A/N: It just got real.

Chapter 27: Frenzy

Troy pressed his foot to the accelerator, watching the signs reminding him of the legal speed limit flying by as white blurs past his window. He could care less about the tickets he would undoubtedly be receiving for his violation of the law. That was the farthest thing from his mind. No. As he pulled up in front of the Evans mansion, the only thing on his mind was Ryan. I have to find Ryan. I have to save him from himself! He ran up the stairs, a man possessed, to find Sharpay in his angel's bedroom, tears streaming down her face. She sat on the floor, the picture of despair. And he knew that the ugly truth had at last sank in. Although he was quite rattled to see Sharpay Evans who was so together, so unbreakable in a state of such distress, Troy wasted no time. "Where is Ryan?" He inquired.

"He left!" The female Evans choked out. She had fallen from glory and nothing was there to cushion her plummet.

The brunette could feel his panic levels rising. That was not what he wanted to hear. "Where did he-?" He began.

"Troy, you have to find him!" Sharpay sobbed. "Don't let him make the biggest mistake of his life! Please! We need him here! I need him! He-!" She broke off, losing her eloquence as a fresh wave of sobbing stole over her.

Troy's expression hardened. He was aware of his responsibility. There was no room to mess this up. There would be no second chances if he screwed this up. But he had hope. At least when he found Ryan, he would not be going to him empty handed. No longer would he give the boy false promises of a utopia. No. But he could at least let him know that things would be different. That Sharpay needed him. That she would welcome him back with open arms. When he found him, he would shower his ryan with kisses. He would kiss him senseless. He'd make love to him deeply, holding nothing back, telling him over and over how much he loved him, needed him, would die without him and the they would fall asleep, Troy holding his Ryan in his arms, not letting him go for any power in the universe. When he found him.

Troy did not consider If.

There was no room for If.

-Save Me-

Out of breath, Ryan dragged himself down the trail of gravel, limping with exhaustion. He had been pulled here by an unseen force. Here. to the park. His legs quaking, he stood by the lakeshore, the memories it had for him taking front and center in the central lobe of his brain.

He could hear Troy now as clearly as if he were there in person. "This is the perfect rock-skipping specimen."

And then, his own voice, light, carefree, speaking from a happier time. "Smooth, right?"

"Perfecctly smooth."

He smiled sadly to himself. The memory was there; engrained in the rocks and soil, whispering through the trees, reflected on the lake surface. The blond could almost feel the brunette behind him now, his strong upper body pressed against his backside, Troy's muscled arm guiding his lean arm back in order to ensure that he mastered the "perfect rock-skipping technique'.

Another memory replaced it.

"Don't be my hero," he could hear himself saying. "I'll never forgive myself if you get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," Troy promised him.

The words impacted him, the pain of a thousand knives plunging into his chest seized him. "But you did!" He cried out. "You did! And it's all my fault…" His voice broke, the outcry receding to a whimper. "It's all my fault!" His legs betrayed him and Ryan slumped to the ground in utmost defeat. "I can't fight. I can't go on anymore. I don't deserve to go on living….!" The boy's hands closed about an object. Peering at it, he found a rock sitting in his palm. Overcome, he pitched the stone, flinging it from his grasp and into the frigid lake, shattering the still surface.

He looked on in wonder as it sank quickly into the depths without a struggle. The peaceful demise of the stone seemed almost beautiful to him. and then he knew what he must do. He removed the fedora from his head and lay it tenderly down on the shore out of reach of hungrily lapping fingers. Forcing himself upright, he slid out of his shoes. It had cost his mother one hundred seventy five dollars to import them from France. I'm not worth one hindered seventy five dollars. At least when I die, mom and dad can make compensation money off of my belongings.

A/N: I know, I'm evil. Reviews, anyone?