Welcome to my Christmas fic, based on one of my favourite holiday songs, 'Same Old Lang Syne' by Dan Fogelberg. I hope you enjoy it much, especially considering it took me frigging forever.

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Boxing Day

Part One

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"Met my old lover in the grocery store, the snow was falling Christmas Eve. I stole behind her in the frozen foods, and I touched her on the sleeve."

The office Christmas party was a bust, as per usual and Troy Bolton briefly wondered to himself why he had bothered attending at all. After last year, when once of his colleagues had gotten so drunk that they had made out with the ice sculpture and the paramedics had to be called when his tongue stuck to it, he should have known better.

At the current moment, his boss, a single, middle-aged man whom Troy was fairly certain would be himself in twenty years, had gotten completely drunk two hours in and was currently sobbing in the corner to a Christmas tree. Several of his colleagues were on top of the desks and grinding like teenagers at a high school dance. Momentarily, he wondered whose genius idea it was to hold the party at the advertising firm's office, on Christmas Eve, no less, but he brushed the thought aside, leaning against the wall with his gin and tonic and wishing that this thing would be over already.

The holidays were in general either a very happy time, or a very unhappy time. For the last four years, Troy Bolton's Christmas had always been unhappy. The media was constantly shoving jingle bells and happy families and magic down the throats of so many people that it was a loss to him as to what the actual holiday was about. He worked in advertising, it was part of his job to make sure people believed in it, but he himself did not.

Hallmark wanted you to believe in many things at the holiday season. Number one, miracles were possible. The sick could be healed, broken hearts repaired and people could walk on water. Number two, deals were everywhere. Socks came in value packs, Mac cosmetics had the super limited edition collectable lipgloss gift-sets and you could find the most perfect gift ever at Sears.

Number three, family was everything and don't you dare forget it. The holidays were a time to be spent with loved ones. Mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, girlfriends and fiancees, boyfriends and husbands. Not under any circumstances were you to be alone at Christmas, no sir.

Oh and most importantly, Christmas was a time to suspend belief in magic.

You were to believe that a fat man came down your chimney and left presents free of charge until you were about ten, you were to believe that he flew in a sled pulled by reindeer. Snowmen came to life, Christmas trees had feelings and even mice were quiet on Christmas Eve.

Too bad none of it was true, there were just some really creative people out there. In fact, unless you had money, family and or the ability to avoid snow, chances were the holidays could be down right depressing and by the age of fifteen, most people had lost their love for Christmas. Lost the magic. The bells no longer made noise and Santa no longer ate the cookies left for him.

Needless to say, that was kind of how Troy felt. To a tee, really.

And this party was doing nothing to help him get over his holiday blues. In fact, they were only increasing them, his being surrounded by equally miserable people.

"Hiya, Troy," a saccharine sweet voice slurred and he was met with the sight of Carol, the blonde haired secretary who had insisted upon hitting on him everytime she was at work. Which was everyday. He smiled stiffly and raised his glass to her.

"Hey there, Carol," he said, taking a sip of his drink. he averted his gaze, hoping that maybe if he seemed disinterested enough (which he was) she would go away.

Apparently, no one had decided to give him great luck upon his birth, so instead he was saddled with her sitting on the edge of the desk he had taken residence upon beside him, crossing her long legs so her ridiculously short skirt slid up her thighs. His eyes lingered a little longer than usually, but he quickly looked away.

"Having fun?" she all but mumbled, and he had to fight the instinct inside of him that was yelling at him to get up and walk away. "I mean, everyone seems to be having a great time and here you are, sitting in the corner, moping."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm not moping, Carol," he said simply, "I'm just observing."

She chortled obnoxiously. "But you should be having fun!" she said, raising her own class, alcohol slopping over the sides over her fingers, "it's Christmas after all! Everyone loves Christmas!"

Mustering another weak smile, Troy took another drink, letting the liquid burn his tongue. Everyone loved Christmas, huh? "The holidays can be hard for a lot of people, Carol," he said pointedly, "you know that."

Carol rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but not for people like you," she said with a smirk.

Troy frowned. "People like me?" he stiffened, feeling slightly defensive. Just what was she even going to imply?

"Yes, people like you." She reached out and grazed her fingertips over his bare forearm; his dress shirt having been rolled up to his sleeves hours earlier. "You're smart, successful, good looking," she emphasized the last one, and he inched back uncomfortably, "and you could have any girl you wanted."

Troy narrowed his eyes, feeling horribly out of place. "Um, Carol, I think that's a very vast assumption you're making about me. I'm not—"

"A people person?" she said, her voice taking on an annoyed edge, "nice to be around? Yeah, that's all true. You know what's so frustrating about you, Troy Bolton?"

Letting out a deep breath, he looked her over, her eyes glassy and her cheeks flushed. "Carol," he said carefully, "you're drunk."

"I don't care!" she snapped, "I've spent the last three months trying to get you to get to know me and everytime you just shove me to the side. And for what? Everyone knows you live alone, everyone knows you're single. Everyone can see how miserable you are."

He stiffened entirely then. No matter how slurred her words were, they were undoubtedly true. She had hit the nail on the head, as well as several of his nerves, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Was he really that transparent?

"I can make you happy, Troy," she said and her voice was undeniably sad. "I can make you feel special." She traced her nail down her chest and he stood up, shuddering at her touch.

"Go drink some water, Carol," he said firmly, "you're drunk." With that, he downed the rest of his drink and began to make his way out of the building.

Carol stared after him, completely confused. "Where are you going?"

Shrugging his coat on, Troy closed his eyes. "I'm going home, Carol. As should you, it's Christmas Eve. Why are we even celebrating on Christmas Eve?"

"Cause none of us have anyone to go home to, Troy," she said and he could hear her voice trembling. "That's why."

"Hm," he said softly, before pushing the office door open and stepping into the lobby. Carol was certainly right about that.

Contrary to public belief, Troy Bolton hadn't always been such a scrooge. Growing up, he had loved Christmas, had waited up till at least ten o'clock Christmas Eve to try to catch a glimpse of Santa's sleigh at the age of five and on Christmas morning, he'd be the first one up, dragging his parents down the stairs at six to open presents.

He'd leave cookies for Santa and trim the tree, sing carols and watch Christmas specials. Dress in red and green and count down the days on his calender.

As a teenager he'd spend hours at the mall searching for the perfect gift for his girlfriend, a lovely, smart girl named Gabriella Montez whom he was absolutely crazy about. He'd debate over scarves and jewelry and perfume for ages, determined to find the exact right thing to give to her. Then he'd cover his bedroom in mistletoe when she'd come over to exchange gifts and she'd giggle into his mouth as he kissed her.

He smiled at the thought. He had loved Gabriella more than he loved anyone in his entire life. They had been together for nearly seven years and had spent six Christmases together. They had moved in together their third year of university and he remembered the small tree they had shoved in the apartment and how she had happily decorated it. Gabriella Montez. She was certainly the best Christmas gift he had ever received, even if he met her a week later on New Years.

Growing up, Troy loved Christmas.

Not anymore, though. It was something he had learned to dread, something he had grown to hate. He wouldn't spend Christmas like that this year. With his work and his sudden, unexpected anti-social attitude, he had committed himself to yet another lonely Christmas.

Bah humbug.

He had left the party in a particularly sour mood, deciding to walk to burn off some of his negative energy. Besides, he needed to stop at the grocery store to gather a few things before returning to his Upper East Side apartment and his Jack Russell terrier, Kobe.

Carol's words had left a bad taste in his mouth as he walked down the street, trying to find the nearest grocery store. He didn't appreciate having his unhappiness thrown in his face, even though it wasn't like he made a point to try to hide it. But it was Christmas, dammit, she should at least pretend for one day a year.

Finally, a small little shop came into sight, one he frequented not often, but occasionally enough to be familiar with it. Shrugging the snow off of his hair, he walked through the glass doors of the small grocery store and felt instantly comforted by it's warmth. Now to get what he came for; beer, candy canes and dog food. Quick in and out.

It wouldn't be so bad, he had decided, spending another Christmas here in New York while the rest of his family was in Albuquerque. Work was too stressful, too busy for him to take off days and weeks at a time to be with people. He was expected to work Christmas Eve and he did, and he was expected to work Boxing Day, as well. There was no time for play.

It would be the third time in his life that he would spend the holiday alone, and frankly, he was starting to get used to it. He had Kobe and he would wake up and call his parents, before settling down with the small dog on his couch and watch Christmas specials all day long. Then the next day it would all be over and he could go back to living his life without bells and carols.

Still, he thought as he advanced down the cereal aisle, it was difficult seeing so much happiness and joy around him, so many people with their friends and family and knowing that he would go home to an empty house (minus Kobe, of course). But that was what he got for alienating himself to New York. That was what he got for wanting to be successful.

Everything had a price, he had realized upon graduating college, uprooting himself and breaking up with his girlfriend. It just depended on whether or not you were willing to pay it.

At the time, doing all of these things, starting fresh, they seemed like the perfect thing for a twenty-three year old to do. He figured that by twenty-seven, he'd be in a new relationship, he'd be happy and he'd be settled and he'd be successful. While he was the last one, he was none of the others, but ignoring this was easier as the days went on.

What was not easy, apparently, was picking out a flavor of oatmeal. Goddamn, why did there have to suddenly be so many different choices? Apple cinnamon, raisins and spice, strawberries and cream (oh that sounded so unappealing.) Finally, he decided on the plain version with the little eggs that turned into mini-dinosaurs when they got warm enough, figuring that that could make for a fun breakfast experience.

As he turned around, satisfied with his decision, his hand skimmed the arm of another customer and his knee bumped their basket, sending the belongings inside flying to the ground. Troy closed his eyes as he winced, awkwardly, before dropping his own box and bending down to try and recover some of the other person's belongings.

"I am so, so sorry," he said, grabbing a box of Special K and a package of cherry tomatoes. He glanced up, continuing, "I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, I—"

He stopped, his eyes fixed on the person, no, woman before him. Her long dark black hair was curled loosely and fell over her shoulders in long strands and waves, a white knit cap settled on top. She was wearing a red pea coat and light jeans, her frown furrowed as she bit her lip in slightly discontent. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of her.

It had been so long since he had seen her.

"It's okay," she said softly, and he felt his stomach swoop. Her voice still sounded the same, slightly deeper. "It happens, no big deal." She looked up then and their eyes met, brown meeting blue for the first time in four, nearly five years. She stiffened.

"Troy Bolton?" she asked, the block of cheese she had been holding slipping from her hand as it fell to the floor.

He blinked, staring back at her, wondering if she was real. Maybe he was still at the office and had passed out drunk or something. "Gabriella? Gabriella Montez?" he said in shock, "what are you doing here?"

The girl in front of him was indeed Gabriella Montez, the notion confirmed when her face burst into a smile. Her voice was light and airy, filled with excitement. "I just transferred here from Albuquerque!" she said happily, "just last month!"

Troy was suddenly taken back to the eleventh grade, his junior year of high school, when he stood before the same girl and held her arm in wonder as he realized she was the very person who he had sang with on New Year's Eve. The same girl he had thought about everyday since then.

Now she stood in front of him as the girl he left behind four years ago; the girl who had been his first love. The one he left alone in an apartment she couldn't really afford on her own in California, saying it was for the best and that they were growing separate ways. We're high school sweethearts, he had said, we don't stand a chance in the real world.

He had been selfish, that Troy Bolton had. He had believed that he needed to experience new things, meet new people and he thought Gabriella did, too. He was no longer that seventeen year old boy from Albuquerque who drove all night to take her to prom. She knew this, probably more than he did, and so, she let him go.

She let him go and the last he had heard of her, she was working at a law firm in Albuquerque and dating a man named Brad. Brad was also a lawyer, apparently, and they were, according to Chad Danforth, very happy. Troy couldn't help the bitter taste that slid on this tongue at the news. Truth be told, he hadn't stopped thinking about Gabriella since he arrived in New York. In everything he saw her, thought she might like this, might like that. He saw her face in the crowds, stared at complete strangers until he had made them vastly uncomfortable as he deciphered whether or not they were her. There was nothing he regretted more than thinking he could live without her.

He had missed her.

"I," he swallowed, feeling very much the awkward, gangly seventeen year old boy he had been the first time he met her at a ski lodge in Colorado. "I...that's great! Just the a month ago, huh?"

Gabriella nodded excitedly. "Yeah, seriously, I just finished unpacking!" she looked up at him, her eyes happy and wide. "I heard that you were still living here and I wondered if I would bump into you, but it's such a huge city that I thought it was pretty unlikely!"

He tensed a little bit at her revelation. She had thought they might bump into each other? Had she hoped for it? But why hadn't she just tried contacting if she wanted to see him? He would have gladly seen her.

"You could have just called," he said softly, a smile playing on his lips, but his voice held a trace of hurt he hadn't known was present.

She shrugged and frowned. "Well, I don't know, I haven't exactly talked to you in...four years? Has it been that long?" she mused out loud and he nodded, feeling even guiltier at the way things had ended between them. She swallowed. "I don't think calling you out of the blue is something that either of us would have been particularly comfortable with."

"Oh," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, recalling the last time they had spoken and how he could hear her sobs through the door of their shared apartment. "Yeah, I...yeah. Good point."

Gabriella was never one to dwell on the bad things, at least not for too long, and as such, she plastered a large smile on her face. "It's so good to see you, Troy!" she said genuinely and he felt his chest swell and grow a little warmer. "It's been so long. You look great."

Great, she thought he looked great. Suddenly he felt great. "You do, too, Gabriella," he said, looking her over. "Honestly, you look just as beautiful as you did all of those years ago."

"Thanks," she said shyly, ducking her head and he inwardly winced, wishing he hadn't been so bold. She hadn't even been particularly comfortable with compliments back in the days they had been dating, so throwing a random one out after four years of not speaking might have been a little forward of him. "Um, I...I have a couple of other things to get, you want to come follow me?"

Troy shrugged, trying to remain casual, but on the inside he was doing cartwheels. "Why not?"

They walked side by side down the aisle of the grocery store as Troy tried desperately to think of something to say. 'How have you been?' was too vague and 'how's your law firm with your boyfriend Brad going?' was too specific. Instead he was stuck in the silence that he hadn't expected, but welcomed given his lack of discussion topics. At least it wasn't awkward.

Much.

"So I spoke to Chad a few weeks ago," Gabriella began, examining a bag of rice cakes, "and he said that you're working for an advertising firm? How's that going?"

Ugh, his job. Why did people always ask about that? He knew why—it was the only real thing he had going on in his life. "Um, it's going good," he said diplomatically, "we're busy this time of year, you know, with holiday television ads and campaigns and stuff. Nothing too exciting though. It pays the bills."

"More than well, I hear," she said with a wink as they turned down the other aisle. "I'm really happy that you've become so successful, Troy. Your mom is always talking about how proud of you she is whenever I see her."

Troy turned to her, slightly shocked. "You talk to my mom?"

Gabriella shrugged. "From time to time," she admitted, "I see her at functions held by the Danforths and stuff. She was a huge part of my life for a long time, you know? Just because...well, just because you left California and Albuquerque doesn't mean it's changed a lot."

He looked down then, guilty and Gabriella bit her lip, obviously regretting saying the latter of her sentence. "But it's good that you did!" Gabriella said with a smile, "I mean, look at you now! You're all older and successful and well off! Just like you wanted to be!"

Yeah, he thought bitterly, just like I wanted to be. "What about you?" he asked, changing the topic, "you still at the law firm?"

She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about that? I know for a fact you don't talk to my mom."

Troy chuckled, noting that it was true and then wondering why his mother had never mentioned her conversations with Gabriella. "Chad told me. He said you were doing really well."

"Yeah, it's a great place to work," she said with a wide smile, "but they offered me a new position here in New York and I decided to take it. Change of pace and all of that."

They had come to a stop in front of the candy aisle and Troy watched in amusement as Gabriella's eyes lit up at the sight of the different coloured bags and wrappers. She looked just like a kid. "Oh wow," she said, her voice airy, "this is the first time I've been to this grocery store and I had no idea it had a candy aisle like this."

"Little known secret," he said with a grin. "Is that a prerequisite to where you shop, now? They have to have a decent candy aisle?"

She shot a grin back at him. "Oh, yes, it's a must," she said cheekily. "But I never buy anything. I shouldn't, it's not good for me."

She was still the same Gabriella, cautious and reasonable. He felt his heart flutter at the notion that she hadn't changed much since the days when they were in school, carefree and in love. He nudged her elbow with his.

"Oh come on," he said teasingly, "it's Christmas Eve. Consider it a gift to yourself."

Rolling her eyes, Gabriella bit her lip tentatively before exhaling, defeated, and reaching forward to grab a bag of gummie bears. "Happy?" she asked, tossing it in her basket.

"Maybe just a little," he said with a smirk. "Did you need to get anything else?"

"No, I'm ready to go," she said cheerfully. "To the checkout line!"

The whole scene felt fairly domestic, just like the afternoons they'd spend grocery shopping together during their college years, bantering back and forth about cereal prices. He had loved those days.

They made their way over to the cash register and Troy checked out his items fairly quickly; he had decided to pass on the beer, Gabriella's presence enough to make him forget exactly what he had come for, but managed to remember to buy dog food and candy canes, along with the randomly acquired oatmeal.

"That'll be $56.87," the bored cashier said as he bagged Gabriella's groceries. A festive Santa hat perched on his head was the only thing that made him seem slightly happy, but even then that was a stretch.

She nodded and began counting out her change carefully. She stared down at the bills and coins in her hand momentarily, and then she paused, riffling through it on her palm. He could tell she was getting flustered, her cheeks slowly growing red and he cleared his throat.

"You okay?" he asked casually, "or did you forget how to count?"

Gabriella let out a weak giggle, her voice high pitched and uncomfortable. "No, I'm, shoot—" she mumbled, "I'm short four dollars." She looked up from the money and bit her lip, surveying the groceries on the belt. "I guess maybe I'll leave the candy, it's expensive and I don't really need it."

"No, it's okay," Troy said, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "I don't mind, I'll pay for it."

She shook her head. "No, you really don't have to do that, I can leave it," she reached out to grab the bag and tell the cashier to take it off her bill, but Troy's hand intercepted hers, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. They both froze.

Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips and he felt little goosebumps erupt on her skin upon contact. She looked up at him with her eyes wide and startled, and he felt his heart pound as his mouth went dry.

He smiled nervously. "Come on, Montez," he said, his tone light, "just think of it like old times. I used to treat you all of the time."

"Yes," she said slowly, "but I never liked it then either."

Troy's smile grew more steady, more confident. "Oh, well, then this is definitely like old times, then." He let her wrist drop and handed the cashier the four dollars, before turning back to Gabriella with an amused smirk. She rolled her eyes, her cheeks still flushed and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.

The cashier handed Troy the receipt, who then handed it to Gabriella. "Have a good night then," the teen said, looking like he wished them anything but.

"You, too," Troy said, picking up a couple of Gabriella's bags and gathering them with his own. "Merry Christmas!"

The teenager frowned. "I'm Jewish."

Troy felt his own cheeks flush. "Oh. Oh, well, um, Happy Hanukkah, then," he stumbled over his words and he heard Gabriella simper next to him. He turned too look at her and was elated to see that her nose was scrunched up, her eyes dancing with mirth at his embarrassment.

Somehow, that made everything lighter.

They walked down the street in silence, one that wasn't quite comfortable. Troy tried to think of different things he wanted to ask about, different things he wanted to know of, but he found that his mind was far too much of a jumble for him to really decide on anything. Mostly he was still reeling that she was there beside him. Why was he so excited anyway? It was just Gabriella, his high school sweetheart and his college girlfriend and he had loved her, but that was then. For all he knew she was married and had children waiting for her back home.

The very thought that she had a whole little world, a whole little family made his blood run cold. It was weird, the notion that she had moved on and had met someone else. What if she was married to Brad? She hadn't corrected him when he had called her Montez, but what if she maybe hadn't changed her name? She had always said she wouldn't take his when they'd fantasize about kids and a white picket fence back in their senior year of high school. Back when everything seemed perfect and it was just the two of them. Who was to say that her ideals had suddenly changed?

"Where are you parked?" he asked abruptly, eager to get his mind off the thought of her being with someone else. Was she wearing a ring? Did he even look at her fingers? Oh, god, he sucked.

"Parked?" she asked, furrowing her brow, "oh, I'm not, I walked here," she said simply and his mouth fell open. "What?"

"You walked here?" he asked disbelievingly, "in this weather?"

Gabriella shrugged as if it were no big deal. "I only live a block away, it's not far."

Troy shook his head. "It doesn't matter, it's freezing out here! And late at night! And you're new to the city!"

"My, my, Troy Bolton," Gabriella interrupted, her mouth sloping into an amused smile, "don't you sound ever concerned?"

His jaw closed with a quick snap and his cheeks flushed. God, she was making him blush like a teenager, behavior entirely inappropriate for a full-grown man. "I can't help it, it's dangerous and you know it."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what about you?" she asked, shifting the paper bags in her arms, "where's your car?"

If he could have scratched the back of his neck in sheepishly he would have, but as it was his hands were full. "I um, I may have walked, too."

Her face split into a grin and she tilted her head back and laughed slightly. The snow swirled around her and gathered in her hair and settled on top of her red coat. The yellow-purple lights from the street lamps illuminated her silhouette and Troy was reminded of just how beautiful she was.

"Oh, Troy," she said, her voice soft and warm, "you would. You would worry about someone else before yourself. It was one of the things I loved about you most."

'One of the things I loved about you most.' Loved, as in past tense. Suddenly he didn't feel like he was seventeen anymore, but rather twenty-seven. He bit his lip.

"Yeah, well," he paused, "let me walk you home? I don't want you walking alone, not knowingly."

She started to shake her head. "No, Troy, it's okay, I—"

"Please," he interjected, "it's Christmas Eve. Consider it my gift to you."

"But I haven't gotten you anything," she said with a smile.

He smiled back at her as they began to walk, falling in step. "Don't worry about it."

He didn't say it, but her being there was gift enough for him.

"Well this is me," Gabriella said all but four minutes later and Troy felt his heart sink. She really did only live a block away, the walk really had been that short.

He gazed up at her apartment building and it's seemingly nice exterior. "You?" he began casually.

She nodded, her lips quirking up in amusement once more. "Yes, me," she stared at him suspiciously before adjusting the bags in her arms and extending her hand for the ones he was carrying. "Can you hand those to me?"

He stepped forward and placed them in her arms gently. "Careful," he said, "you don't want to drop them."

"I know," she said with a teasing smile, "I'm trying." Once the bags were transported from he and her, they stood in front of each other, the cool air blustering around them.

"Um, I guess you had better get upstairs," he said, looking down at his feet, feeling awkward and small. "It's cold and I'm sure you've got someone waiting for you."

"I don't!" she said quickly, shaking her head hastily, "have someone waiting for me, I mean."

He felt a jolt run through him. "Oh? No roommate?"

"Oh, Troy," Gabriella giggled, clutching the bags closer to her and he felt slightly self-conscious. What was so funny?

"What?" he asked.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said, scrunching her nose, "if that's your not so subtle way of asking me."

Feeling his cheeks heat up once more, Troy awkwardly adjusted his own bags in his arms. "Oh, well, um, I just was. Yeah."

The quiet settled in between them once more and Gabriella let out a deep breath, the air fanning out in front of her. "I guess this is it, then," she said softly.

"Yeah," Troy agreed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I guess so." He scuffed the toe of his shoe off the ground awkwardly. He didn't really want to go, he didn't really want to say goodbye. Especially not tonight of all nights. "It was really good to see you, Gabriella."

"It was good to see you, too, Troy," she said as she drew her lip in between her teeth. "Merry Christmas."

Feeling the sadness seep into him, he nodded. "Merry Christmas." She smiled slightly, before turning to walk away.

Just as he turned on his heel and began to make his way down the opposite end of the street, his heart heavy, he heard her call out his name and spun back around.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully.

Gabriella bit her lip again. "Um, I was just..." she trailed off, "it's cold."

He blinked at her. "Yes," he said slowly, "it is."

"It's cold," she said again, "and I have hot chocolate inside and you bought candy canes at the grocery store and...did you want to come up for a bit? Warm up?"

Troy's heart jumped at her invitation. "Um, sure!" he said quickly, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "That would be great."

Gabriella grinned and he felt his heart beat just a little bit faster at the sight. "Okay," she held open the door for him, "come on in then."

Everywhere he looked in her apartment, he saw little bits of her. It was undeniably her, even though she had only lived there for a few weeks. The walls had been painted a soft Tiffany blue, the paint cans still sitting in the hallway, and there was a small hall table with leafy green plants sitting on top. Her living room was small, crammed with a fluffy white couch and arm chair, a television and a coffee table stacked high with magazines. A bookshelf stood against one wall, lined with hundreds of books. He walked over to it as she hung up their coats and read some of the titles. She had everything from best sellers to classics to obscure books he had never even heard of.

It was so Gabriella.

Pictures decorated the walls and he felt his heart lurch at the sight of some of the faces staring back at him. Chad, Taylor McKessie, Ryan and Sharpay Evans. All semi-recent photos, too. She as right. Life had still gone on in Albuquerque, even though he wasn't there. When was the last time he had been home for more than a day or two?

He was surprised by himself when he realized he couldn't even remember.

He continued glancing around the surroundings of her apartment as she excused herself to go put her groceries away and to make them some hot chocolate. He felt like he had been here before, the place feeling familiar and comfortable in a way he hadn't anticipated. It wasn't long before he realized that the reason was because it reminded him of their old apartment.

He was suddenly taken back six years ago to when they had first moved into the tiny Californian apartment building, located in the exact halfway point between their two universities. It had had bright windows and a balcony and every inch of the place showed an aspect of their personalities, of their lives together. Rich colours were painted on the walls, dozens of throw pillows on the couches and pictures lining every available and free space. He had loved waking up in their bed, Gabriella already in the kitchen making breakfast and he would trek to the bathroom, fighting with the faucet in the shower to get it to run with hot water.

Why had he given it all up?

Seeing her again, he realized just how much he had missed Gabriella, had missed their life together. He had been a foolish young man, that was painfully obvious to him from the moment he stepped foot in New York, but he hadn't realized just how much this was true. He had missed random things about her, hearing her talk, hearing her laugh, missed her cooking, her warm touch. He had missed how on Saturday mornings he had to coax her out of bed with sloppy kisses all over her cheeks and how on Sunday nights she'd insist they share a bath. He missed how he'd find her at three AM in the living room, studying and he missed how she always smelled like cotton candy and vanilla.

He missed how her cheeks would flush when she was angry and the way she would roll her eyes when he said something stupid. He missed hearing her sing in the kitchen, missed kissing her just because he could. He missed how she was at Christmas, forcing them to go home to Albuquerque even though they couldn't afford it and the way she put painstaking effort into every gift she bought.

He realized again that he just missed her.

There had been a constant negativity surrounding their relationship from the moment they set eyes on each other. They came from different cliques and to the average teenager, that meant they were doomed from the start. But they had overcome that and he had followed her to California, a stunning thirty-two point seven miles away from her at all times. They were able to take down any obstacle that had been thrown in front of them, so why had he thought that they couldn't overcome the odds and be together forever?

Shaking his head from the thoughts that were plaguing his mind, his eyes settled on another photograph and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of his own twenty year old face staring back at him. They were sitting on a ferris wheel, making silly faces at the camera and he remembered the night vividly. There had been a carnival in Albuquerque; it had been summer and every time he had looked at her, he thought his heart might burst. That was right before they had moved in together.

Pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes, he drew in a shaky breath.

"So what about you?" Gabriella's cheerful, light voice asked as she came into the room, carrying two mugs filled to the brim with hot liquid and marshmallows. She sat down on the couch and motioned for Troy to join her.

He did so, sitting next to her and their knees brushed as he accepted the mug from her. "What about me what?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked, blowing on her hot chocolate before taking a sip.

He looked at her in surprise, shocked by how bold she was once again. Guess a lot of things do change, he thought. "Um, no," he admitted, staring down at the marshmallows in his mug. There were five, just how he had liked it years ago. He didn't know if it was just by coincidence, or if she had remembered, but he found himself desperately wishing that it was the latter.

She was quiet and raised an eyebrow, "Really?" she asked surprised. "I was certain you'd be attached to someone by now. I never felt comfortable asking anyone."

He shook his head. "Nah, I haven't dated anyone seriously since..." he trailed off and the air was heavy with his implications. He hadn't dated anyone since her.

It was true, he had dated casually here and there, but no one had peaked his interest and the few one night stands he had had didn't count. It was too busy with work anyway, too busy working up to fill the greed that he had suddenly decided upon one day. There was no room for others.

"Oh, I see," Gabriella said, tracing the rim of her mug. Troy didn't respond, instead leaning over and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He sputtered slightly at the taste.

"Gabriella!" he said, his voice unusually high, "this does not taste just like hot chocolate."

The brunette grinned. "That's because I may have sort of spiked it, if that's okay with you."

Troy laughed and his jaw fell open. "Gabriella Montez spiked the hot chocolate? The same girl who refused to drink the punch at our school's spring fling because Chad had filled it with like, three percent vodka?"

She giggled into her glass and his heart warmed at the sound. "What can I say? I've gotten kind of daring in my old age."

"You're hardly old, Gabriella," he said, smiling, but his tone was serious.

She shrugged. "I don't know about that, Troy. I'm nearly twenty-seven. Life is going on for me, too." She looked at him seriously. "How are you liking life in New York, Troy?"

He regarded her carefully, debating on whether to give her the same lie he had fed to his mother all these years or to be honest. It wasn't a difficult decision, she would see through whatever he said anyway.

"Honestly?" he said, leaning back into the couch, "it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Hm," Gabriella said, sipping her drink delicately, "not what you expected?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not at all. I mean for my career, it's been great. I've more successful than I ever dreamed, but for the other aspects of my life? It kind of sucks." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "It's kind of lonely, you know?"

"You didn't have to leave Albuquerque, Troy," Gabriella said softly, "I know you think you did, but you didn't."

"I know," he said just as quietly, "but I guess I figured I'd made my decision and I had to live with it, you know?"

Gabriella nodded. "Yeah, but it...I don't know," she frowned, "I'm sorry things turned out this way for you."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, me too."

"Are you really just all alone in that apartment of yours?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Not entirely," he said with a smirk, "I have a dog."

Her brown eyes lit up in delight. "A dog? What kind? What's it's name?"

"His name is Kobe," Troy said with a boyish grin as Gabriella laughed, "he's a Jack Russell terrier and my best friend. He's a good companion."

"Aww!" Gabriella cooed, "I'd love to meet him sometime, if possible!"

Troy paused, his skin feeling tingly at the notion that there could be other times, that he and Gabriella could be friends and maybe rekindle something that they once had.

"You should," he said, smiling widely, "I'd like you to."

She broke out into her own smile, this one shy and genuine. The conversation flowed between them as if no time had passed. As if they were still nineteen and Troy had ditched class and was spending the night in her dorm where they'd stay up talking till four. There were no lulls or breaks, both of them detailing their lives over the last four years they spent without the other. Troy spoke of his job, of how he got Kobe on a whim as a birthday present to himself two years ago, of all of the hot spots in New York and the holes in the wall and the places to avoid. Gabriella spoke of her own job, of her break up with Brad because he was a lazy, boring fool and of her simple, happy life in Albuquerque.

"Do you remember that one Christmas," Gabriella said several spiked hot chocolates later. She and Troy had opened his box of candy canes and one hung from her mouth lazily, her lips coated with a thin layer of green. "That one year where I sang 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' everyday just to be obnoxious?"

Biting into his own candy cane, Troy laughed, remembering the way her voice would hit his ears as he woke up every morning. "I do, you were driving me crazy, but I still didn't mind."

Giggling, Gabriella laid back against the couch, resting her feet in his lap. "I don't even know why I did, but I sure had fun," she smiled happily, "and then you bought me a massive stuffed purple hippopotamus as a present. I nearly died from laughing."

"It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!" He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this much. "I saw it in the store and knew I had to buy it for you."

Sighing, Gabriella sucked on her candy cane and nudged Troy's stomach with her foot. "That was a good Christmas," she said fondly, "it was just you and I cause your parents were at a party and we got drunk on eggnog and then made out by the Christmas tree. Good times."

Troy remembered that Christmas vividly, the little red sweatsuit she had worn and the santa hat she had forced him to wear. The way her kisses tasted like eggnog and her skin was warm beneath his palms. "That was a good Christmas." His eyes wandered around the room and they landed on the photo of the two of them, all of those years ago, still placed on the wall.

"I noticed you still have that picture up," he said, pointing over to it before resting his hands on her ankles.

Craning her neck to see where he was pointing, Gabriella looked up before cracking a smile. "Oh yeah, I like that picture of us," she let her head fall back against the cushions, "I like our expressions and since we're not making any contact, it doesn't look like we're dating. So it doesn't look like I have a picture of my ex-boyfriend on the wall or anything."

Chuckling awkwardly, he looked over at the photo again. "That was a fun night."

"It was," she said fondly, "but a lot of what we did together was fun. I always had the best time with you, Troy. Thanks for making being a teenager slash young adult so fun."

"Um, you're welcome."

"That was the thing," she said, exhaling slowly, "life went on in Albuquerque, but it wasn't the same. Not without you. Everything was different after you left. I didn't like it there as much."

"That's probably why I came to New York. To see what all the fuss was about, to see what took you away from home," she confessed, looking down. "Not all of the reason, but somewhere in the back of my mind...yeah, I probably thought that."

"I'm glad you came," Troy said, his voice soft, "I mean...it's so great seeing you. You have no idea."

Gabriella smiled and shrugged. "I don't know about that," she said, "I think I have a hunch."

Something about the look in her eye made Troy snap and he scooted down the couch, adjusting himself until he was hovering over Gabriella, his hand pressed against the arm of the couch to hold himself up. She looked at him nervous, shifting beneath him as she made room for his body to cover hers. His other hand slid up the curve of her arm and shoulder, before brushing over her hair and coming to rest on her cheek. He stroked her soft skin with his thumb and felt it grown hot. Gabriella shifted, sitting up slightly, and she looked into his eyes, shivering at his touch.

"Troy—"

He cut her off, his lips crashing onto hers. He felt her stiffen under him slightly, her body going rigid, before she melted into him, her body bending and curving against his; her lips moulding over his in the softest of kisses.

Her hand trailed up his chest to the nape of his neck, where she buried her fingers in the strands of his hair. He shivered at her touch, feeling hot and cold all over as their mouths tugged and pulled, caressed and nibbled.

Her lips felt and tasted exactly the same as they once had, he realized as he skimmed his tongue over her bottom lip. He shifted on the couch again, digging one hand into her hair and the other running over her thigh that was draped over his hip. She was so warm and so familiar and so...

So pushing him away from her.

"Troy," she said, breaking away from his lips and pressing a hand to his chest, pushing him away. "Don't."

He sat up as she shifted beneath him, taking his weight off of her. "Gabriella?"

She had tensed and was sitting upright now, a hand pressed to her lips, her eyes closed. "You shouldn't have done that," she whispered, "I think you should go."

He blinked, scrambling to his feet as she stood and began to make her way to the door. "Go?" he asked, feeling slightly panicked, "but Gabriella, I—"

"No, I really think you should go," she said again, her voice trembling. She was moving in an anxious frenzy, as if terrified of what might happen next. She pulled open the hall closet and yanked out his jacket. "Here's your coat, have a good Christmas, okay?"

Troy ran a hand through his hair, feeling flustered and confused. One minute they were kissing on her couch and the next she was shoving them out the front door? They had laughed together, joked and reminisced. Why was she suddenly so tense? "Wait, hold up, you want me to leave?"

"Yes, I think I've made it clear that I want you to," she said, and her voice was thick with tears now, her eyes wet and glassy. "So please, go."

"But we've had so much fun, tonight!" he said, his voice pleading, "I just...don't let us leave on this note. I'm sorry about the kiss, can't we just forget it, I—"

"Troy, you shouldn't have kissed me," she said simply, "we had a great night and now we've ruined it, so please, leave before this gets any worse."

"But Gabriella," he said desperately, his heart sinking as he grasped for reasons as to why he should stay, "seeing you again, being with you, talking...touching you; it feels too good. It's like..." he let out an exasperated breath, "it's like I'm seventeen again and we're back in high school. Don't you want to hold onto that feeling? Don't you want to be that happy?"

She looked up at him then and he was stunned into silence at how serious she looked, at how much older she was. She caught a tear as it escaped from her eye and traced a path down her cheek. "Troy," she said, her voice clipped, "it's a great feeling, being with you, but," she paused, meeting his eyes and flinching at the look in them. "But we're not in high school anymore."

Gabriella walked several steps forward and he fought the urge to jump forward and fold her into his arms while simultaneously wanting to run in the other direction. She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled weakly. "Sometimes, as we know, you have to grow

up and move on, Wildcat."

He trembled at the sound of his old nickname and captured her hand in his. "Gabriella," he stroked his thumb over her knuckles and she shuddered, "what about growing together? What if all those years ago we made a mistake by moving on?"

Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away from his and stood up on her tip-toes. She pressed a frown to his lips and he tasted her one last time. Her taste, a combination of cocoa, peppermint and alcohol would linger in his mouth for days.

"There is no growing together for us, Troy," she said simply, her voice tired, "we grew apart. It's just not meant for us and it was great that someone out there decided to give us this little Christmas present, but it's not lasting and you and I both know that."

He stiffened at her words, stepping out of her grasp, his eyes narrowing and his jaw setting. "So that's it then?" he said, the words bitter, "you go your way and I go mine and we both deny what has been thrown in our faces for the second time? We met by fate all those years ago, Gabriella—"

"And you tore us apart!" she spit, and he jumped, startled at the anger lacing her voice. "You were the one who wanted to break up, you were the one who ended things, who wanted to grow. You never wanted to grow with me, Troy, don't give me that bullshit!"

Her lower lip trembled and she ran a hand through her hair as she fought to remain composed. "I would have done anything to be with you four years ago, Troy. I would have fought for you, I would have dropped out of school, risked everything for you if you only asked. I was that in love with you," tears slipped down her cheeks at her admission, but she held her head high, defiantly. "And you just left. You just wanted to move on. I didn't, Troy, and for the longest time, I couldn't. I was a mess when you left me, in our apartment, no less."

She looked up at him then, watering eyes and all. "So don't stand here and tell me that you think we're meant to be together when we had our chance and you wasted it. Don't tell me all of that just because you're lonely on Christmas. Boxing day is less than thirty-six hours away, Troy, just grin and bare it and it'll all be over and you can go back to your life without me in it. Just like it was last Christmas and the one before that and the one before that."

"Gabriella," he said as he reached for her, but she stepped out of the way, "I'm sorry, I was young and stupid and I..." he swallowed roughly, "I'm miserable without you."

And he was. It wasn't that he hated his job or his apartment or the lack of people in his life. Those weren't the things that made him unhappy. It was that she wasn't there. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

"No, Troy," she said, swiping her tears away, "you're just miserable. Period."

Her words sent a chill down his spine. "Gabriella, I..."

"You," she had to take a deep breath before she could continue, "you should go. No, I want you to go, please leave."

"Gabriella—"

"Merry Christmas, Troy," she said quietly, before moving past him to open her front door. She gestured to it with her hand, motioning that he should leave, and he closed his eyes tightly before shrugging his coat on and stepping out into the hallway.

She slammed the door behind him and he made his way out of her apartment building, his head down as he watched his feet, counting the floor tiles. He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall as he watched the numbers above his head go from fourteen to one, and then he stepped into the lobby and outside into the cold.

He glanced at his watch. It was just after midnight on Christmas morning. The snow fell around him and as he made his way down the empty street, he thought to himself that he had never wished for rain so badly.

"The beer was empty and our tongues were tired, and running out of things to say. She gave a kiss to me as I got out, and I watched her drive away.

Just for a moment, I was back at school, and felt that old familiar pain. And as I turned to make my way back home, the snow turned into rain."

Part two will be up New Years Eve. I'm sorry to leave the fic on sad note right before the holidays, but, you know me, I can't seem to write fluff anymore without making it all filled with emotions and drama. To make up for it I might write something small and happy on Christmas Eve, but IDK.

The story isn't over yet, though! Keep that in mind!

Special thanks to Kerry for looking it over and reading and for helping in general. LOVE YOU.