A/N: Bonjour! Comment allez-vous? Oh, French sounds so darling, doesn't it? Anyway, welcome to Chaptire Deux. There really isn't much for me to say... so, let's begin, shall we?

A/N #2 To all those who read this chapter with my notes left in (things that said work on this, make it longer, etc.) I'm so sorry! I forgot to take them out before posting! Please don't be angry!

Chapitre Deux

"Ryan…" someone from outside the door called. Ryan sat straight up. They'd actually come! Or so he thought… "Ryan, your parents sent me to bring you home." A short and balding man, late in his years, came toddling into the room. He wore a suit that probably took half of a years pay to buy, and had a chauffeur's hat under his right arm. His shoes seriously needed a shining, but otherwise, he looked very professional.

'Not my parents… the driver… Their son almost died… and they sent the driver. They could have lost their son forever, and they don't even care enough to come to the hospital…?'

"Ryan, I've brought you some clothes to change into. And I know that it is terrible to ask this of you at such as this, but I need you to hurry, if you can that is. You see, your parents were adamant that I pick them up on time in order to get them to the airport at exactly2:43, no matter what. They are leaving for Prague, you see."

"Is he serious? Are they really leaving for Prague, after all that's happened? That's it; they're just packing up and leaving for the Czech Republic, not even taking a second to make sure I'm okay?" Ryan was on the verge of tears. His belief that his parents didn't give a damn about him had just been sufficiently confirmed. "Thank you Sébastien. I'll try my best to go as fast as I can." Full of reluctance, Ryan stepped out of the bed, and took the clothes from his driver. A gray sweater from Givenchy to go over a white button down, a pair of Ralph Lauren khakis and Prada drivers (black crocodile skin) - a very nice outfit to be sure, but Ryan could see his parent's intentions clearly. Dress him to his best; make it so no one knows what has happened.

He ushered to Sébastien to leave the room. The driver nodded and walked out, but not before saying, "Ryan, I am sorry." Ryan couldn't help but smile. Even in his old age, even with his health rapidly deteriorating, dear old Sébastien had never become bitter. He was a genuinely lovely person, one of the few who actually cared about Ryan's well-being.

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If one were to describe the Evan's mansion in a single phrase, it would most definitely be fairy-tale like. It could only be reached by driving up a cobblestone driveway that stretched about a half mile. This driveway was lined with white rosebushes that we perfectly groomed, even when they were not in bloom. At the very end, one would come to a three-tiered fountain that stood in front of stone steps. The house, which was pure, stood at four floors, not including the attic and basement- both of which were furnished.

This sight, however, had lost all of its magic, in Ryan's eyes, sometime ago. He couldn't count how many times he had pulled up in the back of the black Aston Martin. As was customary, Sébastien got out first, and then opened Ryan's door. He had insisted for years that he was able to get out of the car on his own, but Sébastien always refused, saying that it would be improper and in bad taste. Sébastien walked ahead, as per usual, so he could open the oak front doors for him. Ryan sighed. "How much longer will he be able to do this?"

If someone where to say the outside was grand, then they would be at a complete loss for words after entering. The floors were black and white marble. They were polished each evening by the army of servants the Evans employed. Hanging from the ceiling was a crystal chandelier- 316 pieces of Swarovski crystal. But the real beauty was the grand staircase, at the top of which stood Ryan's parents, deep in conversation. They went silent when they saw Ryan come through the door.

"Oh," his father spoke, "your home."

"Hello father, mother."

"Your doing well then, I suppose?" his mother asked.

"I suppose." They spoke to each other like they had only met a few moments prior.

"I guess we'll be leaving then," his father said. "Sébastien, take the suitcases and load them into the car."

"Do it yourself! He's double your age, and you honestly expect him to carry your armada of luggage?" Ryan had always hated the way his parents treated the servants. They weren't slaves, but they might as well be. They were paid close to nothing, and their living conditions, although not at all bad, were not at all desirable. Ryan had made a point of never asking for their assistance unless he absolutely needed it- if he could do it himself, he had no reason to make them do it, and plus, if he didn't, hopefully they'd get a moments rest in between his parents constant orders.

His father made his way down the steps, his mother following closely behind. "Well are you just going to stand there?" his father asked. Ryan didn't answer; he was too deep in thought. His train of thought was disrupted, however, after being slapped across the face with the back of his father's hand. "Next time, you won't stand in front of the door like some brain-dead retard. Now move!" Ryan stepped aside, and his father walked out the door without another word. His mother, however, stood still for a moment. Her mouth opened for a moment, but then closed shortly after. For a moment, she made eye contact with her son, but then shifted her hazel eyes to the ground. She followed her husband out the door. Ryan kept his composure through the entire ordeal. He refused to allow himself to cry, not on his father's account. He refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt him.

The house was uncommonly empty. As Ryan made his way up two floors, he noticed that there was not one maid to be seen scurrying about with their usual chores. "It must be that time again." That time being one the rare days of the year that the house staff got a day off to do whatever they felt like. This privilege was also awarded to the grounds staff, on a different day though. This, along with the two week vacation every servant was given (all though it was unspoken agreement that this vacation was taken during a period when the heads of the house, that is, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, were away), was the only time that they got off during the year. At all other times, they were excepted to work for however long it took to finish the work that needed to be done.

Ryan's bedchambers weren't much, compared to his parents' or Sharpay's any way. There was a bedroom, used solely for sleeping, a bathroom, used solely for bathing, and a sitting room, used for studying and such. These rooms were dreadfully devoid of the luxuries found in the rest of the house. They weren't lavishly decorated- no velvet curtains or four-poster mahogany beds. The furniture was plain and inexpensive. Ryan would have it no other way.

However, when Ryan entered his bedroom, he was greeted with something he was not at all accustomed to…

"Ryan!" Sharpay screamed, running towards him. She ran towards him and hugged him like she hadn't seen each other in a hundred years. Ryan was stunned and stood there with his hands at his sides, unsure as to what to do. After realizing Sharpay wasn't letting go anytime soon, he, with a bit of hesitance, hugged her back.

"What happened?"

"I don't remember…"

"That's bullshit Ryan!" Sharpay rolled up her brothers sleeves. "Troy called and said he found you under a tree, covered in blood. He said you must have been mugged or something but I'm not stupid Ryan, muggers don't slit their victim's wrists!"

"Sharpay…"

"Tell me why!"

"Tell you why what?"

"Tell me why you tried to kill yourself! Troy may have been too stupid to notice and the doctors may have believed what Troy told them about you being attacked, but not me. I know exactly what happened. Why else do you think I would have found this under that tree?" She held up the razor blade. There were some stains of dry blood on it. It was definitely the one he had used the previous night. "I'm sorry Ryan…" Ryan didn't answer; for the moment, he wouldn't even look at her. "I went to find this after Troy called. I knew you probably wouldn't want people to know."

"Thanks…"

"Ryan, please, tell me why." He told her everything. He told her about their parents, something Sharpay had always known but never acknowledged; he told her about how his insecurities, he even told her about Troy.

"Oh…" was all Sharpay could say.

"Yeah."

"Ryan, you have to realize that no matter what you may think, there are people who care about you. There's the Kelsi, and Sébastien, and so many others, even Troy. And me… especially me. There's only been two minutes in our entire lives where we didn't have each other. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here…" Ryan could tell there was so much more Sharpay wanted to say, but he ended it by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her as close to him as he possibly could.

"I'm not going anywhere Sharpay, not anymore."

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Despite Sharpay's endless pleading for him to remain home to rest, Ryan had no intention of missing school the following Monday. After Troy had told him that he hoped to see him in school soon, there was no way in hell that he was going to stay home.

It took many hours of careful planning. He wanted to look perfect for Troy. He spent hours going through his closet, creating a mountain of rejected outfit choices on his floor. In the end, it was decided that he'd wear a pair of Lacroix skinny Frédéric s he bought in Paris a year ago, a black and white long-sleeved shirt from Yves Saint Laurent with sleeves that went to his knuckles, black alligator loafers he bought at Bergdorf's last time he was in New York, a white scarf from Hermés and a black velvet newsboy hat from Prada. This outfit did everything it was intended to do. It made him look fantastic, it was somewhat plain-colored so he wouldn't be noticed by certain people, and most importantly, it covered his wrist. No one besides Sharpay and Troy knew about that and he intended to keep it that way.

"Ryan, come on, we're going to be late!" Sharpay yelled from down the hall.

"Okay! I'll meet you in the car!" Driving to and from school was one of the only times where Sébastien did not drive. He said that it wasn't proper for two teenagers to arrive in that manner when going to a school where the majority of students couldn't even afford the car (the black Aston Martin), let alone someone to drive it. So, they drove to school in Sharpay's pink, convertible Porsche. Ryan wouldn't exactly call this "proper" either, but there was no point in arguing. Sébastien was Sébastien and there was no way you could possibly talk an eighty-five year old man who had worked for the Evans for close to thirty years out of anything when it came to what was "proper". He could hear Sharpay impatiently honking the horn for him to move faster. Ryan grabbed his messenger bag and left.

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The room would have been completely empty if it hadn't been for Ryan. He was sitting in his desk starring out the window. He always arrived early to homeroom. There was something comforting about the peaceful silence of the classroom before anyone else entered.

"Hey Ryan!" Ryan jumped. He was startled by the sudden break of silence, but was rather happy about who was the one who broke it. There was Troy, not followed by any of his basketball friends, talking to him!

"Hi Troy, what's up?"

"Nothing much, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Thanks. I'm doing great actually, no pain at all!" He was lying. Even after three days his wrists still stung, but somehow, being alone with Troy made the pain disappear for a moment.

"I'm glad." Troy smiled. "Hey Ryan, I was wondering. Maybe you'd like to go somewhere with me this weekend. You know, just to have a little fun." Ryan was both shocked and ecstatic. Troy had just asked him out! Sure, he probably meant it in a friend-way but still! It was a start!

"Sure!" Ryan sounded a little too excited. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. I'll call you later?"

"Sure!" Ryan was… Ryan was… happy, for lack of a better word. It didn't even matter if they ended up watching reruns of Law adn Order, he was just glad to be getting to spend some time alone with Troy (even if it was just as friends.) This feeling was not shared by Chad, who had been standing in the doorway and heard the whole conversation in its entirety.

E/N: Did you like this chapter? I hope you did because I worked super hard on it! Just really quick, I want to dedicate this chapter to someone. This chapter is dedicated to Frédéric Rousseau (whom the character of Sébastien is based off of.) He was our family's driver for... well since before I was born, and he passed away about a year ago. Frédéric , we miss you! So review please! Reviews make me write faster!