Wow. This is by far my most unpopular story ever. Not even Not Quite Sure has reached this low. Hmmmm...

Ending. Yep. And Warning ahead: Not a very happy one.

This song? Almost completely irrelevant, except for the part where it is. You'll have to listen to it to get where the lyrics fall.

Disclaimer: Nope. Still not.

He swam steadily for most of the day.
Suddenly he found himself approaching an enormous floating cavern.
Could it be an island?
Pinocchio looked closer and he saw two huge rows of sharp,
yellow teeth and he realized his mistake.

They're standing. Apart. And not angry, and not in love. As such. They're not having a movie-scene heart-to-heart that marks these sort of standing-aparts.

They're just standing, simply because it's easier than sitting on the concrete outside the theater.

And he wants to say something. He wants to tell her that he loves her. But he won't. Because it's gone. It's over and gone, and no matter how many times he says it, she won't return it the same way she has even a week ago.

Because it's real now. It's real. Graduation practice is in an hour, and it's real now that they'll go to different parts of the country, and he suddenly can't bring himself to do anything about it. He can't even thank her for the countless times she has saved him from Taylor's anger, only to let him go back to his real girlfriend a few days later.

He wants to say something poetic, but he can't, which is strange because he, Chad Danforth, can always come up with something to say to a girl.

So he would sulk and drink and mope
and cross his arms and hope to die.
And then a fairy came one night
to bring this sorry boy to life.
She pulled some strings
and spun him about.
That boy sprang up
and began to shout,

But there's nothing he can say here that's more romantic than anything she's already seen on a stage. He can't say anything like "You brought me alive," even though he does, stupidly, and she glares at him.

"Don't lie," she hisses. "Don't you dare lie. I don't know what I was thinking last year, starting this stupid thing with you, but I was not expecting a sappy attempt at love poetry a week before graduation."

"Sharpay, I'm—"

"Why are we even out here, Danforth? Why? What could you possibly have to say to me now?"

"Because..." Sharpay huffs.

"That's what I thought." She turns, almost heartbreakingly slow, and stalks back into the theater.

"My arms, my legs, my heart, my face they are alive!"
And she would cry, "Liar, liar!
What have I done?
You're no lover, and I'm no fighter."

"Sharpay! Sharpay!" Chad leans against the prickly stucco wall and breathes out, angry.

He wants to break up with Taylor. Really. Seriously. But no, not really, and she knows that, and it's amazing that he can still think straight. It's like Bolton and his stupid musicale.

Taylor's a good person. A nice, caring awesome person who would barely touch a beer, much less go to a party with him. She's innocent and pure. And she loves him.

And Sharpay's...Sharpay is wild. She's insane, she could probably beat him up and still look great for the party, and she's funny, in a crazy, perpetually angry kind of way, and she's nice. Really, honestly, when she's tired and a bit sad, she's nice. And...well, he thinks she loves him.

And when Sharpay is sad, he kisses her and tells her stories, funny stories, stories about Bolton and the rest of the basketball team that she despises, and she doesn't laugh, not really, unless something horrible happens to one of the players, but she's happy. Maybe. He's pretty sure that she is.

But Taylor buries herself in a book, or works in the lab, and he gives her some space, because he loves her, he's sure, and he doesn't know enough about what she's doing to help out, and it's almost amazing that he's put up with it this long. Put up with being stupid around her. But then, it's not really amazing, after all.

He knows he's not really sure about anything.

(The story goes on)

"What?" Sharpay asks the next day, having been dragged out again before practice.

"I just wanted to talk. We can still talk, can't we?"

So he would buy her things and kiss her hair
to show he was for real.
And she would take those gifts and kisses
though just stringing him along.
She knew about those wooden boys-
it's an empty love to fill the void.
"Pinocchio! Oh boy, how your nose has grown!"
So he would cry, "Liar, liar!
I'll prove it to you!"
But then it grew
He had grown tired of her
So it was true

He holds up a chain, a silver chain, and instead of squealing with delight like he's sure she will, she simply ignores it. "Danforth. Stop it."

"Shar—"

"Shut up. You're going to get tired of me. I'm going to get tired of you. Because no matter what we do, it's always going to come to this, this...this stupidity. This arguing. And I really don't want to end my high school with a flaming row."

"But—"

"You don't love me. I don't love you. You're not even in love with Taylor, although you think you are, and I'm sure that, if you two work at it, you'll get married and have lots of curly-haired tots who are smart and can play basketball. Passably."

"Shar—"

"Now, I'm going to go back inside. And we're not going to talk. Ever. Again. Do you understand me?" She doesn't wait for a reply.

He left her apartment
And he walked all night long
'til he was stopped by the shore of the ocean.
But still he walked on, amongst the whales
and the waves, and screamed
"Liar, liar!"
And his wooden body floated away.
He just drifted away.

And so graduation comes to pass, and he doesn't see much of her, and then the reception, with the bad music and the cheese cubes on toothpicks, consists of making rounds with Taylor and promising to keep in touch with every single person in the school.

And the one person he wants to see makes a point not to talk.

And he's numb afterwards, painfully numb, a paradox, he realizes after he thinks it, and then he realizes it's a word he has picked up from Sharpay.

And he wonders, really, how they have managed to get here without killing each other.

He wonders if she's thinking about him the same way he's thinking about her.

He wonders if, in ten years, they'll even remember each other. Which is stupid; of course they will. High school is the greatest four years of your lives, the adults always say.

He wonders if he should feel torn. Because Sharpay wouldn't feel torn. Sharpay thinks that feeling torn is a waste of time that could be spent rehearsing...or something. And really, it is about him and Sharpay, and if he feels torn about her, then obviously...

Well, obviously what? It's over now. It's gone. It's just Taylor now. Just sweet, awesome, nice, beautiful Taylor who is ten thousand times smarter than he is and doesn't really know that she shows it off all the time.

At around three in the morning, he's still sitting up, waiting for something to happen. In the back of his mind, he knows that he's waiting for Sharpay to come over, but he knows she won't. He knows she's not that stupid.

And suddenly he hates her for making him feel this way, hates her for making him so guilty, for cheating on Taylor, and he grips that silver necklace that's been sitting on his desk, tightly, tightly between his fingers until it leaves red marks that don't fade in a few minutes.

And now he hates her.

Hate, which is the opposite of love.

And just as attractive.

And now I wonder how I was made...
my arms, my legs, my heart, my face,
my name is Driftwood.

I realize that Chad probably isn't this intellectual, but come on. He just got stomped on by Sharpay!

I love this song. "Driftwood: A Fairytale"? Cursive is genius. Pinocchio rip-offs have never been better.

Anyway. Yes, that's the end, and unfortunately, I have no plans on writing any more of these in this series, or in general, because songfics are, and always will be, a PAIN.

But. You should still review.