I Tried Chapter 1, a high school musical fanfic

AN: This is my very first M-rated story, though it's not rated for sc, far from it actually. The reason it's M rated, as stated in the summary, is primarily for drug-related content. This will be a two-shot and could have a happy ending or a sad ending. I may do both and just make them alternative endings, I'm not totally sure yet, but I will have at least one ending posted sometime next week. Thanks if you review!

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM nor the song "I Tried" by Akon and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony.

I try so hard can't seem to get away from misery
Man I try so hard
Will always be a victim of these streets
It ain't my fault cause I...
Tried to get away but trouble follows me
And still I try so hard
Hoping one day you'll come and rescue me

Excitement buzzed through the gymnasium as the game was down to the final three seconds. They needed two more points to win. He made his way down the final stretch. As if in slow motion, he shot. For a split second, all was still and quiet until the ball went through the hoop. "East High has won the championships!"

That was six years ago. Then, he was barely in the prime of life at only seventeen. Now, he was a twenty-three year old man returning to his New York apartment after his last liquor run.

The man couldn't help but to laugh at the thought. Who would've thought Troy Bolton, an alcoholic who couldn't keep a job or home if his life depended on it, was once East High's MVP who led his team to a championship in high school? He chuckled at the irony as he returned to the cheap, musty, dirty New York apartment he was currently living in for this week. He was unable to drive after having his license suspended again two months ago for drunk driving. However, that didn't bother him. At least they never found the dope in his back pocket, he reminded himself.

Approaching his apartment, Troy picked up a note in the door. He groaned, knowing immediately what it was. He hadn't paid his rent in two months due to his inability to keep a job; he knew he would soon be evicted.

Throwing the note on the chair inside, he made his way to the refrigerator and placed the keg inside. Making his way to his room, he placed a small paper bag with the rest of his stash. Opening it, he smiled and grabbed his needle.

A few seconds later, after injecting the powdery substance into the needle, Troy yanked up his sleeve, revealing dozens of small bruises from his recent shoot-ups. Like a professional, he stuck the needle under his skin and let the chemicals enter his body.

Closing his eyes, Troy pulled it out and allowed the drug to give him its usual sensation. He couldn't remember ever feeling as great as he did when he was high. It was the best feeling in the world, well, second only to a woman's touch, he reminded himself.

After a few minutes, Troy made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands. For a moment, he looked in the mirror. He hadn't shaven in a few weeks and it showed; his normally shaggy-brown hair was getting even longer; his once pearly-white teeth were now yellow, a few appeared to be rotting; his once deep blue eyes looked as if they were made of glass; and his face was pale. However, none of that bothered him.

Appearance used to be of importance to him, but he was never one to obsess over how he looked. In high school, he was considered a stud and tried to keep up his appearance for the girls, one in particular. However, that was then.

Flashback

Fifteen-year-old Troy Bolton lie sprawled out on the couch as his mother rushed through the kitchen to make him soup. For nearly a week he had been stuck at home with pneumonia. He barely felt like moving, leading him to not showering for the week.

Suddenly, the door flung open to reveal his three best friends: Chad Danforth, Zeke Baylor and Jason Cross. Troy hadn't been expecting them, nor could he say he was pleased to have them there.

"Whoa! We thought you were sick not dying!" Chad teased upon seeing his un-bathed friend.

"Do you have dead rats laying around?" Jason also teased.

"Shut up guys…."

Troy chuckled at the memory. His old friends meant no harm; that was just them being themselves. They had been friends since Elementary school; he and Chad had been friends since preschool.

Sometimes, he wondered what became of the three. He heard Zeke had entered the catering business, and Chad had gotten married to his high school girlfriend, Taylor McKessie, but he hadn't heard much of anything else.

The four lost touch after graduation. They promised they would call, write, anything to stay together but it never happened. They had their own lives to lead which didn't involve each other anymore. It was for the best, he convinced himself.

Walking into the kitchen, Troy grabbed his last bottle of Jack Daniels, grabbed a bottle opener, and opened it with ease before swallowing a mouthful. He didn't really know what inspired him to start drinking. Maybe it was when his college roommate first offered it to him.

Flashback

Every night from September through December, nineteen-year-old Troy Bolton watched as Chris, his college friend and roommate, snuck back to their dorm long past curfew. How he did it, Troy was unaware. Why he did it, Troy wasn't sure he wanted to know.

One night, Troy watched from his bed as Chris staggered into their shared room. As always, it was long past curfew.

"What the hell are you doing this late every night?" Troy snapped, tired of his friend getting away with curfew violations.

"Relax. Don't get your panties in a knot." Chris laughed, apparently drunk as he stumbled into bed without changing.

"Just go to sleep," Troy told him, ignoring his comments.

"Try this, Troy," Chris told him, fumbling in his bag before finally pulling out a can of bud light.

"No," Troy refused, turning away.

Chris shrugged. "Your loss."

Troy snorted at the memory. He was such a wimp back then, he thought. He had refused to drink because his now ex-girlfriend's father died in a drunk driving accident. Out of respect for her, he had refused all of Chris's attempts following that night until their official break-up two months later.

Troy took another drink. Although it was over four years ago, their final break-up was still a sore part of his memory. Gabriella Montez was his first and only real love. They were steady through their final two years of high school, but when she announced she was attending UCLA while he would remain in Albuquerque, they mutually agreed to downgrade their relationship to "just friends" until she returned after she graduated from UCLA. They kept in touch most of their first year in college. She even came home to visit him over the holidays, but they both knew this arrangement wouldn't last. However, that didn't stop him from wanting them to progress in the relationship.

A few weeks before Valentine's Day, Troy had gone out and bought an engagement ring. When she came home for summer break, he planned to propose, even if they didn't get married until after graduation. He wanted to make sure she would remain his.

The inevitable happened on Valentine's Day, he recalled. He called her to wish her a happy Valentine's Day and to ask her to reconsider going steady again, to forget her hatred of long-distance relationships. He truly believed they could make it work. However, when he called, a gruff male voice answered the phone. When Gabriella got on, she clearly stated that his name was Mark and that he was her new boyfriend. Troy was stunned and didn't reply. Instead, he hung up, never to speak to her again.

Whatever became of the engagement ring? Troy sold it to a drug dealer to fuel his heroin addiction several months after he bought it. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore; it was a constant reminder of how foolish he had been. He was never worthy enough to call himself her husband, especially not now. What was he thinking?

No matter, he thought. He didn't need her; he had heroin and liquor to keep him satisfied now. He didn't need anyone; but why was he constantly yearning for her touch?

He didn't care after that. He got stone-drunk with Chris that night, but that one night, they were caught and suspended indefinitely. His father screamed at him, claiming Troy threw his life away just because he had a few beers. What college student didn't drink? He thought. It didn't matter, however. Before his suspension was up, he fled to New York, never to return home.

After a year of absence, Troy called the only person he thought cared: his mother. He figured she had the right to know where he was and if he was okay. She was worried sick about him and he felt guilty, for by then, he had started with heroine. He never told her, of course. He made it apparent he was doing fine when really he was falling apart. After that call, he tried quitting for the first time. He failed to do so and never tried to call her again, not even answering when she would call. Eventually, she stopped calling as well.

Troy shook it off. Deep down, he was scared. He tried to quit heroine after a police officer almost caught him with it. Even though it had only been a few months he was on it, he couldn't escape it. Every time he would lose another job or home it seemed to be calling his name and he was right back to it once again. Finally, after seven months of failed attempts at quitting, he stopped quitting and has been a heroin addict for the last three years straight.

Alcohol was his other problem. Alcohol may have been legal, but it was a money problem. With his day-to-day not knowing whether he would have a job or home, sometimes he would spend his last dollar on liquor or heroine. They kept his pain away, that was his logic. They were his only friends. He didn't care if they could kill him.