Chapter 4:Escape

As the first rays of day break accompanied by milky hues of pink, orange and yellow began to spread out in the sky, engulfing the remaining velvety purple, blue and black of the night, a blue pickup pulled up at the front of the Evans mansion. Horn blearing, it shattered the peaceful silence of the morning.

On the second floor of the home, the blue eyes of Ryan Evans snapped open, his ears picking up a stream of curses pealing from his sister's mouth and Zeke's more mellow voice, still thick with sleep, attempting to soothe her.

Ryan's cat Hollybell looked to his master from where he lay at his feet, ears pulled back and eyes wide in alarm.

"It's okay, Holl. Easy now." Ryan reached over and gently ruffled the fur behind the cat's ears to comfort the perturbed animal. After the silence had stretched on for several seconds uninterrupted, the tortoiseshell relaxed, settling comfortably back into position with his paws tucked neatly beneath him and his tail curled around his body. Shifting his weight slightly, Ryan slid off of the bed, moving to the window. Squinting into the light, he blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the contrast. Spotting the familiar vehicle he had diligently watched for at Lava Springs parked in the road in front of his place of residence, his heart jolted, the feeling traveling circa to his stomach and back around. There was a name for this feeling as well; a title by association. This, he told himself, is Troy also. For a moment, his brain ceased functioning, leaving him standing there, peering out the window, fingers pressed to the glass. Then, he remembered the text message he had received the night before. It was still emblazoned there in his mind, the red font just behind his retinas.

"I'm picking u up tomorrow. We're going out."

Life surged back into his limbs, and he dashed to his closet, flinging clothes everywhere in desperation to find the "perfect outfit". Gotta look good for Troy, he chanted silently. Have to look good for Troy.

Sharpay glowered at the pair of males, her fierce gaze centered mostly on the brunette athlete, whom she felt to be intruding upon her time reserved for beauty sleep. "What the hell do you think you're doing here at the very ass crack of dawn?" She demanded. With her arms folded across her chest and her brown eyes blazing, an expression her brother knew only too well, she was quite formidable indeed. Only someone who was out of their mind would dare to challenge her.

Troy Bolton was either insanely brave, or completely insane. Ryan was not sure which one.

"I came to pick Ryan up. We've got plans." As he spoke, Troy's hand found its way around one of the smaller boy's shoulders to clench the one opposite it. To anyone else, it was nothing more than a gesture of friendship. To the twosome themselves, the contact seemed much more significant.

Zeke stood at Sharpay's side, just as exhausted thanks to Troy's wake-up call, but putting forth a better front than his significant other. He seemed just on the verge of saying something to his brunette friend, his brown eyes swimming with confusion, yet, he was unwilling to say something that might further rile the blonde female.

Her gaze sweeping over the two adolescents, unchanging as it passed over her brother, Sharpay turned up her nose. For a moment, Ryan was stricken with fear that she would object. And he had found such a lovely outfit. The top was a black t decorated with the outlines of pink butterflies fluttering among dense forest leaves attached to the sleeves of a white long sleeve shirt, giving the appearance of two different garments. Form hugging black jeans clung tightly to his waist, dipping slightly into a v-curve under the hot pink belt holding them up. Finishing the look off was a black pageboy hat, brim turned off to the side at just the right angle. "Whatever!" Sharpay scoffed. Turning away, she ordered Zeke, "Let's go."

"Where?" The tall athlete asked meekly.

'To bed!" Sharpay snapped her answer and began ascending the staircase, leaving Zeke to scramble behind her.

Exchanging a glance, Troy and Ryan tried to no avail, to keep images of the alternative meaning of the female's answer from bombarding their minds.

Sliding into the passenger seat of Troy's truck, Ryan buckled his seat belt, casting a wary glance around the vehicle's cockpit. "Um… this is safe right?" He inquired, slightly unnerved by the uneven purr of the engine.

"Don't worry," Troy assured him. "If worse comes to worse we can always get out and hail a taxi."

The blond peered curiously at the brunette, expecting him to be joking. There was no humor about the athlete's tanned visage. Taking it upon himself to lighten the mood, Ryan teased "Well if we're going to fool around, you better take me to a hotel."

Troy gave him an odd look and then laughed. Hard. It almost seemed that he was inviting Ryan to laugh with him, and the smaller boy almost accepted the invitation. Almost. "That comes later."

Ryan eyed him, finding that once again, the brunette boy was perfectly serious. Turning slowly away, he felt heat creep along his face, pink filling its creamy pallor. If Troy really wanted me, I wouldn't stand in his way, he resigned.

Switching the gear into drive, Troy began steering the vehicle, his speed moderate as they were still in a resident area. The blond could not help but take notice of how shabby the golden boy's hand-me-down truck looked next to the ritzy sports cars, tricked out SUVs and snazzy convertibles of his neighbors. There was no rust, no chipped paint anywhere in sight. Even his Vespa was in better repair than the vehicle he was currently riding shotgun in. But there was still something about the roving trash heap that made him feel… safe. "Family heirloom, huh?"

"It was my dad's," Troy stated, his fingers tapping the wheel at the ten o'clock and two o'clock positions. "So yeah, I guess you could call it that."

Ryan remained silent for several seconds until his inquisitive side got the better of him once more. "It has a… homey feel to it."

"Yeah, I guess it does." The brunette smiled at his companion.

Once again, the actor felt inclined to return the smile, wondering if maybe it wasn't the car at all, but the company of its occupants.

The two of them entered the café at going on seven a.m. along with other early risers. There was a couple with a toddler, a man in a business suit tapping away on the keyboard of his laptop and several other customers peering over the contents of the menu. A quick surveillance proved that they were the only high school students in the establishment aside from a heterosexual couple that was partaking in the act of feeding one another scrambled eggs, eating off of the same spoon.

Grinning slyly, Troy whispered, "We should try that," to which Ryan could only blush.

They picked a booth near the window, Troy sliding into his seat. Instinctively, Ryan made to take the seat across from the athlete, but Troy motioned for him to sit down beside him.

The performer did not object.

"Are you tired?" Troy asked, seeing the dark circles of sleep deprivation despite the cover-up Ryan had spent a good forty-five minutes applying.

"No," the male twin lied, stifling a yawn. The attention was redirected for a moment as Troy's stomach grumbled loudly in discontent, causing its owner to blush. "But apparently you're hungry." Troy's so attractive when his face is flushed.

"It's summer," the brunette basketball god explained. "I'm usually dead to the world until about ten-thirty. And even if I'm only semi-conscious, I somehow make my way to the kitchen and end up spooning either cereal or pancakes to my mouth."

Ryan couldn't agree. Was he even able to recall the last time he had eaten pancakes or a measly bowl of cereal?

"Ry?"

The blond looked up, startled, only to find Troy peering at him with an anxious expression. "You okay?" He asked, lightly touching the boy's porcelain face.

He wasn't, but again, he couldn't lie to Troy's face either. Managing an empty smile, he murmured, "Hopefully I will be."

The other boy's expression did not change, but he did not further press the issue. Instead, he lightly squeezed Ryan's shoulder, his touch strong and firm.

The petite blond felt that he could jut slip away, escape everything and leave it all far behind him. His self-loathing, his bitterness, his detachment from everything that he once cared about. Troy had an effect on him that rippled out from under his touch and dispersed throughout the rest of his body. If given the choice, he would have chosen to remain there, in the cramped booth beside the beautiful boy as long as the higher powers were willing. Somehow, his head ended up unconsciously on the shoulder of the virile boy and Troy, contrary to what most would expect, paid this no mind.

Vaguely, Ryan mulled over the possibility of that there was more to Troy's feeling of freedom after calling it quits with Gabriella. Maybe Troy's image isn't as truthful as we think. Maybe the golden boy and god of East High is having second thoughts about the team he plays on… Maybe… I-

The clearing of a throat abruptly severed his train of thought. Looking over, both boys found their waiter, a thin, boyish faced brunette with frosted blond highlights standing at their table, pen at the ready with a very flushed face. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something."

"No, it's cool." Only Ryan could detect the irritation in Troy's otherwise nonchalant tone.

Staring at the nametag pinned to the male's blue polo, the blond theater boy made out the name Aiden.

"So what'll you guys have?" Aiden asked.

"Um…" Troy glanced back toward Ryan. "How does chocolate chip pancakes to share and orange juice sound?"

Realizing that once again Troy was choosing to share for the benefit of his companion and not himself, Ryan nodded. "Sounds good." He wasn't sure that his stomach would be so accommodating.

Aiden shifted his weight awkwardly. "Would you guys like some toast?"

"That'd be great, thanks." Troy gave a winning smile, making the waiter flush a darker shade of red.

The blond raised an eyebrow. Odd.

Jotting down the new items, the boy told them hurriedly, "Your order will be ready soon," and rushed off, nearly sending a girl with three plates balanced on one arm toppling to the floor, food and all.

Leaning in, Troy whispered, "What was that guy's malfunction?"

"I think he was a little confused," Ryan murmured back.

Troy blinked.

"Erm… you know… sexually," the theater boy added when the jock gave him a puzzled expression.

"Ah, yeah." Troy gave a nod, lazily draping an arm around Ryan's shoulders and giving him a smile. "I'd hate that."

Eyes widening, the actor stared at the jock in complete bewilderment. Something is not right here! Within his mind, it all began to make sense; the break-up between the primo couple, Troy's friendliness, his obviously flirtatious gestures and comments. For the first time in too long, an actual smile played on Ryan's lips. "I'd hate that too," he said quietly, snuggling into the golden boy's; dual-colored ¾ shirt where it stretched tight across his sculpted chest. His cheek pressed to Troy's torso, Ryan allowed himself to let his guard down and just for a moment, allowed himself to be immersed in the other worldly light the boy emitted.

When Aiden returned with their order, blushing uncontrollably, exchanging a look, Ryan cut off a piece of pancake and brought it to the mouth of a happily compliant Troy, whom, taking the silver utensil, delivered a spoonful to the blond's soft, ruby-lipped mouth. Ryan's tongue cleaned up the whipped cream on his upper lip, and taking the napkin, he cleaned Troy up as well.

For a moment, he would allow himself to be carefree, happy. For a moment, he would escape the outside world, reality, and let himself stay content in a bubble with the most perfect being on earth. Because he knew that when he opened his eyes, the fantasy, the dream, the salvation would fade… and reality would be the only thing left.