Troy's head was throbbing. Not just the annoying little bump, bump, bump along with his heartbeat, but a full out pounding sensation that only subsided when he held his breath; and when he finally needed to inhale, the pounding would just increase. The bouncing of the car every time it so much as went over a crack in the road wasn't helping matters.

Just after school had let out, Troy had, as always, headed to his dad's office to wait for a ride home. It had started out fine, or as fine as could be expected when Troy was mentally setting his father on fire. He hated his father so much, that that combine with the confusion and stress of all that had happened in the past few days, drove him into a strange kind of silence and recessive mood that he couldn't explain.

Then his dad had started asking strange questions about Chad and Sharpay, and before he knew what was happening, Troy was on the floor holding his jaw where his father had just slugged him. And then he was up against the wall, where his father was practically spitting while he talked, he was so furious.

"You tell your fucked up friends they better back off, Troy, or it'll be hell for the both of us."

Then his father had told Troy he'd better hurry or he'd miss his bus. Troy hadn't taken the bus since he was in middle school, but what was he to do? His father had some sudden control over him, some weird influence. It didn't matter that, if needed, Troy probably could have fought back, probably could have won. All that mattered was that, his dad struck and ordered, and Troy bruised and obeyed. So Troy left his father's office to take one of the school buses home, with a pounding head that never quite went away.

Of course, it was only thirty-five minutes later that his mother had answered the phone, nodded thoughtfully, then hung up and told Troy to get in the car, because they needed to get to East High. Ten minutes later, and they were pulling into East High's parking lot, with Troy's head still pounding. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening—he would later realize he was hardly in the thinking, rationalizing condition—but as the exited his mother's SUV, it seemed to register in his brain that something wasn't normal about all that was happening. His mother put her hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze that made Troy nervous.

"Why are we here, mom?" Troy tried to keep his voice casual, apathetic. "Does dad need help with something?"

Troy's mom took a minute to answer as they walked across the parking lot, her face not portraying of any emotions. Then she nodded. "Yes, Troy, I think he might."

When they entered the building, Troy noticed the halls were unusually empty. On a normal day, there would be at least a few people moving about, do to clubs and sports, maybe running errands for teachers or something. But now, lights were on in the halls and in classrooms, but there was no one around. This made Troy even more nervous. What was going on?

When they got to the stairs, where four hallways came together, instead of taking the right to the gym, Troy's mother steered him left, and before he could question her, she had brought him into the main office. When they entered, the secretary looked up from a photocopier, smiled warmly, and walked over to her desk, where she pressed a button and said, "Mr. Vanderson? They're here. I'm sending them in."

When she took her finger off the button, a moment later a voice came on. "Excellent. Thank you, Margie." Another smile and a nodded later, and Troy's mother was leading him down a side hall in the main office, to where the offices of the staff who didn't teach were located.

"Mom," Troy whispered nervously as they got closer and closer to the last office of the hall, "why are we going to see the guidance counselor? I thought you said dad need help with something?"

His mother just nodded and patted his hand, trying to give a reassuring smile. "Yes, honey, he does. And I think you might, too. Just wait. Everything will be fine." And before Troy could protest or ask any other questions, they reached the door, which opened upon their arrival. Troy's father's voice flooded out to meet them.

"Look, Daniel, why am I here? I'm sure you've got plenty of work to do right now, I know I do. What exactly is this about? What's so important?" Bolton Senior's voice was higher than normal, like he was as nervous as Troy was. He kept looking around the room, from Mr. Vanderson to two men and a woman who sat in chairs up against the wall from him. "Who are they?"

As Troy and his mother stepped in, Mr. Vanderson's eyes fell on them, with the eyes of the strangers. When he realized they were all looking past him, Mr. Bolton turned in his chair to look. His eyebrows knitted. "What is this?"

Mr. Vanderson stepped forward with a warm smile and shook Troy and Mrs. Bolton's hands. "Please, please, have a seat!" He motioned to two empty chairs in front of his desk, near where Mr. Bolton was sitting. When everyone was sitting, Mr. Vanderson moved forward to occupy the space between Mr. Bolton and his family.

"Now, I'm sure you're very curious as to why I've asked you here." He spoke in the direction of the Bolton family, not to the strangers against the wall. "Just earlier, Ms. Daniels brought me some pictures brought forward by an anonymous persons, pictures we're very concerned about..." He paused, both of his lips sucked inward, and then continued. "The evidence is very strong, I'm sad to say. But we thought we would give you all a chance to put in your... your sides of the story."

"What. Story?" Mr. Bolton's voice was low and huffy. "What is going on here, Daniel?"

Mr. Vanderson gave Mr. Bolton a sad look, and then turned to Troy. Up until that point Troy had simply stopped thinking, and had been observing everything mindlessly. When Mr. Vanderson looked to him, and his mother grabbed his hand, Troy began to feel very nervous again.

"Troy," Vanderson began softly, "you father... he doesn't ever... Does he ever... hurt you?"

Troy's father shot out of his chair. "What?!" he bellowed.

"Mr. Bolton, please, sit down," Vanderson said calmly, holding his hands out. "Just settle down." Troy's dad said something about not settling down, but Vanderson spoke above him, attention back to Troy. "Does your father ever hurt you, Troy? Has he ever hit you before?"'

While his father began to shot louder and make strange motions with his arms, Troy's breathing quickened and became shallower. He watched as the strangers rose from their chairs and attempted to calm his father down. Vanderson kept his eyes on Troy, as if trying to read him of an answer.

Troy's mother squeezed his hand, trying to be supportive, and leaned over. "Answer the question, honey," she whispered encouragingly. "You could even just nod... Please honey."

The area behind Troy's eyes began to get warm, and his vision started clouding. His breathing kept becoming shallower, and soon he was almost hyperventilating. Summoning up his strength, he wanted to shake his head. But he nodded.

"TROY!" his father bellowed, trying to move towards his son, but the two male strangers were now grabbing him by the shoulders, pulling him back. Moving like that, their suit jackets were flapping, and Troy could see badges.

Vanderson nodded sadly, not letting his eyes leave Troy. "Could you please lift up your shirt, Troy?" he asked softly.

"Troy," his father tried to sound kind and soft, but his voice was only warning, "tell them this is crazy. Troy, please."

On his other side, Troy's mother was whispering, her voice choppy, "Lift your shirt, Troy." And so, with his free hand, Troy reached down to the bottom of his shirt, and with his mother's help, lifted it up to his chin. When she saw the purple spots on Troy's ribcage, Mrs. Bolton began to cry.

Vanderson nodded, and the woman against the wall moved forwards some. "Take him out, please," she said to the two men restraining the now hollering Mr. Bolton, and the men dragged him from the room. Then the woman came forward and said more to Mrs. Bolton than to Troy, "Hello, I'm Carla Davies. I'm from the Community Coalition Against Family Violence. I'm here to help, and I'll be here all through the trial, and for a time afterward, to make sure you and Troy are taken care of. Right now, I think Troy's going to need some rest. I'm going to suggest you stay with close family or friends for a while, people Troy will feel comfortable around. Until counseling later, we wont know how deeply this has affected Troy, so right now he needs nothing but support and love from people he loves. No stress or conflict, if you can avoid it. And a few days off school might do him good."

Mrs. Bolton just nodded, with a few soft, "Okay"s every few sentences. Carla's voice was so soft and kind, Troy didn't feel like saying much of anything; just the sound of her voice made him tired, and he felt like he could fall asleep in his chair. But he kept listening, again absorbing everything mindlessly.

"Now, I'm not sure if anyone pops into your head when I say close friends or family," Carla continued, "but I do know that one of the boys who brought us the pictures says he and Troy are very close, and that his family would be happy to have you as long as you need to stay."

Troy snapped out of his daze and turned to the Carla. "Ryan? Ryan Evans?"

Carla looked surprised at Troy's sudden outburst. She nodded. "Yes, I think that was his name. You two are friends, yes?"

Summoning up the remainder of his strength—he was just so tired all of the sudden—Troy stood from his chair, and his mother stood with him, holding him by the shoulders like she was afraid he would collapse. She told him to sit back down, but he ignored her, and Carla's question. "Is he here? Is Ryan here?"

"Troy, you need to calm down," Carla said soothingly, putting her hands up and showing him her palms for whatever reason. Why did therapists, or whatever the hell she was, always seem to try and do that? Was it supposed to confuse them long enough to let them calm down? "Take a deep breath." After a moment, she put a hand on his shoulder and gently led him out of the room and down the hall, saying to him, "Your friends should be right out in the waiting room with Mrs. Harold."

When they reached the waiting room of the main office, Mr. Bolton and the cops who took him away were nowhere in sight. But up against a wall near Margie Harold's desk were seated Ryan, Sharpay, and Chad, talking amongst themselves and looking anxious. Troy grinned. "Ryan!"

All three heads turned to him, and the blonde boy's face lit up. By the time he was standing, Troy was right in front of him, and he snaked his arms around the smaller boy's waist, burying his face in the crook of Ryan's neck. Ryan hugged him back, softly, trying to make sure he didn't hurt one of the bruises, but Troy didn't care; he was just glad it was over.

When he finally pulled back a little, Ryan reached up and brushed some of Troy's hair out of his eyes, looking at him with sad, concerned eyes. "Are you alright?"

Troy nodded and pulled him closer, resting their foreheads against one another's. Without caring that his mother didn't know he was gay, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ryan's, who leaned closer to keep them together. The kiss was soft and simple, but in its way perfect. When the kiss broke, Troy leaned his forehead back against Ryan's. "I'm fine, thanks to you." Then he backed away, took Ryan's hand, and led him over to where Carla and his mom stood. "Mom, this is Ryan," he said proudly, "my boyfriend."

Mrs. Bolton smiled politely and shook Ryan's hand. "Nice to meet you, Ryan."

"Likewise," Ryan smiled kindly. "So, uhm, Carla's partner told me you guys might need a place to stay for a while and... Well if you don't have any other place in mind, my family would love to have you."

A small, "Oh," was all Mrs. Bolton seemed to be able to muster, and she looked skeptical. But Troy puffed out his lower lip pleadingly. "Please? They don't live far. And... Carla says I need to be with people I love, right?"

Mrs. Bolton seemed to hum to herself in thought, and Troy squeezed Ryan's hand nervously; Ryan squeezed back. Finally, Mrs. Bolton sighed in defeat and smiled. "Oh, alright. But you two aren't sharing a bed, understand?"

With reluctance, Troy agreed. Sharpay and Chad joined the group as they walked out of the school, Mrs. Bolton speaking with Carla. When they had fallen back enough, Troy unwound his fingers from Ryan's and moved his hand down to Ryan's ass instead. He grinned and whispered playfully in Ryan's ear, "Don't worry. She's a sound sleeper."

They laughed.

A gentle knock sounded outside the door, and a moment later it drifted open a few feet and Mrs. Evans stuck her head in. She smiled at Ryan, who was sitting at his desk, looking up from the laptop was typing on. "Goodnight, honey."

Ryan smiled softly and blew her a kiss. "'Night, mom."

When she was gone, Ryan returned to typing the last few lines into his cyber-journal. He saved his work, and then shut the machine down before standing and stretching, causing a few joints in his back to crack. He looked over to his bed, where out of odd places from a bundle of comforters, body parts were sticking out in all directions. Near the top, close to the side of the bed, a sleeping Troy's head rested on the very edge of a pillow.

Ryan smiled. It was hard to believe that not even a month ago, he was tearing himself apart over the anniversary of the death of his grandfather, and how from then to now, he'd since fallen in love with his crush of two years, lost his virginity to said love, and between the two had his lover taken away from him by an abusive parent before turning in the evidence he needed to get him back. And now, here he was, crawling into bed with Troy Bolton, sure they were both feeling happy and safe.

He dug under the covers and fought his way to a place beside Troy. For a moment he wondered if he could sleep in such an uncomfortable position, but then Troy rolled over in his sleep, dropping an arm over Ryan's chest and resting his head on Ryan's shoulder. Just a slight adjustment of one of Ryan's legs and he was comfortable. With a smile, he buried his face in Troy's hair and signed contently as he closed his eyes.

So what if they were only just beginning? So what if it wasn't likely everyone at school would approve? It's not like they hadn't gone through hell already. Yeah, they'd have to deal with shit, but doesn't it always have to rain before you can see the rainbow? That's why there are all those creepy villains in Disney movies; to prove that happily-ever-afters don't come cheap.

END.

Right. So that's it. I really hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Again, I'm sorry it took me so long to finish! If you liked this story, I might suggest reading my story Courage... another couple faced with parental issues. Just a thought, haha. But, as always, REVIEW! Reviews make more good stories from me appear. Ciao till next time!