Chapter Text
"Which goes better with my eyes, the lilac or the golden brown?" Ryan stood in front of his floor length mirror, holding two shirts up to his torso, shifting his hips as though laying them on himself at a different angle would help him picture the outfit better.
Sharpay, who was sitting on his bed across the room, scoffed and checked her nails for the 50th time. "Obviously the golden brown, but that shirt is polyester . What pants are you gonna wear with that?" When Ryan fumbled for a pair of slacks laying on his pants dresser, she shook her head. "Too formal. Do you want to bore him to death?"
"No," Ryan muttered. If he bored Chad to death tonight, he'd be down a boyfriend, which would be really unfortunate. Then who would smile at him like that? His shoulders drooped a bit as his mind started to wander.
"Right, exactly. So try on the lilac. Plus you've got the cute little baker boy hat to go with it."
Ryan snapped his fingers. Of course, the Maison Michel hat. The one with the silver chain. And he had just the pants and shoes to match, if only he could find a shoe buckle of the same metal. He set the shirt down carefully and pulled a few boxes from inside the closet. "Shar, could I borrow a silver ring? I don't think I have any that are right for this."
Sharpay huffed and flopped backwards on the bed, careful to smooth out the wrinkles in her pink and purple Armani skirt before relaxing. "You don't need my rings for your little date, wear your own shit for once." She only really swore at home, and it was oddly entertaining when she did.
"It's not just any date, remember? We're-"
"Celebrating your lasts or whatever. Got it. Got it the first twenty times as well." Chad had promised to take Ryan somewhere special tonight, and he wasn't entirely sure where they were going. But he had a good feeling why. He couldn't help but pout a bit when he sat on the floor to sort through a leather box of shoe buckles.
"I just want it to be special, I deserve that much. And so does he." Sharpay made a gagging noise.
"Fine, fine, you can have ONE ring. Left vanity, top middle drawer, lime green felt box. Bring the liner pen while you're at it." Ryan beamed at his sister before narrowing his pile down to three different buckles and hurrying off to her room. Obviously, she wasn't planning on getting up, but she'd at least extended the olive branch of doing his makeup.
Today at school had been a particularly sunny day between Ryan and his boyfriend. They kissed on the cheek between classes, ate lunch together in the practice rooms, and Chad had even joined Ryan on a brief snack run by way of baby blue Vespa. Though Ryan had felt comfortable with Chad's arms wrapped around his waist and his chin on his shoulder, a nervous twinge had made him tenser than he wanted to be.
When he returned with the jewelry and makeup, Sharpay sat up to paint his eyelids and tell him about her plans for moving to New York.
Finding a boyfriend in Albuquerque was hard enough, but finding a boyfriend as wild and bubbly and cute as Chad was a once in a lifetime thing. Everytime he caught that thousand watt smile or scrunched his hands into the back of one of those awfully corny t-shirts, he felt like he was winning the lottery, like everything was perfect. There was just one little thing that stopped him at this particular moment in time…
The doorbell yanked him out of his thoughts, and he did his best to regain his composure. Checking his appearance in the mirror one final time, he started down the hallway to the main foyer. These final few weeks of high school were a dreadful slog of uncertainty but, if nothing else, he was going to make sure he did it right.
Ryan pulled the door open and looked up to see his boyfriend standing on one foot while gripping a sideways bouquet of forget-me-nots and jasmine. "Hey," he said, his words getting lodged in his throat.
"Hi. You look. Ahhhhh, um. These are for you." Ryan laughed as Chad thrust his fist out, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.
"You look as well," he teased. Chad was wearing a soft, red, lace up v-neck which Ryan distinctly remembered buying for him. It was dressed up with a few beaded necklaces, his amber cord pendant, and a claw clip that held his afro back in a loose bun at the back of his head.
"I tried. Dunno about the fit but my hair looks amazing." He grinned and Ryan blushed, taking the flowers. He and Chad walked toward the kitchen so he could get a vase for them.
"So where are you planning on taking me tonight, Danforth?" Chad swooped in behind him and grabbed his hand, resting an arm on the counter.
"If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it." Ryan patted his hand gently, his attention already off his favorite flowers.
"You might have to kill me after that." Chad nodded sincerely.
"Oh, yeah, for sure, man. Six feet under. Davy Jones' Locker, the whole nine yards. Speaking of which." He twirled Ryan in a small circle before leading him back out the door. It was a damn good thing he'd started dancing. "Let me take you to the batting cages before you go."
Ryan's smile wavered for just a moment.
"Let's get through this date first before we skip on to the next one."
1)
In hindsight, Chad should have known that the sweaty gym locker room after a heated match wasn’t the most reliable place to talk about how attractive other guys were.
It had become pretty commonplace at this point, at least for him anyway. The others joined in from time to time, but Chad was best at compliments. He was a man's man. In a normal way. And he hadn’t noticed anything until it was pointed out after the last South game of their first season.
Troy was in the middle of commenting on their defensive skills when Jason butted in. “I really thought we were gonna get our asses handed to us for a sec, that one guy's hook shot was actually killing me. Number 29 I think."
There was a bit of arguing over what number the South player in question was. Chad remembered a particularly high jump that managed to get past their team's defense: a boy on the shorter side with neat, dark brown hair and a round face. He had long, thick eyelashes, a thick neck, and a sly smile.
"Oh yea, Carlos. I dunno how he jumps like that, the calf muscles on that guy are insane."
Chad bent over and stuffed his sweaty jersey into his backpack before swearing under his breath. He'd forgotten a spare shirt for after the game, and wasn't entirely in the mood to head back home shirtless. Albuquerque winters could get a bit cool at night. He stood up to ask for a spare shirt, and noticed that a few of the guys were looking at him.
"You remember his name?" Zeke asked tentatively. He was putting deodorant on with his back turned to Chad, but he glanced over his shoulder with a look he couldn't fully read.
"Yeah I guess, one of the other players said it a few times." He thought back to the last quarter of the game, remembering how the South captain had called Carlos' name before passing him the ball, how Chad had been guarding him, and how he'd gotten distracted as the other boy took the shot.
His shirt rode up on his stomach when he jumped.
"Why the hell were you looking at his legs," Jason blurted, earning him a slight nudge in the side from Troy.
"I wasn't looking," Chad said, stretching his arms over his chest and realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that in Carlos' case, that was a blatant lie. "I just, like, noticed. It's like how you notice Damien's fucking shoulders. They're just massive."
They were on a high school sports team, playing a contact sport with plenty of other muscley, sweaty guys their age. It was hard not to take note of how strong they were.
Chad looked up to see Troy staring at him. What was with all the weird looks today? "Who's Damien?" He rolled his eyes and clapped his best friend on the back.
"He's the West captain, the one with the crazy chest pass cause of his massive shoulders. Keep up, man." Chad grabbed his towel and asked one of the older team members for a spare shirt before hitting the showers.
The locker room was unusually quiet as his teammates moved in and out. They usually held afterparties after a successful home game, but today people were a bit slower than usual. Some of the South players had stuck around to shoot hoops, and the parents were still talking avidly about the game.
As Chad rinsed off, his mind wandered to the strange conversation he’d been subjected to earlier.
He’d never thought it unusual that he looked at the other players. He spent a lot of time working out and toning his muscles, it only made sense to appreciate other players for their hard work. Hard work that damn sure paid off, mind you. But he appreciated the biceps and back muscles of his fellow players as much as the next guy.
When he stepped out of the shower, toweling his hair off and struggling to pull a pair of jeans over his hips, the only people left in the locker room were Troy, Zeke, and Jason.
“I’m just gonna ask him,” Jason said over Zeke’s protests. He turned to Chad. “Dude, are you gay?”
Chad recoiled in confusion, nearly tripping over his pants. “What? Dude, no. Why would you say that?” He gripped his towel and watched his teammates fuss with each other, his eyes shifting back and forth through their incoherent argument. The way they talked made it seem like this wasn’t the first time they’d had a similar conversation.
“No hard feelings or anything, there’s nothing wrong with that. You just seem a bit gay is all.” Troy punched Jason on the shoulder lightly and told him to shut up.
“No, I’m not…” Chad trailed off. Had his teammates been thinking about this? His stomach clenched at the idea of them standing around the gym or whispering in the cafeteria about just how friendly he was with other boys at school.
“I like girls,” he finally managed. “Love girls, actually. It’s not gay to look at other guys. I’m just for the team, y’know?”
Apparently, his friends didn’t really know. Not the way he did.
Chad squirmed in his sneakers and checked his bag for his cord pendant necklace for the fifth time. He was pretty sure he’d left it at home, but it didn’t hurt to busy himself with something while his basketball teammates were discussing his sexuality behind his back.
“Okay, this is dumb,” Troy declared. “Team huddle. Everyone sit down.”
Troy wasn’t team captain just yet, since nepotism could only get him so far as an underclassman. But he already had the spirit of a team leader. Ever since elementary school, his best friend had had a habit of rallying people to whatever cause was on his mind, whether it was organizing a kickball game at recess or picking a movie for a sleepover.
His usual cheesy, lopsided grin was pressed into a thin lipped, concerned frown.
“What’s with the third degree today, y’all? Is this an interrogation?” He sat down awkwardly on the bench, not quite sure what to do with his hands. Troy, Zeke, and Jason sat across from him.
“No one’s trying to accuse you of anything,” Zeke started, sending a bit of a glare Jason’s way. “We just noticed you talk a lot about looking at guys on the other teams, and. Y’know. It’s important to, like, know who you are and stuff.”
Chad wrinkled his nose. Since when had all the jocks decided to hold group Goddamned therapy sessions?
“I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit. Troy was right, this is dumb.”
“No, man, this is serious,” Troy said firmly, and Chad locked eyes with his best friend and grew still. “Think about it. Playing sports doesn’t have to be the only part of your personality. And there’s nothing wrong with your feelings. It’s not something you can control, it’s just who you are.”
Chad looked down at his feet. When had his friend gotten so smart? Where was the guy who tripped on his own shoelaces because he couldn’t bother to tie them, the guy who sweet talked his way into copying off Laura Saldman’s History homework, the guy who only had his focus on basketball?
The guy sitting in front of him now seemed introspective and caring and so much more emotional than he’d been prepared for.
Chad wasn’t good at emotions. Usually, if he felt something really strong he'd just go shoot hoops to clear his mind and have something to do with his hands while he tried not to think.
“I mean,” he said, picking his words carefully. “It’s not like I think about dating any of the other guys. Well…”
He’d considered shooting hoops outside of school with a few of the boys he guarded, and if his mind wandered to getting lunch with one of them afterward it was most likely in a platonic way.
Plenty of people daydreamed about going to the movies with their friends and splitting a popcorn because it would be funny to bump hands in the bucket.
“Okay, it’s not like I want to kiss a guy or anything.” Troy raised his eyebrows at him, and Chad ducked his head, feeling his face heat up. Hopefully he wouldn’t pick now to bring up their old sleepovers.
“Plus, I don’t dress gay like that Evans kid or whatever.”
“There’s no one way to be gay,” Zeke said. “My older sister’s a lesbian, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her.”
Chad turned this over in his mind, the gears turning real fucking slowly. It wasn’t like he was homophobic. Far from it, in fact— he’d never been one to shy away from the occasional gay makeout in a TV show.
But the butterflies it gave him were just because it was unfamiliar, not because it was a bit too familiar.
“Do y’all not think about guys being attractive?” Jason shook his head, and Zeke mumbled something unrecognizable. “Troy, we talk about the pro guys all the time. You talk about Iverson and LeBron and all that, it’s not weird right?” Zeke and Jason turned their heads, and watched Troy’s confidence slip away.
“Well. Yeah. But.” Troy scratched the back of his neck, and his voice got quiet. “I also think… think I might like guys. So, yeah.” Once again, the room fell silent.
Chad’s eyes widened and his chest tightened. He wasn’t ready to add that context to the kiss they shared at that one seventh grade sleepover. That was. A conversation for another time.
“Right but you like girls. I like girls. Always have.” He shook his head furiously. This was all happening so fast.
“You can like both.” Chad looked up.
“What do you mean?” Troy and Zeke also turned their heads. It wasn’t often that their seemingly simple minded friend had something of substance to contribute. Usually he was up in his own world, his bright brown eyes only conveying the tiniest hint of thought.
“I mean you don’t have to be just straight or gay, you can like boys and girls, like a bit of both. It doesn’t have to be the same amount either, you can like girls a lot and guys just a bit, or the other way around.” Chad blinked at him, his heart rate speeding up drastically. “It’s bi… biceptu… bisexual. Yeah, bisexual.”
Bisexual. That one new word made Chad’s skin crawl and his brow furrow. He’d never really been comfortable thinking about himself and who he was, who he was supposed to be. It was always a bit blurry. He’d been in relationships with girls before, and it made him happy, but he’d never stopped to think why his 8th grade girlfriend felt distant every time he hung out with his old friend Parker, or why he got the same tingly feeling being paired with Hunter Spellman for a Chem experiment that he did when he was paired with Mindy Allison.
"But… but that's how… that's not… I can't…" Every turn of phrase and defense he found fell flat, and his attempt to act as though he wasn't fazed was just weak.
“Maybe that’s what I am,” Troy said. Chad scrambled for words, but couldn’t make anything meaningful pass his lips.
Suddenly, the sounds of chattering parents and athletes packing up their gear outside the locker room faded together into a dull ringing noise. As Chad took a deep breath, he let himself consider the possibility of holding hands with a boy, of sitting close to a boy behind the bleachers and letting their shoulders touch, of sneaking a kiss with a boy in the hallways between classes. He let himself imagine leaning his head on a boy’s shoulder at the movies, sharing a slice of pizza with a boy at the diner, and falling asleep on his couch with that boy in his arms. A blue jersey with the number 29 on the back flashed through his mind coupled with the idea of walking through the park in the fall surrounded by amber colored leaves, of holding hot chocolate in the winter and watching snowflakes stick to the windows, of kicking through sand in the summer and letting the sunlight warm their smiling faces. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach returned, but he started to feel comfortable, like he was in the right place for the first time in his life.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “I think… I think I’m bisexual.” Zeke patted him on the shoulder, and he put his head in his hands and swallowed thickly. “Shit, man. I think I like guys.”
“In that case you should probably talk to that hook shot guy you were talking about,” Jason chuckled. Troy started to scold Jason again, but Chad stood up quickly.
“I’m gonna go talk to him.”
His heart was racing and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but Jason’s comment had inspired him a ridiculous amount. Whatever impulsive decision making process he’d jump-started was running at lightspeed, fueled by anxiety and the idea of shooting hoops with the short South player with the impressive hook shot.
In hindsight, he probably should have known that this probably wasn’t a good idea either. But what the hell? Today was a day of firsts: the team's first win against South, the first time he'd started for a game, and his first time getting to know his sexuality. He might as well embrace it.
He dashed out of the locker rooms, pausing briefly to shape up his hair. His sneakers skidded across the hardwood gym floors, and he did his best to stay upright, tearing his focus from the strange looks he’d earned from some of the parents and other players. He cupped his hands around his mouth.
“ Carlos! ” he called a bit too loudly. The shorter boy, who was walking out with the rest of his teammates, gave him a confused look but set his bag down regardless. Chad crossed the gym quickly and met Carlos somewhere past the middle of the court.
“Hey,” he said softly. His voice was sweet and thick like honey and his chin was jutted out, a bit of friendly competition twinkling in his eyes.
“Hey,” Chad said, clearing his throat. Why did he sound so nervous? Well, there was an obvious answer to that, but now was certainly not the time to get cold feet. “Um.”
Think, Danforth, you’ve gotten this far. Man the fuck up and say something.
“Your hook shot today was really cool.” Chad mentally kicked himself for taking the easy route, but the other boy’s face softened.
“Oh, thanks. Takes a lot of practice, but it’s the easiest way to get around the tall players." His eyes widened and he clenched his fists at his sides. “Ah crap, don’t tell the other East guys I said that.” Carlos fidgeted and rubbed the side of his arm as Chad laughed.
“I won’t if you show me your jump technique,” he said, mentally forming a plan.
“Yea, sure thing. Should I stop by here after school or…” Chad shoved his hands in his pockets, and realized he didn’t have his phone on him. Shit, he’d have to leave it up to chance.
“Let me give you my phone number, and you can text me some time when you’re free. If you're interested.” Their eyes met, and some of the butterflies in Chad’s stomach subsided to that feeling of comfort that he was hoping he’d get used to.
“Sure, that sounds nice.”