AN:I've had this plot bunny invading my head for about a week now. I knew that if I didn't sit and write it out, I would surely go insane.

This is SLASH! I know more people enjoy these than don't but this is fair warning. Don't care to hear about hunky men making love like rutting pigs, then you may leave. I realize that I just made the rest of you hate me all the more because I can't guarantee regular updates.

D/C:I do not own anything. Seriously, I don't even own this computer. Obviously, I do not have the rights to HSM or any other references that may be – or may not be – thrown into the plot. I do claim artistic license to the names of canonical unnamed characters. I do not do this for money, but I am a struggling college student. So, if you would like to wire me a couple hundred(-thousand) dollars, e-mail me and I'll give you my bank's routing number. But, no one needs to know about that wink, wink.

AN (2):The characters of Eddie Matthews and Chris Lucas are in fact canonical. Eddie is the spiky-haired skater dude that constantly dances with Gabriella in "We're all in this Together" and Chris is the skater with the gray corduroy hat.

Please enjoy. I hate it when authors beg for reviews, but it's the only way that I know someone's reading it. I don't care if you flame me, it just means that you read it and secretly want to come out of the closet.

HSM – SY HSM – SY

High School Musical III: Senior Year

By: Edward Lee Joseph Michael Jude Thaddeus Smith-Sheehy-McMurrich

Penname: Philemon (Halliwell) & Eddie Matthews

E-Mail: Year – Chapter 1: le Journalier

One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories
even though they weren't so great
"He tastes like you only sweeter"
One night, yeah, and one more time
Thanks for the memories, thanks for the memories
"He, he tastes like you only sweeter"

Been looking forward to the future
But my eyesight is going bad
And this crystal ball
It's always cloudy except for
When you look into the past (look into the past)
One night stand (one night stand off)

Troy Bolton rolled over, groaning all the while, to silence the alarm on his cell phone. It was now 2:30 AM and he needed to get up now if he were to finish on time. He resumed his position on his bed, lying on his back. He was actually awake, so he threw the sheets off and that's when he first noticed IT. IT was currently poking through the fly of his boxers and he sighed in defeat. He clamored out of bed, and his "lil' Buddy" led him to his bathroom like a divining rod.

He quickly turned on the sink, filled his glass and moistened his toothbrush. He was amazed how instantaneously he could be guilted into changing his personal habits.

FLASHBACK

It was opening night of "Twinkle Town(e)" and Troy had just arrived backstage to get ready. That's when he overheard the conversation.

"I know, and I agree. But you know how I'm attracted to peoples' mouths. His teeth, they're unnaturally white. You can tell that he bleaches them and if someone needs to bleach their teeth, they don't have good oral hygiene. If they don't care enough about their mouth, how can they care more for any other part of their body?"

Troy instantaneously knew that his secret crush of the last four-and-a-half years was not only correctly opinionated but also that the twin spoke of him to the other striking blonde.

END FLASHBACK

He ran a comb through his hair and then placed the paste-laden plastic instrument into his mouth and commenced with his once daily ritual. If you only knew, babe. He spat the offending chemicals into the sink and thoroughly rinsed his mouth of the rancid tasting concoction.

He then went to the hamper, still led by IT, and He grabbed the tee-shirt and gym shorts of which he wore last night and put them back on. He offended himself by the odors emanating from the impromptu game of one-on-one with Chad last night. Now clothed, he proceeded downstairs and went to the kitchen.

Suddenly, he chuckled. He remembered what his father had said in Health class yesterday, "Humans are not inclined to be creatures of habit." And yet, here's Troy, doing the exact same routine as he had everyday since his job ended at Lava Springs six weeks ago.

He went to warm some milk on the stove and added a ¼ cup of sugar to it and waited for the liquid bovine by-product to steam. He then quickly placed it into a coffee mug and added a teaspoon of instant coffee and stirred until it reached a nice mocha color. He took a sip, and per ritual, voiced "Café Olay!" aloud. He finished the mug and debated on having another, before realizing that he'd finished the milk. So he rinsed the mug and placed it on the counter with an index card reading "Tee-Roy" atop of it. His parents now knew that he intends to save this and use it again at breakfast.

Troy carefully crossed the living room carpet and carefully opened the front door. At 3 AM exactly his newspapers arrived. He took them from the delivery person and placed roughly one-third into the bed of his brand-new used pickup. A smile graced his lips when his dad gave him the 1963 Chevy that Jack Bolton himself drove throughout his senior year at East High. It had been a gift for getting the promotion at the country club last summer. Troy took the rest of the newspapers and placed then into his overgrown messenger bag. He grabbed the bag of rubber bands that he kept in the cab of his so affectionately named Wildcat and started down the road. He delivered to almost every house and while walking between the porches, he folded and banded the other papers with the lightning speed that could only come from a ¼ cup of sugar diluted into six ounces of milk. He went around the corner and delivered to the block behind his parents' home. As he made his way back home, he had finally folded all of the papers. So he grabbed the other satchel that was given to him by the Albuquerque Gazette and started with the unfolded papers.

He started down the side street from whence he came, yet in the other direction. He delivered the thirty nine papers that he had taken within record time, only 13 minutes. With his bag now empty, he jogged home and grabbed the final amount from the bed and dragged his bicycle through the tailgate. After mounting the fitness machine, he put the delivery garment back on his shoulders and proceeded back to work.

What most people don't realize is that much like the remainder of New Mexico, the rich neighborhoods often were surrounded by lesser-income housing before reaching a business district. Troy lived in this part of the neighborhood. Not that it's the projects or anything just upper-middle class compared to the insanely wealthy.

And you don't get wealthier west of the Mississippi than Rupert and Marybeth Evans. Troy found that taking his bicycle to deliver their paper, along with the lesser-wealthy customers saved him 45 minutes every morning. So, per usual, Troy was buzzed into the "Evans' Compound" as Chad and Zeke like to call it and Troy sped to the front door after picking up the papers left by the state news agency. He was amazed at the subscriptions held by the Evans Family.

There was Broadway Today and the Screen Actors' Guild News for Sharpay, New Age Yoga for Mrs. Evans, the Wall Street Journal and Financial Times of London for Mr. Evans, and then there was always the Denver Post, Rocky Mountain News, New York Times, Chicago Tribune, and the St Louis Post-Dispatch that most of Troy's customers received subscriptions to at least one of. He wasn't sure who it was that read them, but the Golden Boy figured it was merely a status symbol type of a thing. Troy struggled against the incline of the Evans' driveway which he finally found out was 1/3 mile from door to street and being a circle-drive, was quite a workout.

As he was leaving, Troy noticed Ryan by the smallest of the Evans' pools doing his morning Tai-Chi. Troy finally understood why Ryan could do the splits on cue and perform one-handed cartwheels on stage. For once, the Playmaker envied the Drama King .

"Troy! Hold up!!" The sudden outburst had caused Ryan to topple to the cement from the power of his own voice. He was thankful that the object of his affections didn't see him crash and burn for Troy also fell off of his bike due to Ryan's outburst. He had been going about 25 miles per hour due solely to the grade of the driveway when he was forcibly introduced to the concrete.

Ryan was so worried about his acquaintance that he jumped up, ran towards the crate that his mother and Sharpay use as an end table while sunbathing, stepped upon it, and hurdled the rod iron fence to give aid. Troy was fine, he knew so, and it was just a little road burn on the underside of his right forearm.

"¿Que pasa, el Presidente?" Troy attempted to joke though cognitive thought was nearly impossible at the moment.

"Are you okay, Troy? I certainly didn't mean to get you hurt!" Ryan looked as if his world had crashed around him off of the two rubber wheels.

"Ryan, I'm fine. I swear to it. Why didn't you just wave like every other morning?" Troy could barely hold back a chuckle.

"Actually it's my dad. He's quite upset with you." Troy gave Ryan a quizzical look, but the thespian continued. "He's upset that you haven't come to collect yet. He's wanted to tip you for a while, but your schedules just don't sync up."

Ryan preceded to hand Troy a handful of bills and made him promise that he'd accept the money. The brunette promised and the smaller form placed a handful of money into Troy's tee-shirt pocket. The artist's fingers accidentally pinched the jock's taut nipple so enticingly that both boys gave a shallow gasp. After the indentured high schooler gave his gratitude and climbed aboard the bicycle again, he bid Ryan farewell and continued home. He was never so happy to finish the route with the Evans'.

Troy returned his bicycle to the pickup and went inside. His parents were up and sharing the morning paper. When Mrs. Bolton realized that Troy had finished his job for the day, she commenced making the morning meal for the family. Since she worked part-time at the veterinary clinic and didn't need to be there until 10 o'clock, Jill Bolton made it her duty to make sure that her men left with a full breakfast inside every morning.

Troy went back into his bedroom and disrobed once again. He hopped into the shower and started to get ready for school.

HSM – SY HSM – SY

Troy pulled into his favorite parking spot, directly in front of the entrance to East High next to the wood shop.

He saw that two familiar cars were already in the parking lot, those belonging to Eddie Matthews and Chris Lucas. These guys are the epitome of the goody-two-shoes. While their grades weren't the best, they volunteered to sweep the shop every morning to remove all of the sawdust before homeroom. To make matters worse, Principal Matsui forced them to take pay for their work and they are technically the 'Specialty Division" of the Janitorial Staff. But these guys are too much. They tithe their paychecks to Our Lady of the Assumption and then give EVERY penny to the Salvation Army.

Troy loved this space for two reasons, it was next to the open door where he could smell the wood while waiting for homeroom, and also, it was right next to the reserved space for the Student Council president. So he parked by one of his best friends and enjoyed the natural scent that calmed him every morning.

Of course, today just HAD to be different, right? As he casually gazed into the shop window, he noticed Eddie pressed against the panes and he saw Chris take a swing at him. So, he ran inside to help.

Once he reached the door, both boys were on the floor in a tussle. They paused just before Troy was about to shout at them, and did the last thing that one could expect from these self proclaimed Jesus Freaks.

They started making out. Full-on tongue wrestling, earlobe nipping, give-me-a-hard-on making out. Troy just stood there and watched, mesmerized by these two hunks on the floor. That is, until he heard someone open the entrance door and enter.

Troy ran into the bathroom and hid for a few minutes, until he watched his own father walk by. He obviously knew about the boys, but refused to look. Troy had to retreat back to his pickup and try to calm himself. He'd certainly have blue balls today. Not only with what happened this morning with Ryan, but also Chris and Ed. Once in his vehicle, he turned the ignition to listen to the radio and fell asleep.

He awoke with a start when somebody tapped on the glass and commented, "You looked so peaceful, I almost didn't wake you." That was it. Troy decided right then and right there, he was going to tell his crush about his feelings. Consequences be damned. God, please help Gabby talk me out of this! Troy silently prayed and opened the door and go to class.

AN (3): So, whaddya think? I made up the word "Journalier" last spring in my French 112 class. They call newspapers "journaux" (journal is the singular) so I amalgamated 'journal' and 'cavalier' – which means "deliverer" to explain my occupation. Yes, I am a journalier and if it weren't for that wonderful yet underpaying job, I could not let my mind wander to HSM and such things as Efreel. I give you peace, love, and a side of pasta salad. – Eddie