AN: I usually don't do this, but this chapter goes to all the November birthday fans, including Jez who gave me an idea for the next chapter while we were both extremely intoxicated and celebrating my birthday. And to Kelly, who has a future beyond fanfic, because until they begin paying us, we all need to be responsible. And to all the people who helped me write parts of this chapter that had me really worried. Another enthusiastic thanks to all the reviewers who have stuck with this despite the edge of the cliff being miles behind me.
Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.
~*~
Lay Him Down To Sleep
PART SIX
"It's alright, you can sleep sound tonight."
-Superman, Five For Fighting
The sun filtering through her window warmed her face as Gabriella's eyes fluttered open the morning after Christmas. Her mind fought to catch the fleeting fragments of her dreams, but as she rolled to her side and pushed aside the blankets she could recall little beyond memories of light and air and laughter. She paused with her feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, a light smile on her face as she closed her eyes and clung to the few moments of peace.
No noise could be heard from other parts of the house and a quick glance at the clock told her it was still relatively early considering it was a holiday and the household had the chance to sleep in. Gabriella felt restless, however, her fingers drumming along the comforter bunched on the bed. Deciding there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, she got up and dressed. Pulling a U of A hoodie over her head that had been the other half of her gift from Troy, Gabriella searched for socks before quietly easing out of her bedroom and tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen. She wasn't the only one up early.
Troy sat at the kitchen table, his vision trained on the ceramic mug before him that wafted steam into the air. The coffee pot dripped in a steady rhythm on the counter behind him; the only sound in the room. He looked the same as he had the night before, with every line and every groove matching the patterns Gabriella had traced while he slept. Her fingers itched to comb back the stray strands of hair that fell into his eyes. He barely moved when he spoke to her, never meeting her gaze but focusing on his drink as if it held hidden secrets.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly, his shoulders hunched and both hands gripping the mug. Gabriella looked at him, confused, wondering if she should ask what he meant. Instead she remained silent, not moving from the doorway. "I knew there was something wrong, but I thought-," he looked up then and she saw the tight, white lines around his mouth. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I was mad at him," Gabriella said simply, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to keep her heart together as she realized what Troy was talking about. "He broke up with me for reasons I couldn't or didn't want to see at the time. He's your brother and I was mad at him, so I chose not to say anything about it. Obviously, he told you."
"Only that you two had decided to end things," Troy answered softly, his voice hesitant and full of questions. "He didn't say anything else. I asked him if it was about you and me and what I had said, but he said it didn't matter. He said there was something bigger about it all." Gabriella saw him look at her from the corner of her eye, but the remainder of her vision focused on the floor and a tiny red sprinkle that had fallen from a cookie. It looked so abandoned on the floor, forgotten and unseen. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper to keep from cracking. There was so much about her and Andy that she could discuss with Troy, but everything was so raw and open still. "He did it Christmas Eve; I didn't really have a say in it. I think he'd had made up his mind a few days before that anyway."
She had reached the table and drew invisible hearts on the wood grain with one fingertip while the other remained tucked under her armpit. Troy stayed quiet, his coffee untouched as he watched her face. Gabriella braced herself for the questions she expected him to ask. The questions she had asked herself when she contemplated how to answer him. They didn't come and the silence stretched throughout the room; even the coffee pot had stopped dripping. Sucking in a breath, Gabriella pushed forward without prompting.
"He was right, you know," she said, watching as the implications registered with Troy. "About everything. He said he couldn't stand by and keep you from the one thing you wanted when it was what I wanted too. He was right when he said I loved you. I realized it last night, and I stopped being mad at him and decided to be mad at myself for a bit."
Her fingers were white where they gripped the fabric of her sweatshirt, the blood in her veins pounding with the rush of the moment. The words were spilling out, every realization, every emotion, and every desire. Her nerves fizzled with pent up stress as she told him about the movie in her head. His eyes bore into hers as she choked out the memories that had invaded her mind the night before. Her voice was insistent, asking if he remembered the smell of mountain powder and cafe cinnamon. She reminded him of crackling firewood and jingle bells, frosted window panes and clouds of warm breath. Gabriella saw the hope and burning need in Troy's eyes as she fed him every encounter they had ever had, every joke they had ever shared and in the end, the words trailed off because she had nothing else to convince him that Andy had been right; had known before she did. But she knew it know.
"And who are you mad at now?" Troy asked softly, his blue eyes sparkling with hidden mirth as he watched Gabriella gasp for breath and compose herself.
She found what she wanted in his eyes- trust, understanding, love- but he held back from making his own confessions. Perhaps he thought he had said enough already. Perhaps he felt she was still at odds with herself. Gabriella wasn't sure, so she decided not to push for answers or commitment. She'd let him make the moves, take the first step. He knew she was there; it couldn't have been made any clearer. Taking her freezing cold hands, she gripped the back of the kitchen chair facing his seat that he had yet to move from. In the clearest, most assured voice she could muster given the angst still laced in it, Gabriella looked him right in the eye and spoke the truth.
"Right now, I'm currently mad at God." She paused for a moment, thinking the quirk of Troy's mouth meant he thought she was kidding. "Don't laugh, I'm serious. I'm pretty fucking pissed."
"I'm not laughing at you," Troy replied, his voice even and the humour she had imagined gone completely. "Actually, we're pretty much on the same page as far as God goes."
Gabriella nodded and remained standing behind the chair, watching as Troy took a sip of coffee and grimaced before setting it back down. She noticed for the first time that three prescription bottles from the pharmacy, instead of the usual one, sat next to the bowl of plastic fruit in the center of the table. Without thinking, she picked up the one closest to her and read the label. Its six syllable name that she would probably mispronounce if she tried made her stomach icy and slightly nauseous. There was something sinister about drugs with fancy scientific names, and bright warning labels. Turning it on its side, and feeling Troy watch as she did so, she read the tiny stickers that warned him to take it on an empty stomach, not to expose himself to too much sunlight, and to be aware not to operate heavy machinery. Gabriella wanted to scoff at the ridiculousness of the pharmacist's efforts but stopped herself. Instead, more out of curiosity than anything else, she picked up the other two.
"What are you doing?" Troy asked softly, his chin propped up on his fist and his eyebrows slightly scrunched. Gabriella looked at him, uncomfortable, before seeing the amusement in his eyes and hearing the light tone in his voice.
"I've never seen you take these two," she told him with a shrug, gently shaking the prescriptions that weren't for his headaches. "I thought I might know what they were. I did this assignment last term on the chemistry in chemotherapy drugs, but I don't recognize these."
Troy gestured her forward until her legs brushed against his knees and his shoulder was level with her chest. Dropping them in his hand, Gabriella watched as he read over the labels before answering her. It took him a couple of moments, longer than she would have thought, and then he unscrewed the lids and shook out a couple into her upheld palm. They looked as harmless as Aspirin or Tylenol, but then Gabriella remembered the string of letters that formed their names and she knew they were anything but something you'd find in your bathroom vanity.
"This one is to counteract the side effects of the headache drugs. It's supposed to help with my appetite and the nausea." He put the pill back into the bottle and pointed to the remaining drug in her hand. "That one is a steroid. They say it will minimize the headaches so they're less frequent," Troy snapped the lids back on, the click of the safety lock echoing like a prison door.
"Is it working?" Gabriella asked quietly, her eyes on the bottles and not on his face although she knew he was looking at her.
"I haven't really been taking it," he admitted. "They make me dizzy and clumsy and there's a really high chance of swelling and weight gain. I'd rather just deal with the headaches."
"But if they help-," Gabriella began, catching her lip between her teeth as he placed the prescriptions on the counter and took her empty hands in his.
"I don't have a lot of time, Ella," Troy reminded her gently, rubbing circles on the back of her hands. "But I want to live the way I want with the time I do have. I want to talk to my friends and family. I want to cement every moment in my mind, even if it won't matter to me but because it will matter to them. I want to fight as long as I can, and I can't do that when everything I do is clouded by drugs. I will take them when I have headaches and I will take the ones that help me eat and keep going, but I don't see the point in suffering through crappy side effects if it means the next few months are hazy and foggy. I want to live, El, and some of the drugs don't let me do that, they just let me survive. There's a difference."
Gabriella nodded, seeing his point and understanding his desire to hold out as long as possible before giving into the downhill slide that would eventually happen. She agreed with him, knowing she'd rather have a handful of months with the guy she knew, than a prolonged period of time where he was alive but lost to her in other ways. Instinctly, she tightened her grip on Troy's fingers, only noticing when he squeezed back.
"I just wish there was something to be done," she whispered, feeling tears prick her eyes and praying they wouldn't fall. "I wish there had been a chance to fight. It would have been hard but-God!- it would have been something." She tried to yank her hands away to pace, but he only let one go and clutched the other one tighter.
"El, are you sure you're ready to be in this?" he asked, looking up at her and Gabriella wished she had left her hair down so she could hide the welling tears behind her curly hair. She nodded, closing her eyes and willing herself to keep it together. "All the way in? Until the end?"
"Yes," she answered shakily. Steadying herself, she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly while Troy watched, concerned. "Yes. I am."
Troy gave her a watery smile when she looked up from the plaid of his pyjama bottoms and into his eyes. His features blurred for a moment before she swiped at the tears, only to see similar ones in his eyes. He let go of her hand and cupped her face with both of his as she bent her head to meet his forehead. Upstairs, they could hear footsteps, but for a handful of moments they stayed in their own bubble of protection where it was just the two of them. It was Gabriella who pulled back first, wiping the tear tracks off her cheeks.
"Alright, but there are rules," Troy told her, a mock serious look on his face that caused a choked giggle to escape. "First rule is no unnecessary tears."
"Okay," Gabriella said, returning his serious look. Her tears had dried and she resolved herself to let it happen as little as possible when he was around. "What's the second rule?"
"Second rule is you have to spend New Years Eve with me," Troy answered cheekily, his eyes crinkling when she blushed. "There won't be any karaoke like last year, but I think we can find some cocoa and some blankets; maybe sit on the porch and pretend there is snow falling."
"Alright," she told him as the noise beginning overhead indicated someone was up and in the shower, "I'll even bring my hat and mittens."
"That's my girl," he whispered.
~*~
The days leading up to New Years Eve crept by, leaving Christmas officially behind. The Bolton household spent their days entertaining visitors, anyone from neighbours and friends to a handful of distant family driving into the city for the day. Gabriella was reintroduced to Chad Danforth, this time by a more conscious Troy, and Gabriella's heart warmed by the look of appreciation in Chad's eyes when he learned that Gabriella and Andy were no longer together. He brought with him a handful of loud, messy, generally unruly guys who declared themselves Troy's Posse and spent an entire day sprawled around the living room eating junk food and challenging each other to another try at one video game or another. Gabriella stayed out of their way after the initial name exchanges, choosing instead to help Lucille in the kitchen while occasionally taking glances at the other room. When Troy fell asleep midway through the afternoon, the gang merely turned the volume down on the TV and removed the bowl of pretzels from beside him before continuing into the evening.
There were afternoons and evenings where Andy's slightly quieter group of friends stopped by to watch a movie or catch-up while shooting hoops out in the backyard. Andy was always polite, introducing her as the friend he'd brought home for Christmas. Although some gave her curious glances, they never snubbed her or were rude. For the most part, that's what Gabriella was to both Bolton boys. She was a friend. Andy and she still chatted when they were together and together they avoided discussing the hated topic of returning to school at the end of break. It was just like they were at the beginning of the school year before the night that marked their first date. As for Troy, he and Gabriella joked and occasionally skirted the notion of flirting, but remained nothing as intimately defined as 'together'. Jack had commented on their openness with one another once, a couple of days before New Year's Eve, and Troy had told him nothing was different. The unspoken comment was that they acted just how they had in Colorado when there was no one between them.
It was in the quiet moments when no one was around, that the depth of their bond really shone through. It was in that time that Gabriella would lean in close or Troy's hand would brush against hers for no reason other than to let her know he was there. There could be a crowd of people in the next room, but as long as they remained in a private bubble, separate from reality, Gabriella could let herself believe that they could last through anything. She knew the truth, what the inevitable was, but a simple touch from Troy could make her believe anything was possible. Yet, her precious moments of blissful thinking, would be yanked away by darker moments where Troy's illness showed through.
It was New Years Eve Eve as Lucille had taken to calling it, and she was out grocery shopping with Andy for enough food to feed an army. Her reasoning had been that any son of hers ringing in the new year at the Evans' mansion with Ryan and Sharpay Evans could only attend if said son had an ample supply of food to bring as an offering. Gabriella hadn't thought that Andy was close with the Evans' twins although she had heard their name mentioned on a handful of occasions, but there had been an explanation of a best friend's sister who was friends with the girlfriend of Ryan Evans that made every curious resident in the Bolton house shutup and simply nod. Gabriella muttered to Troy that it was an excuse to not be left alone in the house with them.
Jack and Lucille were likewise heading downtown to the Richmont Hotel where Jack had planned an exquisite evening for just the two of them. Troy had helped convince Lucille it was necessary, which meant Jack was out shopping for appropriate clothing to wear to the five star restaurant where reservations were booked for the evening as well. It left Gabriella and Troy home, savouring the privacy and watching a college basketball game on TV. Gabriella was wedged between the arm of the couch and the back, her feet stretched out on the coffee table and Troy's head in her lap. Her fingers lazily toyed with strands of his hair while her eyes held a slightly glazed look as she listened to the sports announcers drone on and on about hotshot players and potential college drafts. Troy's eyes were closed and his breath even, but every time she attempted to change the channel he would shift slightly and ask her what the score was. So she continued to watch the tiny orange ball be tossed back and forth and tried not to think about how it had been the boy in her lap only a month ago.
"Who just scored?" Troy mumbled drowsily as the fans on the screen screamed and yelled at a horn blast. Gabriella looked down at him and inwardly sighed, having no actual idea what the answer was. "El? Was it MacNeil?"
"Um, does he play for the blue team?" She saw the lines in his forehead crease into a frown.
"No, the blue team is UCLA. MacNeil plays for Delaware State," Troy told her, his eyes never opening as he relayed the information to her. "Who got the points for UCLA?"
"Oh, uh-," Gabriella scanned the backs of the red jerseys for a name. Any name. "-Michaels."
"I hate Micheals," Troy told her before turning his face away from the TV. "Tell me if Jacobs gets any."
"Sure," she told him, drawing out the word sarcastically. She thought she saw a slight tilt to his lips as she said it, but he never gave himself away so she continued to talk to herself. "Now who the hell is Jacobs?"
"Number 12," came the muffled reply and Gabriella rolled her eyes. "He plays for UCLA. Point-guard. Best in the league. Better than stupid playboy Michaels." Troy's hand moved so that it was laced with hers that rested over his shoulder and along his chest, following the path of couch cushions. "You're not wearing your bracelet," he mentioned.
"I took it off to shower and just didn't put it back on," she told him, glancing down to her bare wrist to see his fingers tracing a line where the silver band usually clung.
"I'm glad you wear it," he told her, his words disjointed from the drugs she had convinced him to take earlier and the broken sleep of the last hour. "It's a little piece of me and a little piece of Andy."
"That's why I love it," she assured him quietly, taking his hand so that he stopped the tickling motion with his fingers. "I'll put it on before dinner."
"You'll wear it tomorrow night, right?" he asked. He didn't wait for her to answer. "The skis were for Colorado. I wish we were there."
"Do you want to go?" she asked, sitting up straighter. Lucille and Jack had suggested returning for the beginning of January, but Troy had told them no. "We can go. You dad can get the tickets-"
"No, I mean I wish it was last year in Colorado. I wish it was last year so we still had a whole year left. We could ski and snowboard and hide in the cafe. If we went now, I wouldn't be able to use a board properly; it wouldn't be the same." He squeezed her hand. "Here is good. You're here. We don't need Colorado anymore."
She nodded, smoothing a hand down his cheek as he smiled at the touch, watching as he fell asleep again.
~*~
The Bolton house was a flurry of rushed activity as its residents flitted from room to room in an effort to gather what they needed before leaving for the evening. Upstairs, Gabriella could hear Andy rummaging through the cabinet under the bathroom sink for a toothbrush and toothpaste. He had yelled down the staircase a number of times trying to locate his razor, the hair gel and an iron, only to be yelled at for being loud while Troy slept. In the living room, his friends noisily ate the chocolate chip cookies offered by Lucille and fought over the TV remote in between yelling for Andy to hurry up so they could get going. A group of them were going out for pizza before heading to Evans' party. Gabriella caught Andy's shout of goodbye as he bounded past the door to the kitchen, his overnight bag in hand, stepping around his father who was on his way in from outside.
Jack grabbed the bottle of champagne and the bowl of fresh strawberries off of the table where his wife had left them before returning to the vehicle in the driveway that he was packing with two over night bags, some snacks and the clothing bags containing his suit and Lucille's dress for the night. Entering the house again, he called down to the laundry room where Lucille was finishing up her final task before they both left for the hotel downtown. He paused casually by the kitchen table, idly scanning the front page of the abandoned newspaper that had sat there all day. The rustling of the pages caused Gabriella to turn away from the counter where she was chopping peppers on the cutting board, the rhythmic sound of the knife on wood soothing as she worked.
"Do you have everything you need?" Jack asked, looking up and catching Gabriella's gaze as she paused in her preparations. She quickly surveyed the items scattered over the countertop before answering.
"Yeah, thanks," she replied demurely, feeling slightly uneasy about the evening. Swallowing her nervousness, she fixed her gaze on a spot on the wall just past Jack's ear. "I know Andy made that awkward comment at the table this morning, but I promise we're not-," Gabriella swallowed again, her cheeks burning to match the tomatoes clustered on the vine to her left. "I mean, it's not like that."
Continuing to stare at the floor, Gabriella tried to lessen the tension in the room and attempted to ignore the slight wince that crossed the older Bolton's face as her comment introduced unnecessary considerations into his head. Groaning, she spun back to the counter and began furiously chopping up the remainder of her red pepper, letting the tangy aroma permeate the air in the room. She had meant to assure him that her moments with Troy were more emotional than physical and that their developing relationship offered something profound to each of them that an empty house with all its possibilities could. Instead, she had opened herself up to a conversation she now desperately wished to avoid. Jack's sigh brought Gabriella's gaze back to his face, turning her head to look over her shoulder to where he was running a hand through his hair in a way both his sons tended to mimic.
"Gabriella, you love my son," he began, hesitating over the words, "It is only natural that you...uh...consider...certain things." He licked his lips and Gabriella expected him to look away and leave the discussion at that, but instead he suddenly looked directly in her eyes and his voice steadied the next time he spoke. "Just make him happy."
"That's all I want to do," Gabriella assured him as her hand hovered above the cutting board, her voice sure and holding no doubt.
~*~
Music drifted through the open French doors that separated the dining room from the living room where the sound system played. When it stopped for a moment, Gabriella paused and cocked her head to the side, waiting to hear the click that signalled the machine switching CDs. When the music resumed, she gave one last inspection of the room before dimming the light switch on the wall so that the chandelier hanging over the table emitted just enough light to be considered romantic without running the risk of confusing the salsa with the sour cream.
Bowls of food covered the table. In the beginning, she had thought to make fajitas, one of the few Mexican dishes she knew Troy would enjoy instead of being scared away by its foreignness. She had gone to the grocery store that morning and loaded up with everything she would need, but found herself picking up random items that weren't necessary. As the preparation had worn on, Gabriella had added chilli and traditional guacamole to the menu. Her plan for simple brownies evolved to include cinnamon funnel cake. Nibbling her lip in the dim dining room, listening for sounds of movement on the floor above her, she hoped that Troy wouldn't think she'd gone overboard. Stepping forward to straighten a place setting so that the fork was perfectly aligned with the knife, she was distracted by footsteps on the stairs.
"El?" Troy called, his voice letting her know he was confused about random music and the dirty dishes strewn about the kitchen that he would have encountered.
"Down the hall," she responded, stepping out of the room so he could see her when he entered the hallway. "How's the headache?"
"Gone for the moment," he answered and she hid her wince at his slightly cranky tone. She knew he was having a crappy day and that it was aggravated more than usual by the fact that he wanted their night to be perfect. She had picked up on the headache before he mentioned it, noticing that morning how he sat away from the windows and clenched his teeth at the smallest sounds. Only when all color had left his face and his movements became jerky did his mother order him upstairs. "I can't believe I slept through the entire afternoon," he sighed. His eyes widened when he stepped past Gabriella and saw the spread arranged on the table.
"I, uh, spent the day cooking," Gabriella began, her eyes shifting to follow Troy's gaze, "But if you're not hungry or feeling up to it-"
"You did all of this for us?" he asked, looking down at her with awe. "Were you going to invite an army to join us?"
"I know it's a lot but I was thinking about the other day when your dad brought home that crappy chilli from the diner and you mentioned wanting to taste real Mexican flavour," Gabriella babbled, wringing her hands together without meeting the piercing blue eyes that sent shivers spreading all over her body. "I don't know much from scratch but I talked to Mom yester day and she gave me some ideas and then I was in the grocery store and they had everything so I thought 'why not tonight?'. If you're not up to it though, that's okay."
"Ella," he chastised gently, tugging her arm so she pressed again his chest and forced her to look up, "It smells wonderful. Can it wait until I'm in something other than my sweats? We don't exactly match."
She hadn't even noticed. Yanking her eyes away from his, she scanned his shadowed form in the weak lighting. His sweats hung low on his hips, a deep crease proving that they had been slept in for some time, and a white t-shirt skimmed the waistband. It pained her each time she noticed that his clothes didn't fit quite the way they should, evidence that he was slowly losing the muscle he had worked years for. She grinned and lifted a hand to smooth down the fringe of hair that stuck up from the crown of his head. In an attempt to remain upbeat and teasing, she ignored the dark circles under his eyes. He was right, they didn't match she realized as she looked down at her black satin dress with its bubble skirt that stopped above her knees. The neckline dipped off her shoulders, giving the illusion of straps while in reality its glove tight bodice kept it from falling down.
"Take all the time you need," she told him, running a hand down his bare arm. She couldn't have cared less about what he wore but she knew he did. Hearing the ring of the timer in the kitchen, she left for the other room while he rushed back upstairs.
Twenty minutes later, Gabriella felt a pair of cold lips press against her temple as she set a steaming plate of chicken pieces in the center of the table. Turning, she inhaled sharply, taking in the navy button down and dark washed jeans. His hair was still damp, strands finger combed away from his face. Grinning, she savoured the smell of his cologne, trying to decide if she liked it more than the one she had grown used to; the one she'd encounter when he was asleep and unaware that she was that close.
"Don't you clean up good," she giggled, straightening the collar of his shirt with trembling fingers, her touch lingering along the open line of buttons at his throat.
"It's nice to have a reason," he told her, his voice husky as the tiny flickers of the chandelier bulbs glinted in his eyes. She saw him look at the table and grin, all remnants of his earlier pain erased from the corners of his eyes and mouth. "And I'm starving."
Gabriella wavered for a moment, but he wasn't looking at her so he missed the sliver of doubt in her face before she covered it up behind a strained smile. He was rarely starving or even remotely hungry during the past weeks. He ate on a schedule, no longer trusting his body to tell him what he needed, or when those around him urged him to try something. He ate, but the bites were few and far between, his actions resembling a child who had been given broccoli and spinach but wanted the chocolate ice cream. As he circled the table, asking her to identify certain foods and their ingredients, she watched for a spark of interest-anything- that told her she had found a way in. Smoothing a wrinkle in her dress with a sweaty palm, she felt her heart jump when he looked up to find her watching him.
"What?" he asked, his forehead creased.
"Nothing," she answered, stepping closer to the table and using the tongs to lay a floured tortilla on his plate. "Sit down and tell me what you want to try. There's chicken and beef, and every topping I could think of."
He asked about her day while she made the circuit of individual bowls filled with peppers, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese and homemade salsa. Placing the plate before him, she moved on to fill his bowl with chilli and another with Spanish rice before preparing her own meal. Gabriella watched from the corner of her eye as she debated over beef or chicken, something pulling in her gut as he ladled spoonfuls of chilli into his mouth. He hissed once, lowly, not expecting how hot it was. Taking the seat across from him, Gabriella stirred her rice before taking a bite, listening to Troy ramble about her cooking skills with his mouth full.
They chatted quietly about school and her mom, basketball and the book Gabriella was reading. Troy mentioned a movie he wanted to see and Gabriella told him about the horrific kung fu film that Andy had dragged her to the week before they left Stanford. The conversation was light, fun and teasing, and Gabriella found herself relaxing into the moment. More than once, her fork rested halfway between her plate and her mouth, her focus completely on Troy and the rest of the world forgotten. It was during a lull in the music, the CD stalling to be automatically changed, that Gabriella caught the first concrete hint that something was off with Troy. Something she hadn't noticed up until then.
"This is really great, Ella," he complimented, spooning another clump of pale green gunk from a near empty bowl. Gabriella nodded, enjoying his attention but having heard the same thing numerous times over the course of the hour.
"Thanks, I called my mom for the recipe-," she cut her sentence short when his actions finally registered. Her eyebrows came together, a line forming between them in confusion. "Troy, that's guacamole. You hate guacamole."
"Well, I like this," he answered her offhandedly, but Gabriella suddenly went rigid.
"No, I remember you having this conversation with your mom when she asked me about it. You said you had it once and hated the taste. You said it was indescribable and the lime juice left a sour taste in your mouth." The memory bombarded Gabriella with the exact words he had spoken, letting them spill off her tongue as she repeated it to him. "I knew you wouldn't eat it so I made it the way I like it. It's got more lime juice in it than most. You'd hate it."
She caught the guilty look in his eye at her accusing tone that was a mix between anger and hurt. She'd caught him in the lie, but she didn't know why he'd bother doing it. Her mind was working overtime, combining his earlier comment about being hungry with the way he'd been nonchalantly shovelling nachos with the green dip into his mouth only minutes before. Her brain was struggling to put together what it meant, a single missing piece the only thing stopping her from understanding. And then he reached out and plucked a pepper from his second fajita and set it on his tongue, chewing without any indication of its inherent spiciness.
"You can't taste it," she realized, her fork clattering to the plate and the hand wrapped around her water glass shaking. Quickly, she retracted both hands and gripped the arms of the chair, half rising from her seat. "You can't taste any of it, can you?" He didn't answer and tears pricked her eyes as their bubble of a perfect evening was popped and reality washed over them. "How long has it been going on?"
"It's called Ageusia," he told her quietly, his eyes filled with pain as he watched her falling apart, "It's what happens when the-"
"I know what it's called!" she yelled, pushing the chair back so it fell against the hardwood floor. Troy jumped but didn't stand with her. "I asked how long, Troy! I thought we agreed I was all the way in! I thought you agreed to tell me everything!"
"Ella, calm down," he reasoned, his voice level but his concern evident in the way he followed her clenching and unclenching hands.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" the tears were streaming down her cheeks, the full facts of the situation hitting her in the face during a moment when she least expected them. "You can't hide things like this. Maybe it's not that big of a deal to you, maybe you think it's just another symptom that is easy to hide, but it's not, Troy! It's a big fucking deal!"
"El-," she caught the tears before he looked away and she realized she was pushing too far but it hurt. It was like her heart was being ripped from her chest as he was pulled one step closer to the place beyond her reach. One step further from where she could touch him. One more harsh reminder of where they were headed. Gabriella gasped for breath, one hand in her hair and one on her cheek that felt hot enough to burn.
"You can't keep things from me. I need to know it's coming," she pleaded. Her back was against the wall to keep her upright as she tried to come down from her anger. "I need to be reminded. I need you to warn me so it's not so hard."
"It's hard for me too, El, that's why I don't tell you every time something comes up," Troy sighed, curling his fingers around an unused knife. Its silver plated edges caught the light and reflected it back upon his face. "The big things, when they come, won't be unseen or a secret; you'll see them. The little things though? Those I can shove to the back and forget they exist. We can pretend they're not there."
"I just wanted to do something different for you," she choked out, trying to get the words out past the lump in her throat. "I wanted to see you enjoy it and know that I did that."
"But Baby, I did enjoy it. I don't have to taste it to enjoy the fact that you went through all that effort. Knowing how happy it made you was all worth it, that's why I didn't tell you," he explained. "I just wanted to get through one night without having it thrown in our faces."
"Me too," she whispered. "But it's always there, like that feeling when you know someone is watching you but when you turn around, you see nothing. You say it's hard for you, and I know it is- how could it not?- but I'm not scared about the now. I'm scared about the after. I'm scared to know that someday you won't-," she lost all control then, sliding down the wall until her arms curled around her knees and sobs shook her shoulders that were freckled with goosebumps.
Gabriella didn't hear the chair scrape back, or his footsteps on the floor, but she felt the rush of warmth as Troy dropped down beside her. He didn't say anything, but his arm curled behind her back and pulled her closer until she was in his lap with her face pressed under his jaw. Gabriella's sobs had calmed to silent tears and trembling hands that reached around Troy's neck to toy absently with the hair that brushed the collar of his shirt as his hands rubbed up and down the sides of her dress. The music in the living room died as the four CDs completed their run, the silence crushing down on the couple in the next room as they clung to each other amidst billows of satin.
She wouldn't know who initiated it, but at some point, Troy's caresses became fierce and frantic while Gabriella's fingers stopped their gently massage and dug into his scalp. The salt from her tears dried on her cheeks as her lips seared the tender flesh beneath his jaw and ear. Suddenly she was spun in his lap, her dress riding up to expose her thighs in the poor lighting, and his hands searched blindly beneath the folds of fabric until the gripped her hips. Her hands drew identical paths down both sides of his face, her thumbs rubbing out the bruised circles under his eyes as blood rushed to fill both of their cheeks.
Her heart sped up to a chaotic beat as she bent her head into the kiss. Lips fused together, Gabriella felt herself pushing Troy harder against the wall as her hands gripped the shoulders beneath his shirt. His head tilted up and their pants slowed until they found themselves breathing in unison as Troy gained entrance to Gabriella's mouth and she bit back a tiny sound of pleasure. Troy pulled her hips flush against his and Gabriella felt hot all over.
"Not here," she gasped, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. "It can't be-, I won't let it happen here."
"You're right," he agreed, sliding his hands out and standing so abruptly that only his arm kept Gabriella from tumbling onto the ground. Yanking her towards him by the upper arm, she didn't even feel the bruising as she looked up to see his navy eyes almost black as the pupils expanded and dilated. "Upstairs, then."
"Hurry," she pleaded, her entire body temperature dropping by degrees as the loss of contact with him lasted longer than a few seconds.
Gabriella felt the air contract and expand between them. Breathing became difficult, but not impossible as she followed Troy up the stairs, stumbling when they stopped midway to pull his shirt over his head. It fell to the floor without a sound, a breadcrumb leading away from reality. Her patterned black tights followed, floating to create a filmy puddle of black on the white carpet of the top step. Outside the door to Troy's room, she slammed him against the wall. His white wife beater tangled around their feet as the door swung open and they tumbled inside.
The only light was a desk lamp, its shade casting a perfect circle of light on the center of the bed. Gabriella only glimpsed it for a second before Troy's fingers were clawing at the clasp of her dress to undo the zipper. It let go with a pop, the fabric slipping down her curves without any effort at all, leaving her in lacy black underwear and strapless bra. She yanked the clip from her hair, letting the tresses tumble down her back to Troy's delight. He gathered handfuls of it to let slip between his outstretched fingers, his behaviour childlike as he revelled in its silkiness before gathering it up and pulling her head to his. Together, they fell backwards onto the green sheeted bed, never losing awareness of where the other was.
His mouth was everywhere, his hands never leaving her skin, and Gabriella could barely keep track of the minutes as they passed. Their actions slowed as the pillows were tossed aside, becoming less frantic and hurried, slowing to a languid and savouring pace. Her fingers traced every inch of him, beginning at his face and ending beyond his hips once his pants and boxers joined her bra and panties on the floor of his room.
Time meant nothing to them. Outside, it ticked towards midnight, while inside they were suspended. Nothing could separate them. Nothing could threaten. Cancer didn't exist and it certainly didn't progress. When Gabriella had tasted each part of him, when she knew she could identify him in the dark with her eyes shut, she slipped beneath him and cupped his face with her raised hands. He paused in his ministrations, planting his hands on either side of her head and dipping to capture her lips. Pure pleasure rolled through her, and the pace quickened as each fought to cling to the moment while reaching for the satisfaction the other kept just out of reach.
"What are you waiting for?" Gabriella asked, gritting her teeth so she could get the words out without purring.
"It needs to be perfect," he told her, breathing heavily as his mouth forced her head back and found her collar bone. "You deserve perfect."
"I've already got it," she assured him, letting her gaze pierce into him to he knew she didn't lie. "This is as perfect as it gets."
"Make a wish first," Troy whispered, hovering above her.
"What?" Gabriella followed his gaze to the clock with its blurry red numbers. 11:58.
"It's almost New Years. You need to make a wish." She continued to stare as he murmured in her hair. 11:59.
"I wish you could give me forever," she told him. 12:00.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. As she whispered the time honoured greeting of the New Year in his ear, he slid inside her. On the bed, in his room, in an otherwise empty house, Gabriella lost herself in the belief that they could find forever in each other. Long after midnight had passed, and with it the rush of new beginnings, long after Troy had unwound his limbs from hers and cradled her head against his chest so that she could hear his heart drumming under his ribs like rain on a metal roof, Gabriella clung to forever.
