A/N: So this little ficlet has been sitting on my computer for almost 3 years now, and I'm not entirely sure why I feel the need to post it tonight, but, well, here it is. The inspiration comes from the song of the same title by Rascal Flatts. This is unbetaed, so any and all mistakes are my own.

It was abnormally chilly that October morning. In a city that boasts three hundred and ten days of sunshine a year and very little rain, the clouds were heavy, rain threatening to fall any moment just like the tears that filled so many eyes at the graveside service. Chad swiped his thumb under his nose as he sniffed, another attempt to keep him from crying while he surveyed the solemn crowd.

He figured the gathering would be small. Sure they'd all been friends in high school, but that had been more than a year ago. He didn't talk to most of these people anymore, he didn't figure Ryan had either. But they were all here. Various members of the drama club, who's names Chad had never learned, stood at one end. Their old baseball teammates huddled towards the back. Troy and Gabriella stood hand-in-hand on the other side of Taylor, who's arm was firmly around Chad's waist occasionally giving him a small supportive squeeze. His parents stood on his left, silent in their sympathy unable to fully grasp what had happened.

Chad had spoken to Ryan so many times in their time apart. Probably even more than he'd talked to Troy. Sure most of the times it was a quick email to brag about a good grade or an IM session about a Redhawk win or one of Ryan's many performances at Juilliard. And when Ryan had decided to spend his summer in New York instead of coming home, Chad had been the first to book a flight out to visit. Ryan would tell stories of the friends he'd made, the professors and instructors who had such high hopes for him. "People are going to remember me," he'd say. "They're gonna see my name."

Four days prior, Ryan was supposed to come home for a week long fall break. Chad had cleared his schedule to pick him up at the airport and take him home. He was a few minutes late, but went straight for baggage claim - where he'd always met his friend. When there was no site of him, he pulled out his cellphone, double checked the flight number, and looked at the arrivals board. The flight had been on time. He's in the bathroom, Chad had thought to himself and took a seat. Five minutes passed, then ten. Soon he realized he'd been sitting there a half hour and still not a sign of Ryan. He sent him a text asking where he was - no answer. Called him - no answer. Called Sharpay to see if he'd not heard about a flight change - not as far as she knew. Finally searched through his email on his phone and found Ryan's dorm phone number, a number he'd never used, still no answer. What the hell?

He would remember what happened next forever. His phone rang, Ryan's picture popping up on the screen. "Dude, where the hell are you?" he'd asked. The voice on the other end, however, wasn't Ryan. It was a voice Chad quickly remembered as Ryan's roommate. After a rushed giving of his name, he stammered over the words "he's dead." At that point, Chad dropped his phone, a wave of emotion spreading over his whole body. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do… something. It felt like an eternity before he decided to pick the phone back up, the boy on the other end mentioned something about medicine and a note… it didn't really register. He hung up, calling Sharpay first, followed quickly by his other friends.

The next day it hit the papers, a beautifully written obituary the Evans family had written up. It chronicled the success he had had and love that had surrounded him in his too short nineteen years. The note Ryan's roommate had mentioned was little more than a goodbye, a few specific words left for those closest to him, an apology to his family.

His family…that's where Chad last glanced as he scanned those in attendance. Mr. Evans with a strong arm around both his wife and his daughter. Mrs. Evans stared at the ground, a handkerchief seemingly glued to the corners of her eyes, the fabric already dark with cried-off mascara. And Sharpay - Sharpay was like he'd never seen her before. And in the past year, he'd seen many of the facets of Sharpay.

They'd found each other more or less alone and scared in freshman English at the U of A and quickly put the past behind them to become each other's new support system. There had been two a.m. study sessions; Friday nights so drunk they stumbled back into the dorms, unable to remember what had happened by morning; tubs of ice cream shared over Sharpay's heartaches; and a sympathetic shoulder with a supportive hug when Chad lost his grandmother early that year.

Shock, tears, and the look of being purely overwhelmed were to be expected, but this… this blank stare she had now, that she had had for the past days, Chad couldn't comprehend. She was void of emotion. Sharpay was nevervoid of emotion. As their eyes met and she saw his eyes welling with tears, she could only shake her head slightly before looking away, first to the coffin that had not yet been lowered then out past the preacher to the void of the cemetery. She'd lost her brother and yet there wasn't a single tear.

When the service ended, the crowds dispersing, Chad watched Sharpay stare solemnly at the headstone where her brother's name had been delicately carved along with the phrase "always in our spotlight." A small smile graced her features before she brought her hand to her lips, kissing it gently and pressing it to the cold stone. He watched her mouth the word 'goodbye' then turn to walk to her car, her head low.

The funeral had been on Tuesday, and by the following Monday it seemed everyone had moved on with their lives. They remained solemn about the event, but their lives had to go on. Taylor had left for Yale late Tuesday night, Troy and Gabi drove home the next morning. Over the weekend Sharpay had helped with East High's fall play - the performance dedicated to the "loss of a local legend." But Chad had nowhere to escape to.

His college dorm was a ten minute walk to the cemetery. Three minutes if he drove. He'd been there every day after class. He didn't say a word, didn't cry, just sat and thought. As if in Ryan's presence he could make sense of why his best friend had took his own life.

Monday, he didn't show up until late at night. The Redhawks had scrimmaged with a nearby school and after his amazing performance, coach put him on the starting line up for the season. He'd rushed to his room, skipping a locker room shower, and grabbed his laptop. Opening his instant messenger, he scanned the list of available contacts. Not seeing the name he wanted, he quickly popped open his email, jotting down his latest news before clicking in the "To:" box and starting to type. He got to the "A" in Evans before he even realized what he was doing. It was at that moment, cursor still blinking on the screen, that he grabbed his jacket and made the short walk down the road.

The ground was soft and a little cold, not that Chad noticed as he sat, back against the headstone. His elbow leaned against his propped up knee so his head could rest heavily in his hand. He stared blankly at the ground, they'd finally laid the grass over the grave. His fingers picked at the tips of the blades as tears once again, like every time he sat here, pricked at his eyes.

"Why?" he finally whispered, barely audible to even himself. "I could have helped you, talked to you, been to New York in five hours…" he trailed off and shook his head, wiping a tear that had fallen down his cheek. He'd sworn he wouldn't cry. Couldn't cry. He had to be strong where Ryan hadn't been, had to be happy. He sniffed and wiped his face again, calming himself before he stood, staring at the name carved in the stone. "Goodbye, Ryan," he said firmly, though the underlying feeling of a friend was clearly in his voice. With that he turned to leave, knowing he wouldn't be back anytime soon.