This is what happens when Louisa reads too many depressing slashes and watches Moulin Rouge amazing movie, by the way far too many times. I was in a half-emo mood when I wrote this, so we shall see how it turns out. Some parts I didn't know how to write it; I knew it in my brain but just couldn't put it on paper. Isn't it so annoying when that happens?

To my other readers:: I'm terribly sorry about not posting an update in so long, aack, I feel terrible! I've had kind of a writer's block, lately; well, not so much writer's block, I just didn't feel like writing. Plus I had a whole bunch of stuff going on, ergo, not a lot of time to type. But expect updates on Eastside Story and Sky Golden very soon [I have reached a writer's block for River Runners, haha, suggestions would be wonderful

Enjoy this lovely Tryan slash; my first ever story to tell entirely from Troy's perspective! Remember to R&R!

(Song: "Memory", from the soundtrack of Cats)

Memory

Another day at East High. Another day for each and every one of us to put on a mask. Every person's mask is their own; the "dramadie", the homophobe, the perfectionist, the jock, the science freak, the choir nerd, the band geek, the orchestra dork, the "wanna-be", the queen bee—the list goes on. My mask is a special one. I take on the mask of East High's golden boy who is perfect in every way possible, can get any girl I choose, and hate anything abnormal. Like queers, for instance. My job is to join my fellow gay-hating friends in their daily torturing of teenage boys who only like their same sex. I was never a passionate gay-hater myself, but it what we were doing never terribly bothered me. It was a standard procedure; almost like brushing your teeth in the morning. That was before the Evan twins moved to Albuquerque; before I met Ryan Evans.

Daylight
See the dew on the sunflower
And a rose that is fading
Roses whither away

I was running with my dogs in the neighborhood park when I saw the moving vans unloading. Curious, I slowed to a walk and trotted over to investigate. Almost at once I became self-conscious of my sweaty running garb and smelly dogs, and my sunny smile fell flat at the parents' upturned noses. The haughty adults introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Evans and their two children as fraternal twins, Ryan and Sharpay.

My first impression of Ryan was that he was very sad. When his eyes sparkled, it was like rain drops twinkling in the air the moment before they slam onto the hard ground. He was beautiful, though; there was no denying that. His porcelain skin was clear of any blemishes; his pale blue eyes surrounded by delicate eyelashes; his blonde hair falling naturally into place around his ears; his small, skinny frame held up by firm muscle; his graceful manner making every move he made seem to flow like clear mountain water down a riverbed. He was a crystal among mud and would have shone even brighter if not for the continual shadow that lay across his fair brow. Had his eyes not been so full of melancholy and grief, they would have beamed their owner's good-natured heart farther than east is from west. Ryan was a marvel to behold, but made your heart twist in sorrow of what had caused such a downfall from what he would be like happy.

When I stood next to him, I couldn't help but feel like we were at opposite sides of a looking glass, seeing everything from completely different perspectives. I had never met anyone like him, and I was avidly fascinated by him. Somehow, I wasn't surprised that he didn't say much. A nod, a small smile, a few one-word sentences; this was how we talked. But I began to love every second, every minute I spent with him that summer. I would purposely walk to my local park on evenings just with the hope to see him again---to talk to him again. As I did, the knowledge that I really did not know what the world was really grew more and more obvious.

Like the sunflower
I yearn to turn my face to the dawn
I am waiting for the day

How many times I have wished to go back to that blissful summer I spent with Ryan. For I truly did spend the entire summer with him; exchanging stories and points of view. I relished in every rare grin, and the even rare laugh which I earned for my persistent tries at a true friendship. As hot June turned to boiling July, our friendship grew stronger at an amazing rate. Before I knew what was happening, I was spilling my heart and soul into a boy I had met less than a month ago, and I was listening intently to his own confessions, doubts, and worries. The more I gave Ryan and the more of him I soaked in, the more I became convinced that our friendship was more than friendship. We never talked about our mounting feelings for each other, but small occurrences crept upon us unknowingly. The first incident happened when we were walking around the park as we always did, chatting about whatever blew across our minds. The sidewalk was small, and our arms bumped together; causing our fingers to brush. Unconsciously, without stopping the conversation, my fingers interlaced themselves with his. His hand immediately held mine tightly. We only broke apart when it was time for us to separate ways. From that day on, the moment we met up my hand reached out for his, and he would take it.

I never asked Ryan if he was straight, nor did he ask me, but we both somehow knew that the two of us were no longer interested in girls. The girl I had liked for the past few years was currently on vacation, and I did not think about her once the entire summer. Ryan had never mentioned girls other than his sister and mother in our lengthy conversations, and I had never asked. Neither of us asked questions when one late night, when we had adjourned from walking to sitting together on a street bench, I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and he rested his head on my chest. No questions were asked, but in my ecstasy I did not move a muscle for fear that it would end.

Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone

Now, as I look at the merry faces of all those who surround me, I can't help but wonder how they do it. How they survive each day with the awareness of what they are doing to those around them? It tortures me day and night, leaving me sleepless and hopelessly depressed with every breath I take. Such despair I had never known before I owned such truthfulness of our actions. Silence drives me crazy, but noise drives any remaining sanity from my mind. My own thoughts make me physically sick, and I am scared to be left alone with myself. I fear the nighttime almost as much as the day time. I fear my bedroom almost as much as I fear the school grounds. I have no where left to turn but myself, and even their nothing is left sacred. None of those who consider themselves to be my friend ask why I never smile, laugh, or crack a joke anymore. They only believe it is a passing hormonal phase; never who I really am. Their own masks deceive their minds, denying any evidence that masks can be untruthful. That their golden boy could be unhappy.

In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

I hate myself. If I were any other person than myself maybe I could forgive myself, but as that is sadly not the case, I cannot. Echoes of Ryan's screams of pain constantly fill my thoughts, causing it to be impossible to think of anything else than the fact that I had caused—cause—them. As my "best friends" hold down the most beautiful being on the earth, I throw my fists into him, my heart screaming as loudly as he is and shedding blood for every tear that falls down his graceful face. When my "friends" throw him against the wall and walk away cackling, I follow much more slowly, every step away from the weeping angel a knife in my chest.

If only I could tear up my mask and run back to Ryan, cradling him in my arms and running my hands through his hair, whispering words of comfort in his ear and hugging him hard enough to make the pain go away. If only I didn't love him so much. I've wished God knows how many times that I could hate him with a burning passion so neither of us would feel such pain, but I am incapable of anything other than loving him with my entire soul. I would much rather carve out my own heart for him than have to land another punch on his precious body.

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

All doubts about the realness of the way we felt that summer were wiped away in the middle of July. It was our first trip together to a place other than the local park, and we had decided to visit Six Flags. Being the daredevil king that I was, I eventually convinced Ryan to go on The Poltergeist with me; the fastest, wildest rollercoaster in the entire amusement park. Eyeing the metal "rats' nest" and clutching my hand for dear life, my terrified blonde sat down nervously in the seat next to me. I showed him how to buckle up as he trembled from head to toe with nerves for his first rollercoaster ride. Circulation left the hand that he held, but I kept stroking his hand with my finger, assuring him with broad smiles that it would be really fun; the beginning was the only scary part. His eyes squeezed tightly together, he just nodded and breathed in and out very heavily. Ryan was so adorable and helpless in his fright that I knew I needed to do something to make it easier.

Three cars before the assistant reached our car to slam the doors shut I leaned over and kissed Ryan soundly on the lips. Somehow, I knew the moment my lips met his that I had wanted to do this the moment I met him…and that he needed it. His mouth opened slightly, allowing me to deepen the kiss. I heard a few snorts of disgust behind us and even some "aww"s, but I could have cared less. As we broke apart, I was smiling broadly and when I opened my eyes, I saw for the first time the real Ryan. The cloud of sorrow was lifted from his eyes, and the happiness flowed from his smile directly into my heart, and we stayed smiling at each other like mindless idiots during the entire ride. I had always loved The Poltergeist, but my eyes never left Ryan's delighted face the length of the ride. We didn't say a word (even if we had wanted to we couldn't have heard one another) and we didn't speak for a good twenty minutes after the ride. We were content to soak in each other's presence as we walked around the crowded amusement park together, my arm firmly wrapped around his slender waist; both of us still beaming brighter than that July sun.

I would give up all of my basketball abilities and every last one of my meaningless, uncountable number of friends to experience that July afternoon one more time.

Every streetlamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning

My first thought at hearing that Ryan was coming to East High was a thought of overjoyed excitement. I would be able to spend every morning and several afternoons with my "boyfriend"; that was the best way I could put it. We were so beyond the stage of simple of teenage dating, but it was the simplest way to say it. Ryan and I had told no one about us, and I personally had not thought about breaking the news to anyone in the future. We had each other; why worry about the future? But reality smacked me across the head when I realized that my mask would not allow me as far as to hold hand with the boy I loved in the school hallways…or to invite him over to my house…or hang out with him at all. In fact, he was qualified under the list of the teenagers that we slammed against lockers and punched the lights out of.

That August, I did something I had never done before; I dreaded the first day of school. Not just the first, but every day after that. Ryan and I brought up school for the first time since he told me he was going to East High; and I told him for the first time about the mask I normally wore. He listened, his eyebrows furrowing worriedly.

"But Troy," he said slowly, considering every word he said (as he always did), "do we need to do what everybody else tells us? Is there a good reason why we can't ignore it?"

"It's the only mask I have ever known," I responded sadly. "I would feel lost wearing anything but it"

"Do you have to even wear a mask?" he asked as he slipped his hand into mine. "Try a day without it; and if you get too lost, just hold my hand—I'll guide you back"

How I wish I could have just taken his advice. But Ryan fell sick two weeks before school started, and my mind lulled me back into the safety of my mask by the time the first day of school rolled around.

Someone mutters
And the streetlamp gutters
And soon it will be morning

It was all too horrible to be true. The boy who I had considered to be my best friend immediately targeted Ryan as an easy hit, and all of the people I had considered to be my friends agreed full-heartedly. As the memory of my first kiss flashed before my eyes, I opened my mouth to defend him, but no sound came out. I bit my tongue so hard it bled profusely, fighting with myself to speak, but my vocal chords joined my mind in shutting my mouth shut.

I watched as if from an outsider's perspective as after first block my "best friend" knocked Ryan's books out of his hands, yelling words like "fag", "faggot", "queer", "cock-sucker", and other inappropriate names. If only he had known that I had committed the same so-called "crime" as the hurting youth at our feet.

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in

The fight with myself never ended after school began. My mind would tell my heart that this was all for the best, and that things were going to get better as long as I put the memory of Ryan and mine's love out of my mind and heart. But that was something I could—can—never, ever do; not in a million years.

I have contemplated suicide on several occasions, with only my mind there to stop me from the drastic action. My mind tells me I must never let my heart do my thinking for me, and that I will feel better the next day. But I know that there is no "next day". Night and day blend together into one giant, miserable mess; and I want none of it. I have no control over my own life, so why bother living it?

When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

There are a rare few nights when I think about what would happen if I ever did cast off my mask and take Ryan to be mine wherever, whenever. It hurts to even think about it, for I know somehow that it will never happen. It is impossible to toss aside something that has been…well…been me for as long as I have gone to school for. I never doubt my feelings for Ryan, but I also never doubt that we are forever lost to each other through the maze of the hating world.

Why must the earth be such a dreadful place; full of dreadful people that are full of dreadful thoughts about what they think is dreadful? The truth is, none of them really know. They are so focused on getting rid of something they think is "terrible" that they are blind to how corrupt their own hearts are.

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning

I get increasingly tired of the same, unchanging pain I experience every day. I can never take a break, for it never stops coming. Every day I cause the boy I love pain and hurt, so every day I must "reap what I sow". I am practically willing my mind to stop working, so that I will never have to go through the same cycle of thought again…and again…and again…and again.

The streetlamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning

Today is another day, I tell myself. Today is just another day, and nothing will change that. Another day at East High. Another day for each and every one of us to put on a mask…but this time, as I think so, Ryan's words flash across my brain. "…and if you get too lost, just hold my hand—I'll guide you back." Back to where, though?

Then it all clicks. Back to him…back to Ryan himself. Ryan is all I need. If I just give it all back to Ryan, then this nightmare will end. Such hope in my mind I have never known before. Such a ludicrous, crazy hope…but then…why was it crazy? What but the world and my mind made it crazy? Why not?

Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun

If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is

Suddenly, I decide that I don't care anymore. I tear my mask off and let it burst into a thousand pieces. It isn't worth it. Keeping on my mask isn't worth it. I run towards Ryan in the hallways, and his sorrowful eyes widen with slight surprise and fear for himself. Was I truly causing such a terrible emotion in such a heavenly being?

But I know; I know as I stare into his eyes that my mask is gone. I reach out for his hand, and he stares at it. The whole hallway seems to have stopped; time itself seems to have stopped as Ryan stares at my hand. And then…his gentle hand moves up from his side and laces his fingers into mine. I hear murmurs of confused, shocked peers from every side, but I don't give a damn anymore. Let them stare, let them judge, let them do whatever the hell they want to. Tears flow freely from my eyes, and I notice through the glaze that Ryan is smiling at me; we had won.

Still crying, I take the boy I love in my arms and press my lips hard against his; and our mouths envelope each other again. It is like greeting an old friend that you haven't seen for many moons…and, I suppose that's the way it really is. Ryan and I were really together now; we were able to love each other again with no boundaries.

I, Troy Bolton, am free to love someone with as much of my heart as I am able to. And by that, I mean not one inch of my heart is mine; I gave it all away…to Ryan Evans.

Look
A new day has begun

Well, what did you think? Too sappy? Not enough details at the last few parts? R&R, please! Louisa looovveeess reviews; especially honest and critical ones (: But don't be too mean, por favor, I wrote this in twenty minutes, haha