The Blue Fedora

By Carnifax
High School Musical
Chad/Ryan
Rated T
Romance/General
Even in the 90-degree heat, Chad felt ice coat his veins in panic and horror and guilt at his own voyeurism, because the body of Ryan Evans plastered against some older man was absolutely not something he should be seeing.

It was the last day of summer break, a balmy Tuesday in late August, and Chad Danforth was in the one place he thought he'd never return to—Lava Springs. But he wasn't there for work, and he definitely wasn't there with the team. If the team knew whose hat he had kept for the past three months, they would've ostracized him from the game.

It was that hat, the black-and-white striped racing poorboy, that he was currently staring down at as he strode into the Lava Springs lobby. Chad had meant to return it earlier—he really had—but things kept coming up.

He could've just tossed the thing, Ryan probably had three more of the same kind in his closet… but since he established a tentative friendship with the choreographer, it felt like the worst kind of insult. Hats were just as important as breathing and music to the blonde, and throwing one away was probably blasphemous. Even when the team crashed in his room after a July fourth party, Chad only buried it in the back of a linens closet.

Luckily, no one had noticed the loss of his own baseball cap. That hat, plus Chad's beloved jersey, was in Evans' hands, and he really didn't mind. A year ago, Chad would never have surrendered the prized outfit to anyone, let alone a theater geek, but now things were different. He was singing and dancing, Ryan Evans was playing—and being awesome at—baseball…

But a close call the previous Sunday had changed his mind. Troy came over on a whim after lunch, appearing with a grin outside Chad's bedroom door, and he only just had enough time to hide the hat. Even Troy, with his naive spirit and benevolent "we're all just people" attitude, wouldn't understand why Chad had kept Evans' hat.

And so he decided to return it. He wouldn't say anything about the hat and jacket, but he needed to be rid of Ryan's hat before a teammate spotted it, and made a huge deal of it. He didn't need the school to be filled with rumors, not with classes just beginning.

Mr. Fulton was at the desk when he reached it, looking reproachfully at the teen. "Mr. Danforth, can I help you? I believe you and your fellow staff quit last week. Was I mistaken?"

Chad shook his head. "I'm looking for Evans—for Ryan? Someone told me he'd be here."

The man squinted, tipped his head to the side. "I believe I saw him walking toward the yoga room, yes, but that was at least half an hour ago." The phone rang, calling his attention, and so he waved Chad away. "Good luck on your search, Mr. Danforth."

The indoor recreation rooms were across the pool and past the ballrooms, where he and team had been forced to serve many dinners. He gave a shudder when he passed the kitchens, and then froze when he heard a noise.

It was like someone was talking in a very quiet whisper. But as Chad moved a little closer, a thought occured to him and he snickered, a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. As uptight as the resort was, he felt shocked that anyone could find the time—or privacy—to have a secret makeout session. But that was clearly where the noises were coming from, emanating through the yoga room's walls.

Chad crept up to the doorframe, his search for Ryan put on hold. He hoped it was Sharpay—getting a cellphone pic of the huffy queen bee, mid-booty call, was too tempting to decline.

There was a long mirror that covered one entire wall of the room, and through it Chad could only make out the back of a man. He recognized the man as the assistant yoga teacher, that 20-or-so old, whose shaggy brown hair was covering his affair's face.

The man took his hand off the other's hip, reaching up, and abruptly tore off his partner's hat, holding it out of reach with a laugh.

It was a blue fedora.

The answering laugh was achingly familiar. Even in the 90-degree heat, Chad felt ice coat his veins in panic and horror and guilt at his own voyeurism, because the body of Ryan Evans plastered against some older man was absolutely not something he should be seeing.

And yet he was caught, staring at the pair, knowing he should look away but completely unable to even blink. The fabric of the hat in his hand grew hot until it was burning his skin and igniting a flame in his veins, on his face, in his mind.

Then, he ran. He sprinted across the facility until he reached his car, fumbling with the keys and barely able to coherently drive out of the parking lot. The racing poorboy was lying in his lap, and so he threw it into the passenger's seat and turned on the radio with quaking fingertips.

His mother was in the kitchen when he got home with the black-and-white hat curled in his fist. She only managed to greet him before he whipped past her, gaunt but determined to reach the solace of his room, to get somewhere he could collect himself. He chucked the hat onto the bed and collapsed at his desk, arms tight against his chest. He stared at the monotone atrocity sitting on his sheets and finally tried to breathe.

He jumped up when there was a knock at the door. Shoving the hat into his closet, he straightened when Troy Bolton appeared around the door's edge.

"Hey man," the brunette grinned, but his lips curved down almost instantly. "Whoa, what's up with you? You look freaked."

"Did you just get here?" Chad asked, ignoring the question.

"Yeah, your dad let me in—What happened?" When Chad didn't answer, Troy gestured to the bed. "Will you sit down, at least? I swear, dude, you look like you're gonna faint."

Chad crossed his arms again and leaned against the wall, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Why'd you come over?"

Unconvinced, Troy frowned, but pulled a paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, he held it out to his teammate. "I just got our schedules early. Gabriella got Ryan to charm one of the office secretaries into getting the entire team's."

Chad jerked at the mention of the choreographer's name, then cleared his throat. "Thanks. Do we—"

"You don't think I checked if we have classes together?" Troy laughed. "We have a few. Calc, physics, lit, drama of course, and lunch."

Chad nodded, appreciative. "And what about—" He cut himself short from saying Ryan, and instead replaced his name with, "Taylor?"

"We got the team's schedules. Is she on the team?"

He shook his head. "I guess not."

"And yet…" Troy beamed, extracting another paper from his pocket, "I do have her schedule. Freaky! Am I good, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah." He took the schedule and feigned interest. This morning, he would've been eagerly copying the class list down for comparison with his own, but right now he couldn't care less. There were too many thoughts running through his head, too many images burned into his memory.

"All right, well… I gotta run." Troy rumpled Chad's hair with one hand, chuckling. "Don't think I won't forget your weirdness, but I promised to pick up Gabriella in ten minutes, so you're off the hook—for now."

Chad nodded, faking a smile. "Thanks for the schedules."

"Any time, man—you should really be thanking Ryan. See ya!"

As soon as the door was shut again, Chad crumpled Taylor's schedule into a ball and threw it, misaimed, at the garbage can.

It hit the rim and bounced off.