"

With a repressed grin, Troy leaned forward the rest of the distance between then and pressed his lips to Ryan's. After only a few seconds, they were joined at their mouths, gasping for air every time they drew back far enough for their lips to cease touching. Before either of them fully realized what was happening, Troy's pants were a pile on the floor, Ryan's jeans were unbuttoned and not zippered, and Ryan was arching his hips in reverse rhythm to how Troy was jerking him off.

Neither of them heard the knock.

What they did hear were two voices, the first high and feminine, the next a deep male voice. "Sorry, Ry, he insisted on—" and "Troy? Buddy, it's time to head ho—"

What they saw was Troy's dad, standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob, mouth half open in the same position it had been when he stopped speaking. Sharpay was behind him, hands over her mouth, eyes wide. She'd probably gasped, but neither of the boys could hear anything above the beats of their own racing hearts.

Everyone froze. Sharpay, after-gasp. Mr. Bolton shocked mid-speechless. Ryan, hands behind his head, keeping himself steady as he was propped against the headboard, mid-pant, sweating, and receiving his first blowjob from his first boyfriend. And then Troy, his eyes wide and focused on his father, one hand gripping his own cock through his underwear, the other one firmly gasping the very bottom of Ryan's shaft, and his mouth engulfing Ryan's cock.

No one really knew much about what happened next, other than that it was loud, fast, and painful. There was shouting, gasps, sobbing, screams, and lots of thuds. The lampshade shattered, the nightstand was overturned, and the wood of the door cracked, and then was hanging by the top hinge. After that, Ryan was a heap on the floor, the Boltons were gone, and Sharpay was sliding down the wall, eyes drooping, fighting for consciousness. She lost.

"Sharpay? Sharpay!"

Zeke fell to his knees, gathering up his girlfriend in his arms. A place on her cheek was darker than the rest of her skin, and she was mumbling in her unconscious state. The room was trashed, and a few yards away, Ryan was stirring. Zeke pushed back Sharpay's hair and started hyperventilating, not sure what to do, and scared beyond all rational thinking. "Oh God. Oh God. Sharpay…Sharpay…Sharpay."

Sharpay moaned. Her eyes started moving behind their lids, and the mumbling turned into moaning. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open, and she took in her surroundings with knitted brows. Then, as she remembered the events of only minutes earlier, she gasped and shot up, only to be held back in Zeke's arms. "Hey, hey, hey. Slowly. You'll get dizzy," he soothed.

She slowed, but her eyes never stopped. They darted around the room, from her brother, to the shards of lampshade, to the door, and around the room again. Her eyes clouded up, and she started huffing out her mouth the way people do when they try not to cry. Then her eyes darted to and settled on Ryan, like she was for the first time realizing he was there. She shoved herself away from Zeke and crawled over to her brother. "Ryan. Ryan? Oh God, Ryan!"

His forehead had a small cut on the side, which was dripping blood down the side of his face, and his neck had a small bruise forming, like the one on Sharpay's cheek. He too was beginning to moan, but his stirring was still slow, like it was more painful than that of Sharpay's injuries. It seemed to make sense, as it was Ryan who'd been receiving the blowjob from the seemingly perfect East High Playmaker.

Without opening his eyes, Ryan spoke. "What happened?" He reached up and massaged at his forehead, only to gasp in pain when he accidentally hit his cut. When he finally opened his eyes and looked up, his eyes grew very sad and he gently brushed Sharpay's bruise. "Oh Sharpay. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." And he began to cry.

The surprising thing was, Sharpay cried too. She was usually the strong one, the tough one; the slightly scary, fearless one. But now, she took Ryan in her arms, held him close, and they sobbed together, while Zeke grabbed a blanket, draped it around them, and then guided them up off the floor and sat them on the bed. He put his arms around both of them, letting Sharpay rest her head on his shoulder, while Ryan rested his head on hers.

After what seemed like an hour, Sharpay could cry no more. Ryan, however, was still sobbing, even though it was growing weaker. She patted his head soothingly, rubbing his back, and whispered, "Tell me everything."