I really didn't think I would ring in the new year still writing this damn story, lol. But it only gets better from here, so I'll keep updating throughout 2010 (hopefully being done with it before June)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! LET'S NOT GO BACK TO SCHOOL!!!

Chapter 27 – Closed Distance

"Have you heard from him yet?"

"No, not since school. I'm starting to get worried."

Troy and Gabriella sat curled up on the Montez living room couch, completely tangled up in each other's comforting embrace. The soft patter of spring rain created the soundtrack for their romantic night together, dripping from the rooftop and trailing down the windows in some sort of rhythmic pattern. It created a strange type of music in Troy's head, replaying itself over and over while he ran his fingers through his lover's hair to express it. Her hands placed themselves in his lap, but her last intention was to turn him on. Physical relations were the last thought on her mind at the moment. Her brain was only stuffed with worry for one specific person.

"I don't get it," Gabriella moaned into his chest. "He gets a full scholarship to an amazing private school, goes straight into telling my mom about it, and then just starts acting like it was stolen away from him. Is he suddenly bipolar and not telling us about it or something?"

She felt Troy shrug against her cheek. He sighed before speaking into her hair. "Maybe he just needs a little time to himself. I mean, that was a lot to take in at once. He could be in shock."

Gabriella tilted her head upward and drew her eyebrows together. "He looked like he was about to bust out crying and then beat the living shit out of every Josh he saw in the hallway. That's our French teacher's name and Brandon broke his pencil in half trying not to get up and kill him."

Troy's eyebrow arched. "Maybe he just hates Josh's now, I don't know."

Gabriella huffed and pulled herself away from him. "Do you take this seriously at all? My twin brother—your best friend—is in a rut and you're treating it like a joke!"

"I'm sorry, but I say we wait for it to pass. His did say that he's got a bunch of work in Calculus; I'm guessing that he's just a little overwhelmed." He sat back in the couch again, crossing his arms. "And God knows that neither of us can help him with that…"

Gabriella's shoulders fell in semi-defeat as she leaned against her boyfriend again. "I hate when this happens…"

"Me too," Troy planted a lazy kiss on her forehead. "But he'll get over it, I know he will. He always does."

They continued through the night in the same silent, anxious state that they started in. Gabriella began biting her nails in a fearful manner and tapping her fingers against Troy's knee absentmindedly, trying to decipher what her brother's problem was. Troy kept trailing his fingers through her hair and running them down her cheek every once in a while thinking of nothing in particular. Of course he thought about what could be upsetting his best friend so much, but he stuck true to his word and tried to make up a countdown in his head for when Brandon would bounce back.

"What I want to know," Gabriella spoke up again. "Is why he's mad at everybody named Josh. Is he having some kind of relapse from that dance last year?"

Troy paused in his finger-combing, then started back up. "That would make sense except for the part where it's extremely random. What would set that off?"

"Or who would set it off. You think Greystone made some kind of contact with Brandon?"

"I don't see why or how because Josh never had his number. They were never friends or anything, so unless he got it from someone else, that wouldn't work. The only other thing I can think of is if Brandon had one of his slow moments and went to visit someone in prison."

Gabriella was confused again. "Who could he possibly want to visit in jail? He gets jumpy whenever we drive by the place."

"Like I said, it was a slow moment. He barely came out of his room yesterday; maybe he was making a new pen pal."

She growled again, pinching him on his strong bicep. "Are you ever going to be serious?"

Troy held his free hand up in a tired defeat and ignored the sharp pain that shot through his arm from her fingernails. "How else am I supposed to express my confusion? I spent all of my energy trying to get him to talk to me. When I stopped him in the hallway and tried to get him to look me in the eye, he looked like it was killing him from the inside out and took off down the hall."

Gabriella pursed her lips, somewhat glad that her boyfriend had put some honest effort into this conversation. "That's funny. He looked into my eyes perfectly fine. And I saw him staring at Amy in French."

"So he hates me now?"

"I don't think we should go to those extremes, Troy. If that were the case, he wouldn't have gotten into the car with you for school this morning."

Troy felt his muscles begin to relax from his only half-sarcastic question and sighed. "Maybe Izzy can help sort out whatever's got him pissed off. Those two put mind readers to shame."

Gabriella adjusted herself on his iron stomach and began fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, letting her fingers purposely graze his firm sides. Troy closed his eyes and shuddered. "I wouldn't be so sure about that one. Her mom called yours yesterday saying that Izzy wouldn't come out of her room either. When I tried telling Brandon, he looked the same way he did last year before he hit me. I think the only thing stopping him this time was his increased self-control."

Troy tried his best to block out the photographic memory images of his miracle dashing up to him on the bridge, soaked from her cheeks to the bottom of her shirt with fresh blood and tears. He couldn't let himself remember those pictures for more than a second every month or two. Any longer than that and he would steal back his forgiveness for Brandon and start a feud with him all over again. "That doesn't sound normal."

"I know. He didn't even let me get finish saying Isabelle's name."

"He didn't call to see what was wrong with her?"

Gabriella shook her head. "Not that I know of. He left his phone in the kitchen all day yesterday and put it back there after school today. I checked it and Izzy's tried to call him 38 times in less than an hour. I'm guessing he has yet to get back to her for a reason."

Troy stayed silent for a moment, piling this information to see which pieces fit together the best in this puzzling problem. Some of them went collectively a little too well in places nobody in the gang would want.

"He can't look into my eyes without dying inside—they match Izzy's perfectly. He didn't come out of his room, even for his precious phone to return all those calls. And he refuses to even hear her name?"

If it were any other girl but Isabelle, he thought, he wouldn't be surprised at the answer that he eventually came up with. Gabriella must have been thinking the exact same way to make them say it aloud in unison.

"They got into a fight."

"Son of a bitch…" Gabriella stared at the doorway absentmindedly with her eyes and mouth matching their span apart. "Troy, there's no way. They never fight!"

Troy seemed just as pitifully confused. "I know. It must have happened when he called her about the scholarship. How the hell can a fight break out from that?"

"She must have said something. He's the angry one and she seems to want to apologize. Still…"

"What could she have said? The worst I can think of is 'what'd you do, pay them to let you in?'. Plus, no matter how much she makes fun of him for something, Brandon never gets mad."

"Exactly. They have one of the most unique relationships I've ever seen. There's absolutely no anger between them."

A random light suddenly dawned in Troy's tired eyes and made him stop his air flow for a quick second. Before Gabriella could notice, he started back up again and shared his sensible thought with her. "Maybe that's a problem. A couple has to fight sometimes in order to function. A bunch of stuff could have built up between them and one of them just exploded. I'm betting my money on Sherlock for that last one."

Gabriella's head cocked to the side and for once, she didn't scold Troy on his sarcasm. This time it actually made sense. "You think so?" She tilted her head upward and stared into his soft eyes. They were darker from his drowsiness with light purple lines beginning to form under his lids. His shoulders were slumped and his hair was tussled from his habit of running his hands through it when he was getting sleepy. Still, Troy Bolton was the most beautiful man that she had ever seen in her entire life no matter what condition he was in. She would take her first and only love over a male model any day.

He nodded sluggishly. "Mhmm. If all they argue about is whether Three Days Grace or Simple Plan is better, that should've automatically told us that they were headed for trouble."

"So what do we do? We don't want one of them to give up and…" The next two words were caught in her throat as if her brain were telling her not to think such things. Brandon and Isabelle went together as well as a fish to water; they needed each other in order to survive. The relationship was like black with any other color: anything went and nobody complained. They would be together forever, everyone knew that. This was just a tiny glitch that all couples went through.

Troy sighed again, sinking further and further back into the couch. "I don't know about you, but I'm hoping to dream up a plan. Maybe the insides of my eyelids can tell me what to do."

Gabriella whined and fixed herself on his lap. "Troy Bolton, don't you dare leave me here by myself!"

His eyes were no longer open. No matter how much Gabriella pleaded for him to stay awake and help entertain the confusing and slightly painful thoughts going through her mind, she knew there was no point. Troy had already lost half of his consciousness. She was lucky if he even got her last words.

"It's just sleep, babe," He proved her wrong by replying. "I didn't get any last night."

"Why not?"

Troy shrugged. "Nightmares; blast from the past, if you wanna get specific. It was like a collage of bad memories."

"Which ones?"

He seemed to let out a combination of a chuckle and an annoyed groan. "The first fight between Brandon and I, Izzy almost getting raped by Josh, Brandon running away, Brandon getting shot…" Troy's voice was fading out and his head was falling even further back into the plush couch. Gabriella wasn't sure whether or not he was talking in his sleep.

"That's not good, Troy. Troy, wake up!" She nudged her boyfriend on the shoulder and his eyes slit open. The cerulean color was just bright enough to shine through his lids and cast a perceptible, brilliant glow through the darkness. The gleam was much brighter in Gabriella's eyes as it always was.

"Calm down, babe. You'll be fine for a few minutes."

"What makes you so sure I'll fall asleep, too?"

He had definitely lost a large percentage of his consciousness within those short few seconds. The gleam had disappeared behind his eyes' fleshy covers, leaving Gabriella with a strange, depressing sense of loss and slight abandonment. This was strange, considering the fact that she usually felt peaceful watching her lover in his innocent—and usually much-needed—slumber. Her frown deepened.

"Because," he nearly mouthed, "if you worry your pretty little head off, you won't be able to…"

And he was gone. Gabriella slumped back against the couch and crossed her arms, knowing that she would be unable to wake him back up. It was useless. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and tried to hold back the annoyance from his desertion, getting so lost in her task that she didn't hear the car engine cut off suddenly from the driveway. The front door slammed open and a familiar pair of footsteps thundered throughout the kitchen.

Gabriella didn't know whether or not to cringe back in slight fear or to jump up and run to who she knew was coming into the house. It was Tuesday, 6:00 in the evening. He was right on schedule. She didn't know why she was surprised.

"Hey, Brandon." Gabriella cautiously called, squeezing Troy's unconscious arm for moral support. "How was wor-"

She could've had all the support that she wanted, but nothing could reassure her after receiving the look that her twin brother was currently giving her. Brandon's eyes were flat black, identical stones buried deep within his sockets surrounded by miles and miles of ferocious fire. His muscular limbs were unusually stiff, much like Gabriella's suddenly dead airways and the black fabric that was covering his chest was rising and falling much too quickly for her taste. Only on multiple occasions did Brandon ever breathe that swiftly and none of them were good ones. Either he was preparing for a chronic breakdown or a major smack down.

Brandon's fingers were already coiled into menacing fists, but the second he viewed Troy's sleeping form in his sister's grasp, they tightened to an even paler, unhealthy white. Even though he was about ten feet away, Gabriella could plainly see this cause his entire body to begin trembling. If the devil himself was sitting beside Gabriella, he would've run away from the house in a heartbeat. No, she changed her views. This was the devil, possessing Brandon's body and filling him with all of this unnecessary hatred. That had to be the only reason for any of this. She wouldn't take any other excuse, but still descended further into the sofa.

And then, with his jaw locked firmly and nostrils flared like an enraged bull, he vanished. His feet took off up the stairs and not even a second after that his door rumbled the entire house with an alarming slam. Gabriella sighed sadly and let her head fall into her hands.

Whatever was troubling him and his girlfriend had to resolve itself soon or she had a feeling that things would just spiral out of control from there. But why should she worry? Again, it was that kind of thinking that would jinx the entire situation and cause extreme karma on the couple. That was the last thing that they seemed to need.

Brandon and Isabelle would work it out. Everything was going to be just fine.

--

Twenty-five groans of pain, annoyance, and mostly relief echoed off the walls of East High's huge gym when Brandon announced the ending of that day's practice. The team had hoped that after Monday's session of Hell, their captain would've gotten over whatever made him the new Hitler of them all. Honestly, what made him think that he could blow up at one wrong foot placement in a brand new routine that Coach Hilson unleashed on them? The moves were complicated enough; they didn't need any of this unneeded criticism coming from someone who wasn't performing them correctly either. Usually, Brandon would put his all into this activity, letting his soul tell him how to move his body and his heart to let go of his self-control and just get lost in the music. It was the biggest reasons that they had voted him captain after just one day of rejoining the team.

Now, the horrifying ghost of Robbie Keelson from the state championships had finally come back to haunt them. Brandon's hips moved way too sharply and his feet—normally light as feathers landing on clouds—stomped onto the wooden ground so hard no one was sure whether or not he had punctured holes in it. His anger blared louder to everyone than the sound system blasting directly in their ears. Darbus's class had to be more bearable than this torture and anytime someone resorted to that thought, they knew that they were in trouble.

The weary teens filed out of the gym trying to hold back their aggravated mumbles until Brandon was out of earshot. Once he was, the comments flew faster than their feet in trying to get out of that place.

"What's up his butt?"

"He wouldn't be the first guy I knew to get his friggin' period…"

"I can't believe he had the nerve to call me flatfooted and stiff! I'm stiff?! I can't be any stiffer than whoever's genital organ he's got shoved up his—"

"Give him a break, Christie," Mike sighed, running a hand through his dirty blond hair, "He's probably just been having some…issues lately. I don't want to judge anything in case something gets back to him."

"They can't be any worse than the issues I'll give him…"

Meanwhile, Brandon was keeping his place in their discreet plan and staying put in the gym. Even the alone time that he was begging for during the entire practice didn't seem to be enough to calm his still-hyperactive nerves. An entire weekend had passed since the misleading incident and unfortunately, Brandon's tension had just risen to the point that for the first time in over a year, he stamped to the gym, grabbed a pair of boxing gloves, and let the punching bag have it. It had been a while since he had to practice beating the life out of someone, but Brandon had more sense than his rage could ever understand. He hit a girl once; never in his natural born life would he allow himself to be so stupid and careless again. When Isabelle was brainless enough to show her face in Albuquerque again, he promised himself that he would try to control himself as much as he possibly could. But he had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to hold his razor-sharp tongue from unleashing enough anger to make her feel the ragged wound in his heart.

Isabelle would suffer from this. Brandon's only regret was her having Josh to lean on.

The familiar clatter of heels sounded through the hollow room and Brandon sighed, throwing his head back. He clenched his jaw and growled. "If that's Christie, I'm not re-showing you that move right now. Go home."

Instead of the smooth, sexy voice that belonged to Brandon's talented teammate, someone sweetly cleared their throat after halting their feet on the floor.

Brandon knew that students often hung around outside the gymnasium doors and watched the dancers perform their amazing routines. Some of them even came in packs of up to ten or twelve cheering them on.

But none of them, not even a ridiculous group, made his mouth drop as low as his private visitor just had.

Short black heels, blue jeans, and one of Brandon's grey Aeropostale hoodies complimented by undone blonde waves and a clean face never looked so beautiful. Most men wouldn't bother to look past the baggy, exhausted sapphire eyes that stared right back into all of Brandon's soul, but for a split second, he did. He always did every time this somehow broken angel came back into his sight—which wasn't supposed to be for another two weeks.

How could she be his angel after Saturday? How could she stand there, all innocent and holding her hands behind her back with a ghost of a relieved smile on her tempting lips…

Stop it, Brandon!

"What are you doing here?" Brandon noted how much the random voice that filled the crispy air sounded like his own. Her reply reminded him that it was in fact him spitting the phrase out.

Isabelle flinched at her boyfriend's tone, but she swallowed nervously before moving the hair out of her tired eyes and spoke up in a small murmur. "I…uh…had to talk to someone and you were-"

"Your back-up when you ran out of people to run to," Brandon rudely cut her off and shrugged. "Good to know." He shoved past her and grabbed his book bag from the bleachers, refusing to turn back around.

If Isabelle thought she was confused before, Brandon's reaction to her unannounced arrival stole the prize. She predicted to be in his arms by now, bonded to his lips with tears running down her pale skin. Nowhere in the plan was she to be standing there like a bumbling fool, blinking at the far wall. "No?" Isabelle turned around and finally sighed when she realized that he was still there. "Brandon, listen, something happened and I honestly think that you deserve to know."

Brandon clenched his teeth and zipped up his bag, still rejecting the fact that he had to settle the internal issues that led right back to her. "You don't have to explain anything. I already know what happened, so just leave it alone."

Isabelle's eyes brightened a bit as she knocked out a huge chunk of the plan she'd been concocting the entire time she was writing the emergency leave note to her mom and flying to New Mexico. Catching the cab took some effort, though, when she discovered the driver was a young brunette with a curt voice and beefy arms. Her phone's wallpaper, a clear shot of the couple locking lips during Spring Fling kept her from losing nerve within the memories of that horrific night two days ago.

"Oh, you do? Thank God, then that'll make this so much easier. Listen, I know that it must've given you some negative thoughts about us, but I just want you to know that all of it meant absolutely nothing to me. He obviously came onto me." The blonde felt stupid for pointing out that obvious quota. Rape usually consists of only one person willingly taking part. Of course Brick came onto her. What kind of idiot would think otherwise?

Brandon snapped around and crossed his immense arms. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Her share of confusion had long since run out. "What are you talking about?" She took a small step towards him, but he backed away quicker than the next words that fell from his mouth.

"Hmm," He sarcastically pondered the thought. "I don't know. Why don't you go as the guy you were fucking over the phone?!"

"Wha-"

"Did you get rid of him…good, now say my name…say it!"

Brick's slightly higher voice squeaked between her ears, sharing a space in her memory for Josh's face. Josh…Isabelle's mistaken moans of fear…

Holy mother Mary…

"Oh my God," she gasped in a whisper. "Oh my God, no! No, no, no, Brandon, listen to me! I wasn't-"

He wasn't having any of it. "Just grow up and admit it! You were bored and lonely, so you decided to have a little fun and screw some guy who—by the way—wasn't your boyfriend! Are you really that ignorant and stupid? You thought it'd be cool if you played with my head then run off?!"

He was less than a foot away from her face now, his fists clenched at his side and his chest pumping oxygen faster than her worry was falling through her system. Ignoring his sweet breath being blown into her nose, she squealed. "I was raped, Brandon!!! I was violated! Someone snuck into my house and took advantage of me! You think I would cheat on you after all we've been through?!"

Brandon's dance instincts took effect right then, sliding his feet back far enough for him to throw his wide arms in the air and not smack her in the face. "We've been through nothing, Isabelle! Just a little distance, that's it! It's not the end of the world! All the action that's happening is right here, in Albuquerque! You live in California where you're safe and free to do whatever and whoever your little heart desires!"

"Brandon, stop and listen to me!" Isabelle was desperate now, grabbing his arm and digging her nails into his smooth skin. She knew he would make a huge effort to get her off of him, which she wasn't letting happen. "I would never do anything to hurt you! I love you!"

Too bad his rage gave him enough physical strength to disregard the sparks flying through his body from her contact and violently rip her hand off of his arm. He felt as if the patch of skin that she had just touched would burn off his bones as he hissed. "You don't know what love is! It's not just a few hugs and kisses; it's a true feeling that you get the second you look at someone! I gave you every single speck of myself to you, hell, I gave you my virginity! That's not just something that you give away to a random person!"

"I know! You were my first time, too!"

Brandon's voice was calmer now, quieter, despite the vibration resonating through his muscular neck. He subconsciously transferred his hatred into his piercing eyes. Isabelle backed away slowly. "For some reason, I'm finding that very hard to believe. But I'm actually telling the truth and you were the very first person that I've ever touched like that! Do you know why I had sex with you before marriage?"

The distinct, familiar sense of defeat was hanging in front of Isabelle's eyes. She shrugged and let the tears dictate her eyes and voice. "Because you love me enough…"

"Exactly!" He advanced on her again. "Isabelle, I'm the first guy in my family to do that! I was skeptical because I didn't want to break the tradition in my family, but I thought that we were actually going to have a future together. My dad lost his virginity to my mom on their honeymoon, my grandpa lost it to my grandma, my great-grandpa and grandma and so on for three more generations! Gabby and I are the first ever, do you know how that feels? That's why I'm trying to hide it from my mom, because she'd didn't want me to give myself away to some little whore who just wanted me as a one-night stand!"

The word 'whore' slashed at her heart more than anything, but Isabelle tried her very best to ignore it and push her point further. Why wouldn't he believe the obvious truth that Brick was the one behind all of this? "Brandon, why don't you believe me?!" She was desperate again. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't have wasted all my money on plant tickets to come and see you once a month just for two days! I would've shut up to Brooke already about you! I wouldn't have printed out half of your Facebook pictures and hung them in my room, my locker, and my closet! Come on, Brandon! You're the only one and nothing, no one, will ever change that! What about our promise rings?" She held up her left ring finger to show off her damaged, but still-shining ring.

But just as Isabelle was about to smile when she saw his left arm move up, the slight happiness was stolen from her when he brought his idea into focus. His finger, previously dressed with a sparkling silver promise ring, now sported a pale line running around the bottom perimeter of it. The ring was gone. "What about them?"

He might as well have grabbed her by the throat and strangled the life from her weak body. She actually started praying for something like that to happen; maybe it would snap her back into two and a half days ago when she felt as though nothing could pull her from bliss and breathe again. Who cares about oxygen? If what Isabelle suddenly saw coming was about to happen, she didn't want it. Life was pointless after today.

"Brandon…" Isabelle attempted to choke out, but the word came out in broken pieces, matching her now crumbling heart.

Brandon sneered without hesitation. "My name has never sounded so ugly."

"Brandon, I'm sorry!" she wailed, feeling the tears hit her bare toes over and over again. A few landed on her unstable knees as well.

Isabelle eventually gathered the meager strength to look up and lose her breath again when Brandon's black, foreign marbles automatically met hers. The natural pull that always managed to find them, even when they weren't together, came to play one last time to act as a magnet. Brandon's eyes worked as Isabelle's personal TV and replayed every single amazing moment that the couple had shared during their relationship. Even when they were just friends for a week before saying those three magical words, she remembered it all. Every word, every touch, every breath that they both put into the resilient bond was thrust back onto her shoulders and crushing her before anything was completely official in words.

"No," He managed to cut her off again in a disappointed whisper. "Isabelle, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I ever trusted you to help me carry this long distance relationship on our shoulders only to let it fall and break like this."

Just as she thought. This had happened too many times before to fool her into fantasy. No matter how much she wanted to be in that place of heaven and perfection, where nothing was ever wrong with them, she couldn't go back there again. Getting kicked out back into reality would only make it hurt that much more. It would probably kill her faster.

"Please. Please, d-don't do this…" She lurched forward, searching for any part of him to stabilize her through her blurry eyes, but he stepped back.

"Too late. We're over, Isabelle. I'm done."

Brandon didn't stick around to watch her fall to her hands and knees, silent and void of all emotion except disbelief. The breath was like Velcro against her throat and—thanks to prior knowledge—she knew that not hearing her heart beat in her chest wasn't good. The still air suddenly turned to hail and sliced the goose bumps right off of her skin. Her fingers curled around themselves, shaking violently, and dug into her palm. Isabelle couldn't feel the blood trickling onto the wooden floor. She couldn't even feel the walls shiver from Brandon slamming the door behind him, locking out whatever remaining concern he had left in him for her.

He had no idea how long he stood outside those doors, listening for any sign that Isabelle was still alive after that blow. Brandon didn't let himself give a sigh of relief when her wrecked sobs reached his ears. They were muffled, hidden behind her knees he bet. His teeth clenched along with his fists to keep from turning around to look through the window. He couldn't be weak. She was weak, that much was obvious. She was always weak. Hopefully, none of it had rubbed off on him during the course of their relationship.

It had to have been at least forty-five minutes that he lingered in the building after tearing her down. His car was the only one left in the student parking lot when he walked out. Again, Brandon blocked out the questions about how she was going to get anywhere. There was no way she would go back to Troy's. She probably couldn't pass the Montez house without having some kind of breakdown. It didn't give him the comfort that he was looking for to not care.

Maybe comfort wasn't what he needed right now. It wasn't what he deserved. What he needed was a way out, a way to forget the rest of the regrets pouring into his conscious. Hopefully, one of his pissed-off friends could help him.

Brandon ripped his sharp keys out of his pocket and quickly boarded the car, not noticing the thin trail of blood that he left along the steering wheel—or the small cuts in his left pointer and middle fingers.

How many people caught the last bit of foreshadowing in that last sentence? And during Troy's description of his nightmares? Next chapters are gonna be good ones...

REVIEW!!! Thnx :)

~Rachel :)