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A supa-long chapter just for all you kool kidz.
Troy's hands instinctively balled in defensive fists. There was a man there, Troy could feel it. His presence was overwhelming, almost...supernatural and Troy immediately swung at the darkness.
His fist made contact with nothing and his frantic nerves twitched in an anticipating confusion. There was a man there, Troy could see it, and his shadowed form stood unmoving a foot away from a wired Troy. He swung again and air caressed his knuckles.
He blinked.
Empty.
He gulped and blinked again.
Man.
There was a man there.
"H-hel- can I... what...are... police!" Troy's words were a jumbled mess spilling out of his mouth. The air was so still and the night was so frozen and the shadows that painted an intricate silhouette played with his mind. What was going on? Was there any logical explanation as to why there was a man standing inside of his house? Where was the damn phone?
"Troy," the midnight broad shoulders and supernatural bleakness said. Troy shrunk away and the figment of his imagination drew closer. It knew his name! Along with his advance, he brought a light that had no source. It came spiraling from beneath his feet and brilliantly illuminated him.
For a moment, Troy knew he was experiencing a sect of heaven, sliced from its home and delivered to his living room. Cool breeze crept up the torso of his shirt and he had to squint to see anything in the magnificent light. There was a man swimming in the middle of the utopia. The same man Troy had attempted to punch.
"W-who are you?" Troy's normal word vomit seemed to slush together into a coherent sentence. He found himself shouting his words because they were lost in the frantic roaring that would come with such a supernatural light.
And somewhere, maybe in the back of his mind, or written across the sun before him, a name came as a ghost. A dead whisper. A silent prayer: Micah.
"Three days."
"What?"
"Three days, Troy. That's all I'm giving you."
Troy brought a hand to shield his eyes. He felt as though he wasn't living. Like he was being served an experience as a heavenly being and that he would wake up soon. But it was so real. It felt so real. Troy attempted to make sense of the words Micah spoke, but his conscience swam with nothing. Nothing but radiance and the roaring glow and blonde hair and lavender and mischief...
"What the hell are you talking about? And who the hell are you?" Micah. He knew that. He was Micah and he knew it without words or comprehension. Micah was speaking about Sharpay. He had to be. She was all that mattered to Troy.
"Use them wisely," Micah said. "Find the gift that will keep her alive. Don't change her fate. Don't tell her. Just love her."
Redemption.
Redemption- a second chance.
Troy Bolton felt redemption rise through his chest and a smile rise to his face. Something good was going to happen. But squinting made his eyes grew weary and his house ablaze made his muscles weak. He was suddenly falling without control, stumbling back into a harsh reality with a suspenseful new beginning.
"Wait... hold on!" Troy shouted in one last attempt to understand. But with the mighty flutter of wings and in a brilliant flash of light, his only source was gone.
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His body erupted in shivers, the earth shaking, the world revolving beneath his still, still, cold self. Reality gathered into a gushing wave, crashing over what was left of him, dragging him along the sandy remains of a dream. Sharpayandthoseangelwingsandthelight...
The light...
The light.
"The light," he growled, unconsciously throwing his flimsy hand over his eyes. The garish brightness burned his eyelids and he wanted nothing more than to tuck his head under the cashmere and forget, forget, forget.
"Sorry," a whisper told his ear. A whisper, a giggle, a satisfying swish. Darkness. His lids were comforted once again, hidden by cashmere. He forgot, forgot, forgot. "Good morning, sleepyhead." a whisper informed his ear. The darkness pressed against his cheek before beginning a tickling line along his jaw. He mumbled something incoherent.
The cloud cast over his conscience had a familiar shape-curves that his hands already knew, a voice that his mind had already memorized. He tightened his eyes, trying to remember, remember, remember. His mouth opened in a wide yawn. "Good morning, Sharpay," he said, before tossing his brick body to the side.
The words were gone before he realized he had said them. Sharpay. A name he hadn't heard in what seemed like ages. The light. It was so real... He scrambled into awareness, jolting upward, awaking every single one of his nerves. His head reeled to his right-the expanse of his bedroom. His head reeled to his left-
"Sharpay," he said, his voice a haunting whisper, an untold secret.
She gave a weak smile, unfolding their blankets from her body and scratching her messy blonde head. The morning sun illuminated her golden hair and pasty t-shirt. Troy saw heaven for a moment again. Eyes bleary and face twisted in a sleepy grimace, she had to have come from a dream, Troy decided. "Sorry I turned the lights on," she said. "but it's time to wake up."
Troy's nose wrinkled in confusion but utter happiness. "How are you... didn't you...? And Micah said..."
Sharpay gave a perplexed chuckle. "Micah?" she sat up and ran an outstretched hand through Troy's disheveled hair. "Someone had an interesting dream last night." She littered the base of his neck with morning kisses. That kiss. It was the darkness' kiss.
"A dream," he uttered. Yes.
No.
Yes?
But it had all been so vivid- too vivid. The wide faced moon was still suspended in his eyes. The way her dying hand felt in his still burned his palm. And Micah... the name had lined his conscience for an eternity. His rules: Three days. Find her gift of life in three days...
But did it really matter then? He concluded no. Just as Sharpay crawled over his lap to reach her destination of the bathroom, he snatched at her waist, pulling her back into bed. "Troy, darling, there is breakfast to be made and jobs to be done," she giggled.
"I don't care," he muttered, burying Sharpay under himself, bruising her with a desperate kiss. Her mouth moved against his and her hands found his lower back and he suddenly just didn't care. She had been dead in his mind for forever but now she was back and she was kissing him and everything else just seemed so insignificant.
She twisted her mouth away from his, her chest rising and falling in a deep breath underneath him. "As enjoyable as this is, I'm really hungry, and you need to brush your teeth-"
"Just shut up and let me kiss you," he snapped playfully. Just as Troy pressed another forgotten kiss to her mouth, she began to wriggle underneath him, pressing both of her hands against his face and mouth in a flirtatious, childish way. "You know you want it!" he urged her, taking her by the wrists and pinning her hands above her head.
"Stop violating me!" she squealed, a mass of blonde bunching around her flawless face. He had rediscovered her laugh, her smile. How could all of it had been a dream? The argument, the crash, her death, her funeral. Each event painted a colorful picture of itself in his mind. Micah and the chocolate wrinkles that surrounded his unearthly smile. The judgment in his raven eyes. Had it been reality?
"Troy?" Sharpay lightly rapped her knuckles against his temple to get his attention. He blinked, coming back to terms with himself. "You're severely crushing my ovaries." he placed one more wanted kiss on her bottom lip before rolling his weight off of her and falling onto the bed on his back. He just didn't know. He just didn't know. "Aren't you coming?" he heard his wife giggle and whipped his head towards the bathroom door.
"Uh..." her delicate hand held the door knob, waiting for his answer. One of his old t-shirts that she wore flounced around her thighs and he gulped. Troy scrambled out of bed, deciding to let his unrelenting thoughts roll off his shoulders. He followed Sharpay into the bathroom.
But as he turned to close the door, an uncertainty rose into his throat and choked him.
There, standing where he had once been stood... him.
With his supernatural features. Heavenly smile and the eyes of judgment. Micah.
A name ghosted itself in his mind and the rest of his surroundings hazed away. Two words left Micah's mouth that confirmed that it had all been a reality.
Two words let him know that Sharpay really had died.
Two words informed him that their time was limited. That her time on earth was in his hands.
"Troy, are you coming?" Sharpay's teasing giggle was almost drowned out by the sound of the patter of shower water on tiles. Troy blinked deeply and looked back into his room.
Empty.
A trembling hand shut the door, the heat of the running water clouding his lungs. Two words determined his everything.
Three days.
Not gonna lie.
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