A/N: You know the drill. None of this belongs to me accept the plot, slash and Tryan haters beware… yadda yadda.
Chapter 25: Fracture
The two boys stood there, peering into each other's eyes. The conclusion of their rehearsal was met with a round of boisterous applause from their drama classmates.
"Bravo!" Ms. Darbus interjected.
Even with all of her envy toward the happy couple, a smile spread across Gabriella's face when she caught the eye of Allison Finch and the two of them shared a smile. Over the head of the younger girl, she could make out the figure of a lean brunette male who beckoned to her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan glimpsed movement from the dark-haired girl as she began edging away. Instantly, he knew something was amiss.
Troy stirred beside him. Concern emanated from him. He could sense it too. "What's the matter?"
"Gabriella's plotting something," Ryan replied. "And Chace is on it."
Following his lover's gaze, the blond could tell from the brunette's furrowed brows that the gears were turning. He was intent on doing something to prevent his ex from putting the relationship he had forged with the theater king who was still in the process of restoration in ruins. As always, Troy Bolton was hell bent on being the hero. Troy turned and his gaze stared imploringly into Ryan's.
Ryan stared back and they looked one another up and down, the petite blond searching for some method of dissuading his lover as he was wracked with a premonition that Fate had something unspeakably terrible in store. Don't, his sky blue eyes pleaded. I can't tolerate you getting hurt. Not for me. Not on my account.
Lifting a hand, Troy gently stroked the boy's porcelain cheek. "I'll be right back," he promised him. With a kiss on the cheek, he retracted himself, taking his warmth, his strength, and the sense of security he provided with him.
Wrought with despair, Ryan could only look on, hugging his arms about himself to ward off his beloved's absence. No physical contact could prohibit the thoughts that seeped in, tormenting him. He's going to be hurt. Shattered. Broken. And it will be all your fault…!
-Don't Let Me Drown—
Troy looked in at the storage area backstage. Chace Cooper stood there, leering back at him, his lips curled into a sneer. "Bolton."
Scowling, Troy fought to keep his voice even. "What do you want?" His gaze shifted to the shorter figure of his ex-girlfriend.
It was harder to stifle his anger when he found that she couldn't even meet his eyes and instead resorted to Sharpay's method of shamefully lowering her eyes to the floor. Girls couldn't look upon him when he was angry. They couldn't handle him. Removing his gaze from her, he instead looked to Chace, the one whom presumably held the power. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but leave Ryan and me out of it."
"Bolton," Chace chided. "When are you going to learn that you don't hold the world in the palm of your hand?"
"I never said I did." Troy's voice hardened, his ocean blue eyes glaring daggers.
The two brunette males commenced in staring one another down; blue boring into green. Troy regarded his opposition, assessing his capabilities. Although they were nearly equal in height, Chace was not as physically equipped. His fists clenching and unclenching, the golden boy wondered what it would feel like for his fist to make a connection with the other boy's jaw, his stomach. Would he crumple under the impact? Would he regret helping Gabriella spread those lies about me? About Ryan?
They circled one another; matching each other's steps in the ritualistic dance of the predator and its prey.
"These people think you're a god, Bolton. But you know what?" Chace's features contorted into a smirk twisted by rage and envy. He stepped in, invading Troy's personal space until there was a distance or mere centimeters between their faces. Troy tried not to flinch away from the closeness of his enemy, but even as his loathing began to grow, he thought to himself: Why is he jealous of me? Because I have Ryan? And if it's me he's after, why the fuck does he have to bring Ryan down as well?
"Even gods can be broken." Chace gave Troy a rough shove to add emphasis to his words.
Troy kept his arms firmly at his sides, unwilling to fight until given a greater justification than the personal attack. Give me a reason, asshole. Give me a reason to knock your lights out.
The next voice that spoke shocked him to the core.
"Chace, stop it!" Gabriella's girlish voice called out.
"What?" Caught off guard, Chace turned to the petite girl whom had been up until this moment, standing by, silently chewing her lower lip. "Gabby, I thought this was what you wanted!"
"It was," her voice broke as her pools of liquid brown brimmed with tears. "But I don't want to do this anymore! I want to be a good girl again."
The steely glint of Chace's green eyes was now redirected at Gabriella. "You make me go through all this trouble only to turn on me?"
Dumbfounded, Troy could only watch the confrontation as it played out, unable to feel anything for either of its participants.
"I'm sorry," Gabriella sobbed, "but I can't do this!"
Breaking away, Troy felt his back make contact with the wood of the shelving system. Above his head, a box perched precariously, teetering on the edge. Had he not been so caught up in the lover's quarrel, he might have taken notice of this.
"I've done everything for you!" Chace roared, his shoulders heaving as he advanced toward her.
"I'm sorry!" She continued to sob. "I can't!" A yelp escaped her as Chace violently seized her arm.
"You traitorous skank!"
"Let go!" She begged pitifully. "Please, let me go!"
He should have seen it coming. Had he been able to, he might have moved aside in time to evade it. Everyone has moments like that in life where they'll think back on a certain scenario and regret not saying or doing something when they were presented the opportunity. But Troy Bolton was no god and it all happened so fast. Dodging the bullet was an impossible feat.
It seemed as though his body went numb, numb to all of its surroundings. The world's audio track had been muted completely but for his blood pulsing in his ears. When Chace threw Gabriella into him, Troy felt nothing. And when the box full of stage props fell, the impact sending him and the girl he now despised to the ground, he was deadened to the sensation. When the sound returned, the first thing he heard was a scream; an agonized howl that seemed animalistic. He saw the box with his forearm disappearing beneath it. He took it all in; the manner in which the box was laying on its side, hammers and nails spilling out of it. The way his limb was twisted under its edge, the image a harbinger of devastation. His sense of touch returned to him then, electrifying pain shooting along his arm. Words, no matter how his subconscious struggled to form them, failed at adequately describing what he experienced. It was too surreal. Too mindboggling. Only after all this did he realize the scream was coming from his own mouth.
-Devastated-
"You and Troy were amazing today."
Ryan plastered on a forced smile at Kelsi's compliment. Although he had no doubts that the praise was genuine, he was wracked with anxiety ever since he and Troy had spotted Gabriella sneaking off to meet her boyfriend and the brunette athlete had taken off in pursuit. A duration of about five minutes had occurred since then. His ominous feeling that something unmentionably horrible was about to happen or already had happened returned full force. Guilt plagued him and he broke out in a cold sweat along his forehead. The image of Troy lying battered and broken backstage dominated his cerebrum. His fists clenched so tightly, his fingernails left indents on the skin of his palm. All of this remained somehow unseen by Kelsi. All but one thing.
"Ryan? Your face… you're so pale, you look like a ghost. Are you alright?"
And that's when they all heard the confirmation to the theater king's worst nightmare.
"AAAAAHHH!" A gut-wrenching scream of illicit agony filled the auditorium. From the depth of pitch it was easily determined that the vocal chords that produced the deeply perturbing sound belonged to a male. And not just any male for that matter.
Whispers of preponderance flew rapidly as the drama club members struggled to discern the cause of such commotion.
"Settle down!" Ms. Darbus ordered, her expression betraying her own underlying feelings of panic.
In light of the situation, to Ryan, the order sounded more like a plea. And the plea fell on deaf ears, at least in his case. His legs pulled him sprinting out through the double doors, which clapped shut behind him. His mind was in a fervor, issuing a series of pleas to somehow refute what couldn't possibly be happening. NO! No, no, no, no! Not now! Not ever! Not to Troy! He raced backstage and the sight that met his eyes made him stop dead, his joints locking into place as shock brought on a state of physical paralysis. His blood ran cold within his veins as if someone injected him with liquid nitrogen.
Gabriella lay on the floor, her ankle twisted beneath a large box. The very box that he himself had supervised the placement of the week prior while Alan and Joseph were charged with backstage duty due to a lack of volunteers from the scarce amount of violators of Ms. Darbus's "Zero Tolerance Cell Phone Policy". The girl let out a whimper, but that was not what caused him to wither and die internally.
But then again, simply dying would have been easy. If he died, he wouldn't have to see Troy, his love, the god of East High School in all of his divine beauty lying prone, his beautiful golden forearm twisted beneath the box. The damn, EVIL box. And if he died, he wouldn't feel the black wave of guilt, it weight amounting to tons immeasurable, closing over his head, consuming him, devouring him, but not killing him. To kill him would be an act of act of pity. Guilt had no pity as it claimed him. He was undeserving of it. He was just another nameless casualty. If he died, he wouldn't have to live with the undeniable truth. That this situation, all of it, was entirely and utterly his fault.
"Troy?" He herd Kelsi exclaim from somewhere behind him.
Jesse and Jeremy raced forward to assist the athlete, the god fallen-from heaven.
Allison and Cassidy, a dark-haired senior, ran to Gabriella's aid.
Ryan couldn't will himself to move forward. To come to Troy's assistance would involve touching him. If I touch him, I'll destroy him. My hands are soiled. Stained with his blood.
Ms. Darbus beckoned Chace to her, leveling his defiance with threats of calling security. After what had happened with Gabriella, he was much too dazed to put up any resistance and came quietly.
As Troy was righted, Ryan felt the boy's gaze on him, searching to reassure him that this was not his fault. That he would be all right. Ryan would not allow himself the alleviation that he would undoubtedly find there. I don't deserve it. I hurt you, Troy. He squinched his eyes shut, but the image was still there; Troy' arm with its beautiful golden flesh pinned beneath a box; tarnished with hideous bruises. I fucking broke you! His body lurched forward, wracked with sobs. With guilt. With self-animosity.
There was a gentle touch on his shoulder. "Ryan?"
He flinched away, not deeming himself worthy of contact from the god-like boy. Concern. I broke Troy. I don't deserve to live. In spite of the protests for him to wait, to stop, to come back, Ryan found himself running for the second time that day, and although he knew not what he ran away from, his final destination was set.
-Gone-
"Aaaagh!" Troy clung to his injured arm, his liability, as pain seized it mercilessly. The basketball fell out of his hand and bounced once before rolling across the gymnasium floor, ignored.
Chad ran to his friend's side. "Troy, come on man. With your arm all screwed, there's no way-"
"Troy."
Looking up, the younger Bolton met his father's eyes.
"Go sit this one out." Jack Bolton gave a nod toward the bench.
After spraining his shooting arm quite severely, losing Ryan, and on top of it, disappointing his team, his coach and his father during try outs, Troy was too drained to put up an argument. He dragged his weary form to the bench, his bushy-haired best friend hovering nearby just in case. Sinking onto the polished wood surface, he let out a groan of frustration. He simply couldn't shake the look on Ryan's face. His Ryan, his angel. The blond had looked completely shattered when he discovered the golden boy lying there, arm wrenched painfully beneath a box utilized for storage. His eyes were so dark, full of hatred toward himself. Void of light. Troy was haunted by the recollection of Ryan fleeing from him and the comfort he offered. "How could I have fucked up so badly?"
"It's not your fault," Chad assured him. "Gabriella and Chace were plotting this. They set you up, man. There isn't much you could have done."
Troy knew that Chad was just trying to be a good friend. Everyone was, giving him those looks of pity, letting him slide because he was unable to use his right hand. It was suffocating. He couldn't stand it. What about Ryan? Why isn't anyone worried about him? "I promised him that I wouldn't get hurt, Chad. I promised Ryan that I wouldn't get hurt. And right now, Ryan is somewhere alone, blaming himself for what happened! He's hating himself, Chad, because I couldn't keep my promise to him!" Troy slammed his uninjured hand down on the bench in an attempt to diminish the fire of his rage and all-consuming guilt. It was to no avail. "I'm so god damn stupid!"
His voice rose, drawing attention and distracting those immersed in firing dunk shots.
Troy, however, was unconcerned with how the hopefuls would perceive his outburst. And Chad prioritized the well being of his best friend, his brother as the brunette's body convulsed with scarcely audible sobs. He drew the boy in, wrapping an arm around his backside. "Troy, hey, calm down dude," the curly-haired boy murmured. Yes, it was awkward for him, but he and Troy had been as close as kindred since preschool. Seeing his compatriot in such an unstable state, he was able to push aside his feelings of discomfort and tend to the broken god.
Troy's chest heaved as he struggled to reel in his emotions. I'm being such a pussy about this! He acquitted with great disdain.
"You can fix this," Chad assured him.
"How?" Troy choked out, hating himself for being so pathetic, for causing Chad so much trouble.
"You're the captain." As always, his friend's voice was light, chipper, but at the same time, Chad was not babying him because he was an object of worship. He wasn't giving him false promises that everything was going to be okay. Empty words that lacked foundation. "You'll figure it out. But first thing's first, you've gotta find Ryan, and to do that," he could feel a smile break out on Chad's face, "you've got to stop crying."
In spite of himself, Troy almost laughed.
Chad looked around awkwardly at the now-gaping team hopefuls. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this one."
Although he was deeply touched at his friend's concern, the form that Troy leaned into was not pale, slender, decked out in bright colors and carrying the scent of strawberries and mist, and this only upset him further. His heart wrenched with an agony that his sprained arm could only dream of rendering on its host. Chad's not Ryan, he told himself miserably. A fracture had formed in the rock that held him and the theater king together mentally, physically, and spiritually. And if he did not act soon, the fracture would only grow until a canyon yawned between them, the space too great, too vast as to make crossing it near impossible. If I can't bridge the gap, he professed with ominous finality, I'll lose Ryan forever. And if I lose him, I will die.
A/N: Will Troy be able to save Ryan? Can what has been lost be restored? Found out in the next chapter.