Getting the chapters done faster! Yay. This one is violent, just as a warning.

Enjoy!

It's the morning of Oct 31st. Troy's having a big Halloween party at his place tonight. I remember how he and I used to dress up in matching outfits for years and go together, roaming from door to door in our neighborhood, collecting Twixes and Blow Pops. We always were something very kick butt. Like twin Supermans or two ninjas, or two microwaves. Ok, microwaves, I know, but we were seven!

It's Friday.

Yesterday was Thursday.

Yesterday, I was a virgin.

It's Friday, so now I'm not.

It definitely feels different. I don't know what the fuck people are talking about when they say it doesn't change anything. It does. I feel weird. Like when I had sex with Sharpay, I lost something. Like she chewed a hole clean through me. And I feel like I gained something. Like she left some scrap of herself in me.

I don't know, it's fucked up and different.

Anyway, I'm thinking about this as I ride the bus, sitting by myself in the back. The bus is quiet cause there's only a few people on it, me, the driver, and some freshmans, plus everyone's half asleep in their seats, nodding off, or staring blankly outside, or listening to their iPod Shuffles. I feel like an idiot because I still am stuck taking the bus to school while Troy and Zeke have their own cars.

Gabriella used to take the bus and we'd sit and chat, but now she is picked up by Troy.

Whatever. I don't mind being alone. It lets me think. Oh, wait that's bad. It's cold, one of those days where the morning is freezing and by noon, you're sizzling. I wrap my jacket around me tighter and turn to look outside.

I stare out the window, at the wide pale sky. It's still early so a few stars still cling to it, fighting the rising sun, but the pink horizon beats them, stealing the attention, sending spurts of color upwards, yellow, orange, purple. It's beautiful.

And the landscape is just as nice. The gray early light warms the red chalky dust, beaming around the cacti and withered trees, casting black shadows. It's so nice that I actually take out my cell, and snap a picture. Small, but I'm satisfied .It looks so silent, so peaceful, I wish I could stand out there. In the abyss, away from the noise and the pollution of life. And just sit with the jack rabbits and lizards in the dirt all day.

I always liked mornings. When I was little, I was always the first one up in my house. I would jump on Harper first because he slept in the same room as I.

He was really tall and skinny, so I had to choose carefully where to jump because I never knew what was where with him. I usually aimed right and would plop myself on his stomach and he'd give a loud "Arrumph!" and then grab me and tickle me until I was laughing so hard I could pee.

Then I'd run straight to Andrea's room, and flip the light switch, and she always got grumpy. Then, before she could catch me, I'd dart into my parents big master bedroom, where I knew I'd be safe from my Morning Monster Sister's wrath, and I'd yank off my parent's floral blankets. They'd always laugh and rumple my hair. "I love waking up to my sunshine baby." My mom would say, smiling.

I still like mornings now, but usually I'm too annoyed with my family or feeling too sick from staying up all night, looking at porn or popping E.

However, this morning, it's good, because my parents were tired and slept in, and Andrea went to work early so it's been peaceful so far.

School is more excited than usual, since tonight everyone has big plans to dress up like freak shows and get hammered drunk. I waltz to homeroom, late as always, everybody's in his or her seats already, and Darbus is making morning announcements.

"Ahh, Danforth, you've finally graced us with your attendance." She says sarcastically when she spots me. I shrug, not in the debate mood. Clearly, Darbus wasn't either. "Sit down, and be quiet." She says, going back to her chair.

Yes, no detention, and if I just shut my ass up maybe today will actually be good.

I see Sharpay examining herself in her compact, she doesn't acknowledge presence. I won't lie, I feel slightly crestfallen, it's not as if I was expecting all this kissing and smiles and shit, ok, maybe I was. But why does she have to return to being such an icy bitch so fast again?

Whatever, I collapse into my seat, without noticing that Taylor had smiled warmly at me.

After class, where I sat thinking about Sharpay's neck the whole time, I bolt for the door, in front of the rest, I hear Troy laugh at my eagerness.

"Stoked about tonight, buddy?" he comes up beside me, wrapping his arm around my neck and squeezing roughly, making me stumble and laugh. I shove him away, "You bet, what are you going as?"

He makes a flourishing bow, waving his hands, "Ze Count of Monte Cristo, at your service!" he says dramatically in a very bad French accent.

I crack up, "That's so random! How do you come up with that? And plus, that guy didn't have an accent."

Troy chuckles, "It was Gab's idea; she's going as some girl from the early 1800's, Jane Austen or something weird. Anyhow, she wanted me to wear tights but I refused so now I'm wearing these breaches as she called them."

I recoil, "Ew, a leotard?" Troy pushes me playfully, "What are you going as, dumb ass?"

"Ehh, hadn't really given it to much thought, but I'm thinking like a dead skater dude. You know, blood on my face, broken skate board, all that cool shit." I say.

Troy nods, "Sounds good, man. Gotta a date?"

"Shit, we need dates?" I hadn't thought of it.

"We don't need them but I assumed you'd ask Taylor to like come with you. Why, are you guys ok?" he looks worried.

"No, no, I haven't, but I will. We're fine." I say quickly.

"Well, ok, only if you're sure, man. Taylor and you haven't been talking much and she told Gabriella that she's worried about you." Troy tells me.

"Oh?" I'm nervous. "Why?"

"I don't know, something about you being distant. And she said that you always look sick. You always look tired and tense, are you feeling ok, man?" Troy's looking at me carefully, as if trying to read me.

I shake my head, my mopish hair swinging in my face, "I'm fine. I've just been tired and stuff with college. My parents are making a huge deal about it." I lie.

Troy nods understandingly, "I know, my dad doesn't shut up about it, it makes me nervous. But, hey, you know you should talk to Taylor about it, she knows all about it."

I scoff; Taylor's the last person I want to talk about my future with. Especially after yesterday. I get a flashback of Sharpay groaning with lust and suddenly my insides burn again.

"Yeah, I should, man." I tell Troy.

Then, Troy heads to drama class, as I go to Taylor's locker where she's carefully putting at least ten big books crammed in my bag. I do the dorky cute things boyfriends always do; I sneak up behind her and put my hands over my eyes. She laughs.

"Hi, Chad." She says, turning, and I can't get over how damn nice she looks. Shit, and right after I cheated in her two. She's wearing a white woolen sweater with a V-neck so I can plenty of bust and a cute black skirt just snug enough for my liking. Long sparkly earrings and red lipstick, she looks so hott.

"Hey," I say, leaning on her locker, so close to her I almost brush against her body. Cinnamon clouds my senses. "Hi, hon." She says, she seems glad I'm talking to her. She probably was worried that I wouldn't anymore after that lake date fiasco weeks ago.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" I ask, as I always do. It's a custom, I ask and then she says…

"Homework."

I laugh, "Cancel it; we're going to Troy's party tonight." She smiles, "Ok, what are you going as?"

"Dead skate boarder. Blood and guts and a skateboard." She grimaces, "Delightful, I'm going to be a fairy god mother."

"Ooh, sexy, so you and I can be immortal beings together." I flirt; she smirks, "Very funny. The party's around nine so I pick you up, 8:45ish?"

"Sounds good, don't be late."

She rolls her brown eyes, "I never am."

"See you, hon! I wave as I walk away.

"Chad! Wait!" she shouts, I turn, "Yeah?"

She pauses, biting her lip, "I missed you." She says, and fuck, she's so sincere that it makes me writhe with guilt; I hadn't missed her at all.

"You too, baby. Can't wait for tonight and see you all prettied up for me." I wink and walk away, not knowing that she had gotten dressed up for me all week and I hadn't even fucking noticed.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

I hadn't seen Sharpay all throughout the rest of the day and was disappointed. I wasn't sure if she'd be going to Troy's party or not but I could always hope.

I come home and the house is empty and silent, I eat some Chef Boyardee and watch Punk'd. Then, I steal some E from Andrea's vanity and dry swallow it easily. I also take some lipstick and dark eye make up.

I don't really have any punk rock clothes, I mostly am preppy, but I find an old pair of baggy army pants and a white long sleeved shirt. Then, I carefully smear dark eye shadow and eyeliner all around my eyes so they look sunken in and, then some purple on the cheekbones for bruises, then I creatively daub red lipstick here and there and voila! I look impressively dead! I did face paint at my eight-year-old cousin's birthday party once so I'm pretty savvy with brushes and shit.

I root through our kitchen and find some red food coloring my mom uses to dye icing pink and I blotch my shirt and pants with it to look like wounds.

Hat, hat, I need a hat. I pull my hair in a ponytail, and an old tattered Red Sox hat completes my look.

Its 8:30, Taylor will be here soon, I wonder what her costume will look like. Probably like a long poofy ball gown and dorky glittery children's wings.

I sit in the surgically clean family room and watch Bikini Island, waiting for Taylor's headlight to come flooding through our big picture window.

Nine o'clock comes and goes, Taylor is never late. Ever. Maybe she got in an accident. I call her cell and she doesn't pick up. I'm not panicking but definitely am uneasy,

Finally, at nine thirty, I lock my front door and set off to walk to Troy's party. It's not far, about three miles. It's cold, and dark, and there are drunks out but I trudge along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in my pockets, and I'm thinking so hard that I forget to bring my skateboard.

When I show up, I see that the party is in full swing. Coach Bolton would never allow alcohol so; everyone snuck it in and is drinking their beers in Red Bull cans and sports drink bottles. Loud rap music blares, the front yard is crowded with people, some guys are throwing a Nerf ball around, I can barely squeeze through the front door, the house is packed, people are even sitting on the stairs. Laughing, tripping, kissing, it's crazy and harsh. I feel light headed.

Everyone's wearing bizarre outfits, mermaids, knights, cats, zombies, hippies, cowboys, and kitchenware. I see Jason briefly and he's dressed as Ron Burgundy.

I squeeze through, "Scuse me, sorry, my bad." I repeat over and over again as I fight my way to the kitchen.

And finally, I manage to stumble through and boom I smack into Gabriella, she's dressed in a old fashioned dress, her hair all pinned up elegantly. She doesn't look particularly thrilled.

"Sorry, Gab, what's up? Yo, nice outfit! Who are you, Scarlet O'Hara?"

"No, Elizabeth Bennett." She says, her tone blank.

"Cool! No idea who she is!" I grin.

"Troy's looking for you." She says, and suddenly, I catch her drift. Something's wrong. Majorly.

"Oh, ok, where is he? Tell him that I'm here." I tell her.

She looks over my shoulder and I turn and see that he's already there. He's wearing a blue overcoat with a ruffly shirt collar and these tan tight pants and cool shiny boots, and his face is the essence of the word, pissed off.

"Dude, uhh, cool shoes. Count of Monte Cristo, right?" I say, hoping that I can postpone whatever catastrophe with politeness.

"Mr. Darcy." Gabriella corrects me.

"Aha, very hard core." I praise. Troy grabs my arm, suddenly, and jerks me away; he's twisting my arm so tightly it kills.

"Ouch, what the fuck?" I struggle but Troy overpowers me and yanks me into the unoccupied bathroom. Thankfully, no vomit yet. He whams the door shut, locks it, and turns on the light switch. I'm staring at him; I've never seen him like this before. He's glaring at me, breathing hard.

'Um," I start to say but Troy's yell cuts me off.

"What the hell?" he shouts, I flinch.

"Um," I swallow,

"What the hell?" he screams again, manically.

I take a step backward and he comes forward, slamming me into sink.

"What were you thinking of?" he says, quieter but even more angry, his nostrils flaring

He knows. Shit. Gabriella knows. Fuck, everyone knows.

Taylor kn-

No, no, please, God no.

"What are you talking about?" I fake dumb, I'm excellent at that.

And he pushes me hard in the chest, nearly knocking the wind from me.

"You know damn well what I mean!" Troy hollers.

I shake my head and he grabs my shoulders roughly and bangs me against the mirror, I'm practically sitting on the counter now, with Troy cornering me.

"Admit it!" he yells.

"Admit what?" I challenge, trying to loosen his grip on me, but his hands are full of my shirt and he won't let go.

"That you did it!" he accuses.

"Did what?" I sneer back.

Shit, Troy, you're my best friend, don't say it. Don't say it. Save me, save me, save me by not saying it and making it never be known.

"That you had sex with Sharpay." He whispers. His blue eyes clouded with anger and bewilderment. And his soft tone breaks me into far tinier pieces then his yelling ever could have.

I tip my head back, and fight a rising lump in my throat.

"I don't know." I can barely speak it hurts so bad.

"Man, you cheated on Taylor. You broke her heart."

I close my eyes and the darkness burns.

"She knows?" I croak.

Troy's hands relax and he slumps back, "Of course, everyone does. Kelsi heard you in the auditorium and told Ryan who was overhead by Martha who can't keep her fat mouth shut and now, the entire school knows that Chad Danforth got laid with Sharpay Evans."

This is a nightmare. No, this is worse, this is hell. Pure hell.

Kelsi heard us. Heard us. Sweet innocent Kelsi whom I actually think is nice and one of the few tolerable people left in school heard me moaning. Sweating, begging Sharpay, heard the slapping of skin, the bumping and thrusting against the wall, heard her scream my name, heard me wail hers.

Oh fuck, I feel sick.

I open my eyes and Troy looks so disheartened that I don't see how life is worth living.

I had no idea that while I got it on with Sharpay that I'd be hurting so many people. My girlfriend, my best friend, my girlfriend's best friend.

Shit.

Troy takes a deep breath. "Dude, tell me why?"

I explode, "Cause she's fucking hott, ok? Because I can't tell you how many times I've fantasized about her naked, ok? Because I needed to have sex so badly that every night I lay in my bed and masturbated until I ached, dreaming of her! Because Taylor is a prude. Because I wanted to do something. Something crazy! Something outrageous! Something wrong! Something that hurts! Something that I regret for the rest of my life! Ok? Happy?" I'm hysterical, screaming, waving my hands around.

Troy nods, "Well, now you've done it, are you happy?"

I fucking hate him.

"No." I say, and my voice cracks and I want to cry so badly but I won't, I haven't in years. And I won't tonight. Ever.

Troy grabs my shoulder and makes me look at him, "Zeke is going to kill you." He says, dead serious.

Oh, my god. I had forgotten about Zeke.

"Shit, what do I do?" I panic.

"Apologize to him." Troy says, as if it's as easy as asking your parents for five bucks. He has no clue. Zeke is tall and he could knock me flat. I've never seen him angry, I never want to.

I stare at Troy, "No way."

Troy shrugs, suddenly nonchalant, "You screwed up, man, you fix it."

Oh, god, no I need him. I need him to help me.

"Fine, I don't need your fucking help." I retort.

And I fumble for the door and blindly stumble out, bumping into a tall red head girl.

"Watch it, oh look, its Sharpay's Sex toy." She mocks and her silly trio giggles.

I shove them away, "Fuck off." And I head for the front door, I need to get out. Out. Out. Out of here, home. I need to get home. Anywhere but here. I need to get to my safe room. Safe room, that's right, concentrate on getting to my safe room.

"YOU BASTARD!"

I'm less than ten feet from the door and I hear Taylor's frenetic voice.

Shit, I can't move fast enough. I keep walking.

"FREEZE!"

I obey.

I turn around and Taylor is a wreck. I was right, a long white shimmery gown with white glittery wings, a plastic wand, and a little tiara on her head. Her silvery make up is all smeared from crying and she's more upset than I've ever seen her.

"How could you?" she screeches.

I'm not going to play weak like I first did with Troy.

I'm not going to hide, or lie this time.

"I wanted to." I say bluntly.

She stops, shocked.

"You sick bastard. I gave you everything!" she sobs.

"Not what I needed. You gave me shit when I needed sex. I need it, Taylor, sorry to be crude. But I'm a normal red blooded guy and you didn't fit the bill."

She stares, "You're no gentleman, you're a dog!" she screams.

"I never said I was a fucking gentleman, you were always trying to make me something I wasn't! I'm not a math genius or the prefect date! I am who I am, got that? And I change for no one! Not for you, not for Troy, and not for God!" I roar back. A crowd is gathered around us, staring, whispering, I don't even care.

"You just told me sweet shit so you could sneak off to detention to that Sharpay slut!" Taylor snaps.

"Yeah, maybe I did, but just for the record, she initiated it."

Taylor snorts in humorless amusement.

"Yeah right, I know you liked her. You dissed her and pretended not to care, but I saw you admiring her legs and watching her during class. I saw it all! And I tried so hard to get you back, I was so nice all week, dressing up, saying hi but you didn't even look at me! You always were somewhere else, your eyes so far away. And I'm sick of trying to be slutty and appealing, Chad! I won't sleep with you! It'd break my parents heart and plus, I don't really want to so there!"

"Fine! I didn't want to get laid with your fat ass anyway. Get away from me, you stupid Conservative bitch. I hate you!" I can't believe how cruel I can be. It sickens me. Stop talking. Just stop talking.

Her face crumples again and she flees the scene, sobbing into her hands stormily, Gabriella runs to her side.

"We're finished!" Taylor shrieked over her shoulder.

"Good! I was done with you ages ago anyhow!" I say furiously.

"You'll be sorry for this Chad! Just you wait!" she says as she disappears in the crush of intoxicated teenagers but I'm too mad to care.

"Yeah, go, bitch, we don't care!" I hear a shrill screech. And a very smashed Sharpay staggers forth. She's clutching a root beer can that smells strongly of whiskey and her speech is slurred so badly I can hardly hear a word.

"Nobody cares about you, McKessie! Good riddance! Only reason I shagged your little boyfriend is because he was so uptight and dying for release that I felt bad for the damn kid." She shouts.

Shit, oh shit, she doesn't care about me. She doesn't dream of me. Like I did of her. I was just a good fuck. A way to make Zeke jealous.

Sharpay trips and crashes onto me, laughing insanely. "Oh, Chad, babes, you don't need her." Sharpay kisses me sloppily on the corner of my mouth and I shove her away. She revolts me.

I turn and try to break free of the circle of people but I feel an insanely powerful arm grab my neck and slam me to the floor.

The rest is a blur of pain.

Zeke's yelling at me, I hear his cusses and accusations through the haze of agony. His face above me is contorted in this barbaric rage. He's probably drunk too, I smell it.

"PIECE OF SHIT! LOUSY MOTHERFUCKER, FUCKING WITH MY GIRL, HUH? I'M GONNA CUT YOU UP! AND I'M GONNA BURN YOU! FUCK, FUCK YOU, BASTARD! SHITTY LYING FUCK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!"

I can't understand a word he's saying, but if I did, I'm sure I'd be trying to apologize.

Again and again, his fists come in contact with my face, I feel something crack and swelling on my lip and above my eye. Blood gushes from my nose and I can't breath. I moan and try to twist away but he rolls me over, sits on my chest, and grabs my throat, strangling me.

I gasp and choke, writhing, I see orange spots.

Then, someone wrenches him off, I can't even sit up. I hear shouts, screaming, swearing, glass breaking, and some people crying. Then thundering.

Wait, that's people running.

Past me, through the door, banging in to me head, kicking me on purpose or by mistake, stepping on my hands, and sloshing their alcohol on me.

I roll over and look up the ceiling, a little chandelier hangs in the Bolton's entryway. I can barely see it, my vision is so foggy.

"Chad?"

Blessed darkness.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHS

I come to by throwing up, violently. The hand that had been slapping my face jerks out of sight as I puke my insides up, I don't even aim. Just up all over me.

"Ew, shit, man."

Troy.

Thank God, I need someone whose not gonna hate me. Or maybe he does. Well, at least I know he won't act like it.

I struggle to focus, I open my eyes wider, and they water insanely.

My face feels like a piece of butchered meat, exquisitely tender and raw to the touch. I graze my forehead with my thumb as I push my hair away and it sears with unearthly pain.

I look around and realize I'm in the bathroom again, Troy must've dragged me in here, I'm laying on the cold tiled floor and he's crouching next to me. "Can you sit up?" he asks me. I nod and wince, and he grabs me under my armpits and heaves me up so I'm now perched on the toilet.

"Ah, ok, better, now I need to do something about that face." Troy fishes out the First Aid kit and opens it up. I feel like a truck ran over my. My side aches and I can barely talk, my jaw is actually numb.

"What happened?" Troy stops and looks at me, "It was really bad, dude." He says calmly.

He kneels in front of me and holding a damp cloth, he gentle touches my forehead with it. I scream, and jerk back. It hurts so badly, I can't stand it.

Troy recoils. "Ok, dude, then, can you take off the shirt? It reeks." I struggle to comply but my arms are too heavy and my hands are too big so Troy sighs and disregarding the vomit, he reaches over and gently lifts my shirt over my head. He tosses it into the shower stall and runs some hot water over it.

I forget on what a good friend he is. What stupid shit I need him to do. How he does it, no questions.

"Zeke was beating me up." I say, somewhat tonelessly, as if I don't believe it myself.

Troy doesn't say anything.

"What happened?" I beg.

Troy sighs, "Zeke went berserk, and it was freaking everyone out. He was seriously going to kill you so I ran forward to stop it but Sharpay who was acting crazy, crying, got to you before I did. She yanked Zeke away and he punched her accidentally. Her mouth started bleeding so Ryan took her home. She was in hysteria, sobbing your name. Then, my dad called the cops, he was really mad at me, said that I couldn't keep a party under control. The cops showed up real fast and Zeke bailed before they could grab him. So, now I'm grounded, my parents went to bed arguing, and my house is a mess, and you're a wreck. But at least, I didn't tell my parents it was your fault. I covered for you; otherwise, they would've chucked you with the rest of them. Thank me."

"Thank you." I snuffle.

I stand up, the ground spins and tips, and I nearly fall, but Troy grabs my arm and steadies me, I look in the mirror and gasp.

Is that me?

My face is swollen, and a Picasso of cuts, bruises, scrapes, dried blood, real and fake, make up smeared everywhere, my eyes are bloodshot, and look like they're peering out of tunnels, my eye make up is all runny and messy.

My nose isn't broken but my teeth are bloody and the sides of my head are pounding so hard that I feel ready to burst.

I bend over, turn the faucet on its hottest, and scoop the scalding water onto my face.

The indescribable pain, there are no words for it. Past physical normalcy, such pain.

But I have to clean out the cuts. Cleanse them expose them, heal them with such heat.

How I wish water could clean the pain and scars inside of me.

I growl and splash water on my damaged face again, and again, I'm shaking badly I can barely function. I'm leaning over the pouring water, the steam rising, panting. Troy reaches over and turns off the faucet.

"Don't torture yourself." He tells me, handing me a soft clean towel, which I ever so gently pat my face with, and its still tingling so I barely feel it.

I look back in the mirror. Red, and purple, and swollen but the lack of make up is an improvement.

"Wanna put some medicine on it?" he holds up a tube of antiseptic. I nod and he squirts out some of the thick paste on his finger and dabs it in my face, the sting is sharp but I suck it up.

I suddenly get a random memory of being about nine year's old and playing Troy by this creek that we had found. Troy had slipped and cut his knee badly and I had carried him on my back to my house and bandaged up his knee for him. I remember his mother praising me, I remember being so proud that I could take care of my best friend, I remember being as careful as can be as I wrapped his leg in toilet paper. "I'll be your doctor, and you never have to worry because I'm always gonna be there to make sure you never get an owies." I had told him, and Troy grinned and munched on the cookie I had given him, trusting me, thinking everything I did was right.

Those were the days. Before college applications, before parental tyranny, before sex, before betrayal, before drugs, before all of this bad shit.

"Dude, you ok?" Troy's looking at me as he puts some more medicine on his finger and works it on my forehead. Its cold, and it hurts, I squirm and lean away, "Don't press so much." I say, whining.

Troy complies wordlessly.

"Hey, you gotta help me clean up my house." He says after a minute or two, "You owe me, plus tomorrow's Saturday anyhow."

"Sure, I don't care. Not tonight though." I say.

"Oh, yeah, pssh, not tonight. I'm dead. Tomorrow morning. Hey, wanna sleep over? Still have your some of your stuff that you left when you last slept over. My mom washed your nasty boxers." He teases.

I grin, and my lip cracks and bleeds.

"Whoa, shit." I wipe it away shakily. Troy gently smoothes some medicine over my hurt lip, his touch is incredibly gentle and soothing. He's so calming. I don't know, maybe its cause he's my brother.

"Thanks man." I say, Troy nods and washes his hands, he switches off the light. "Let's crash, man. Tomorrow, we'll clean." He says, opening the door and going out. I look around and shit, I hadn't noticed how trashed a house can get.

Streamers, mashed chips, CDs, pieces of glass, even baloney is all over the floor, walls, furniture, everywhere.

"Shit, we'll be at it all day!" I'm amazed.

"Yeah, well, you have to help." Troy says, going upstairs. I follow him and the upstairs is just as bad. We go into Troy's room and it looks as it always does.

Chaos. Basketball shit, clothes, empty cardboard boxes, and exercise equipment is everywhere. A GreenDay poster on the wall, along with one of Michael Jordan. His laptop sits at his big desk, humming, a wallpaper of Gabriella and him at the beach set at the back.

He flops onto his bed and pries off his sneakers, "Hope no one had sex in here." He says, tentatively sniffing his sheets, which even have basketballs on them. I lay down the other twin mattress he keeps in his room, just for me, and don't even bother taking off my shoes. "I don't care if they did." I yawn.

He chuckles and pulls the covers up to his chin. He turns off his lamp so we're both immerged in blackness.

Silence, I hear him breathing, slow, deep. I know he's awake. Probably thinking of Gabriella.

"Dude?" I say.

"I'm tired, Chad." Troy says, he always says that but tonight he sounds it.

I don't care.

"Are you mad at me?"

Breathing, he's thinking.

"No," he says at last.

"Are you disgusted?" I ask next.

He pauses even longer, "Yeah." he says finally.

"I'm sorry." I say.

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Taylor, and Zeke, and Sharpay."

"Sharpay?" I'm mad, "She pounced me!"

Troy doesn't say anything.

"Do you believe me?" I'm scared, if Troy doesn't, then I have lost every ally in the world.

"Yeah, I do. I knew she was interested in you. I heard her talking to Kelsi about you."

I know I shouldn't but I feel better and something inside of me relaxes, so she did feel something, yes.

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't say sorry. Just apologize for the entire mess. You didn't need to go along with her when she basically made herself available to you. You should say sorry for failing to say no at the time."

Troy sounds like a parent.

But one that gives a fuck.

"You're right." I say, I don't plan to apologize though.

"But I'm just bummed about the whole thing dude. I thought you had a great thing going with Taylor but I should've figured something was wrong after you told me about that date with Taylor, where you kissed her and she got mad, and you started talking about Sharpay . I should've done something."

I can't believe it. Troy feels bad? For what I did? The world is a mess.

"I stopped liking Taylor while ago." I confess.

"I know, but that was a shitty way to break it to her." Troy chides me.

"Was I too mean tonight?" I ask.

"Totally. I had never heard anyone fight like that before in my life, and I know my grandparents." Troy said.

I feel like shit.

"Hey, how come you didn't fight back when Zeke hit you?" he asks randomly.

Oh, hell, I don't know.

"I deserved it." I say.

Troy thinks for a minute.

"A punch is fair, or maybe two, that's why I didn't stop him at first, you needed your ass kicked a little and I wasn't going to do it, but Zeke went too far. He was out of control; it wasn't a fair fight at all. You should've stood up for yourself a little, man."

Shit, this is stupid, First, he tells me I deserve it, the he says I was basically a wimp for not fighting back? What the fuck?

"Troy?

"Yeah?"

I lick my lips, I have this question burning inside of me, but I don't know what the words are.

"Never mind."

"No, what?" Troy pries.

"No, forget it." I say quickly.

"Ok, man. Let's get some sleep. We'll be busting out asses like maids tomorrow." Troy says, I hear him roll over, and a few minutes later, I hear soft snores.

He's out like a light.

I lay in bed for a while longer, my hands behind my head, staring at his fading glow in the dark stars I know so well.

I sit up, I check to make sure Troy's asleep, he mumbles and scratches himself absently. Yep, he's asleep.

Then, I slip out of bed, into the dark hallway and creep to the bathroom. Its cold.

I lock the door and turn on the light. I squint as I open up the mirror cabinet and take out one of Troy's electric shavers.

I carefully take one of the spare razors.My breathing is fast as I slide out the small razor from its package. I look at myself in the foggy bathroom mirror and see a young sad damp face stare back at me, with deeply circled haunted eyes and a mouth that looked like it quite had forgotten how to smile.
And I look away, disgusted by my own reflection, and without a second thought, I dig the metal shard deep into my wrist. Blood springs up and seeps across my skin, and the pain fires up my entire arm.

I wince, and felt a sudden spasm of nausea and revulsion for this horrific self-mutilation practice I now just have inflicted upon myself. I shake the sickened feeling away and gouge another cut.The blood is alarming, I can't stand looking at it, and I lift my face upwards and squeeze my eyes shut. Trying to block out all the emotional agony and lifeblood pouring from my body.
After several tense minutes, I manage to get a hold of myself, and I clean the blood up, wipe it off the counter, bandage my arm crudely with toilet paper, and snagging one of Troy's shirts from the laundry bin the in corner, I yank it on and carefully roll long shirtsleeve down. Then, I wash my face and look in the mirror again. Same face, but calmer, drier. I inhale and exhale deeply. "That's the first and last time I ever do that." I swear to myself
Problem is, is that it isn't.

I know that some of the moments between Troy and Chad appear slashy but I promise you that they are not. I love how brotherly Troy and Chad are and I don't want to ruin it. They are as straight as they come in this fic. Thank you.

Please review!