Chapter Text
Chad wakes up to sunlight knocking at his eyelids, his thoughts feeling like static inside his head. His mouth is dry and an unpleasant taste lingers on his tongue even after downing the glass of water on his nightstand. He looks up at the wooden panelled ceiling, counting down the planks, when his phone lights up and buzzes on the nightstand. He yanks the charging cable out and squints as it comes on. There are a few non-descript notifications, but the one that demands his attention is a text message, from a number he doesn’t recognise.
His heart lurches.
646-229-4501
Hi, morning! This is Ryan, I thought it would be good for you to have my number
And, you know, I did promise to text you lol
Warmth spreads underneath his ribs, a slow smile curling his lips slowly. He reads the words again and again, until it seems like those particular words in that particular order have lost all meaning, like when you say a word so many times it doesn’t sound like a word anymore. Then he saves the number.
He tells himself he should get some coffee before he attempts a conversation with Ryan. His stomach feels funny and he’s not sure whether it’s the unexpected text or the hangover having that effect on him.
He ambles out of bed and spills into the hallway, his bare feet padding over the wooden floors. The cold tile in the kitchen makes him wince, but he’s soon waiting for a pot of coffee to brew, intermittently unlocking and locking his phone back, as if Ryan is about to write something else. His house is eerily quiet in the late morning. No parents or sister or friends have left behind traces of them being in his space. They probably think he needs the day to recover from the party. While five years ago he could have drank the entire bar at the restaurant last night, right now he feels old and decrepit and cranky. His head doesn’t hurt, per say, but his thoughts are foggy and he feels like he’s under the weather.
When he finally sits down on the couch he does so with a pained sigh, still dressed in underwear boxers and nothing else, a hot mug of coffee in his hand. He takes a tentative sip, puts the cup on the table in front of him and only then returns his attention to his phone. The message stares back at him as soon as he unlocks his phone again. Only now does he spot the time it was sent at. 07:02AM. Chad winces.
Then he types.
Chad Danforth
hey, morning. why were you up so early?? crazy haha hope you feel okay?
Ryan’s phone lights up on the bed where he felt it before going into the ensuite bathroom, to try to get off the layer of sweat accumulated during his early morning walk with Sharpay. Since they were little, they both woke up too early for most people, sometimes before sunrise, which back in those days was a nightmare for their young parents trying to actually get some sleep for once. And while his and Sharpay’s sleeping habits haven’t changed much, he knows his parents are glad the twins don’t try to enforce their schedule on other people. Sharpay knocked on his door early in the morning, proposing a walk to work off the alcohol from their bloodstream and get a coffee from the bakery in the neighbourhood.
By the time Chad texts him, he has had a delicious croissant and a strong coffee and feels more like a human.
He sees the message when he gets out of the shower and, for some reason, it doesn’t feel right to text Chad back while in the state he’s currently in. So he dries himself quickly, putting on comfortable, lounging clothes, his hair still damp and unruly as he types back.
Ryan
That would actually be late for me lol
What can I say, I’m an early riser
And yeah!! I feel all good now that I’ve had a coffee and a shower
You? Awake properly yet?
And if you are, what are you doing for lunch?
Time passes and his coffee gets colder and then his mug is empty and Ryan still hasn’t answered. Then his phone buzzes and keeps buzzing, message after message trickling onto the left side of the screen, his own words pushed up by the numerous texts sent by Ryan. He can feel himself smiling, he knows he is. He shouldn’t be. Should he?
He immediately feels for the state of his hair, knowing it probably needs a wash and he needs a shower and another coffee, before he’s halfway to presentable, but for a moment Chad thinks: why wait until lunch, why not now?
He almost tells as much to Ryan, but instead just tells the blond he doesn’t have any plans and asks him if he has something in mind. He then jumps away from the couch, looking through his playlists for appropriate shower music before disappearing into the bathroom.
The Google search on Ryan’s phone for ‘brunch spots quiet nearby’ makes him inwardly cringe. All of the listings he’s scrolling through are either too New Mexico or boring looking. He bites his lip for a moment, a frustrated groan stuck at the back of his throat. He would ask Sharpay, who is slightly more familiar with Albuquerque nowadays and he thinks of the questioning gaze his sister will level him with. So he’s texting Chad again.
His phone screen reveals there are several notifications waiting for him when he’s out of the shower.
Ryan
I wanted to have lunch/brunch
BUT I actually can’t find any good places lol
Any chance you know any good places in town?
Chad’s smile makes its way onto his lips without his permission again and he looks into the foggy mirror, trying to school the hazy vision of himself. The cynical part of his brain is screaming at him to get a hold of his feelings and remember he’s no longer in high school. In fact, it’s been more than ten years since he’s been in high school, and he needs to let go of the image of Ryan he had in those days.
But then his thumb presses the green button that starts an outgoing call towards Ryan. He waits for a ring, two, and then he starts to feel less brave about the idea, but it’s too late. Ryan’s voice comes to him over his phone’s speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Chad answers, padding back into his room, sitting on the edge of his bed still in a towel. “I do know a place,” he says and he can tell there’s a smile in his voice.
“Really? Thank god,” Ryan says on the other end with what sounds like a relieved, breathy chuckle, which does something funny to Chad’s stomach.
“Yeah. I do live here, you know,” he adds, and Ryan hums, the way he takes in a long breath picked up by the phone.
“So… Do you want to have lunch? Or brunch? Or maybe a coffee?” Ryan sounds almost nervous and Chad can’t possibly think what he would have to be nervous about. Perhaps Ryan had not understood the brunet forgave any indiscretion or disagreement or unpleasantness that had passed between them in the last ten years. Chad wants to speak and say as much, but he knows he will have time for that later on. For now, he says:
“Any of the above, yeah. Shall I pick you up in like an hour?”
He does just that, driving down the sun-warmed roads of Albuquerque and further out into the desert until he gets to the suburbs where Ryan’s parents have lived since forever. A random R&B playlist is playing and he turns down the music as he approaches the front of the house. Ryan is already standing on the steps, in front of the column framed double doors. Chad remembers the image of the Evans house intimidating him when he was a lower middle class kid coming over to steal smiling kisses off his boyfriend’s lips.
“Hey,” Ryan says as he climbs in, grabbing the seat belt to secure it.
“Hi, morning,” he replies, gaze fixated on Ryan’s smiling face. His car fills with the smell of whatever cologne Ryan is wearing, something clean and resembling the rarefied air up on a mountain. Chad almost leans in, wanting to get a lungful of the scent, but instead he turns his gaze towards the road as his foot pushes the acceleration pedal.
“How was your morning?” he asks, the R&B playlist a faint sound, and he hears Ryan’s sign above it. “What, that bad?” he chuckles, veering the car back onto the great expanse of road leading out of the suburbs and back into the heart of Albuquerque.
“No, no, I just… I mean, you know how me and Sharpay are freaks and wake up early no matter what, right?” Chad hums, a verbal nod to get Ryan to continue. “We went for a walk. Shar’s idea. Obviously . Basically a hike, if you ask me.” There is a complaining note in his voice, high and persistent. “So now I feel so tired. I guess I’m not hungover anymore, so her idea worked, but god…” His words are capped by a yawn, as if he’s demonstrating to Chad how really tired he is. All of the sudden, he’s both worried that perhaps Ryan should have spent his time catching up on sleep, while also warmed by the fact he still asked him out regardless of how tired he’s feeling. He feels like a compromise is in order and he says:
“Well, you can definitely nap now? Or later, when we come back?” He can feel Ryan’s circumspect gaze on him and he turns his head for a second to meet Ryan’s searching eyes. “What?”
“I’m just… Why would I want to do that?” Ryan asks, an incredulous smile on his face.
“Um… Because you need sleep? Because you’re tired? Because I’m a great driver and you could have a good nap?”
“Right, right, but… I… Well, I’m only in town for today and…” Chad is waiting for the sentence to get finished, but Ryan is quiet for a bit too long for him to be patient.
“And?” he prompts. Quiet again. Ryan is avoiding his gaze when he looks over to the blond, but a blush has coloured the side of his neck.
“And I want to spend as much time as possible with you,” Ryan finally says, quiet and almost embarrassed. Chad wants to stop the car and just take in the way Ryan looks like, shy yet determined. He can’t, though, he can’t give in to his impulses, despite the way his heart thuds. “Plus, I’ll get loads of sleep on the plane,” Ryan adds, sounding less sincere and yearning now, trying to infuse some amusement in his voice.
“Makes sense, yeah,” Chad mutters, feeling dumb and awestruck. They lapse into comfortable silence for a few minutes - at least it would be comfortable and calm if not for the speed at which his thoughts race through his head. He didn’t have the time to actually think, except for his shower, during which all he could do was replay the way Ryan’s face looked in the hazy, warm glow of the streetlight.
But now he has two minutes of time when he’s not thinking about what next to text Ryan or about how his throat feels dry from all the previous night’s cocktails no matter how much water he drinks. And the first thing his brain reaches for is panic. He needs to temper his assumptions. Yes , those ones - the ones that had him thinking he could somehow drag Ryan back into his circle like nothing happened, could somehow seduce the blond back into his arms and his bed, he could polish the version of events they went through in the past ten years and could somehow keep the good and throw away the things that at one point or another hurt them.
He can’t, however.
Ryan is not the same person. He isn’t the same person.
He needs to re-learn who Ryan is, if only because he thinks he might like to be friends with any version of Ryan there is.
So he starts with clearing his throat and asking:
“When’s your flight, then?”
“Oh. Eight o’clock, tonight. But I’m all packed and everything, so it should be easy. Sharpay is giving me a ride to the airport as well,” Ryan explains, reaching a hand to fiddle slightly with the volume of the music.
“She’s staying for longer?” Chad asks, guiding a curious gaze towards Ryan. “I mean in town. Doesn’t she have like a really important job in Hollywood?” He grins and Ryan rewards him with a chuckle, clear and warm and entirely too pretty for Chad to resist the allure of. Chad was only slightly facetious, given he actually once met Sharpay in the studio she works in, tailored suit on, an expression of pure professionalism and competence on her face.
“She might slap you if she hears you think she’s just… A Hollywood starlet or whatever. But yeah, she’s staying for a few more days, then she’s flying back to California.” Ryan pauses for a moment and then he says, almost startled by his own voice: “I’ll miss her.”
“I bet,” Chad responds, quietly. “I mean, my sister could do with a bit of space from me,” he starts, a chuckle in his voice, “but I wouldn’t want her whole states away from me.” A pause and then, in a warmer, softer tone, he adds. “I thought you guys wouldn’t ever live even in different houses, nevermind different states.”
“I know, right?” Ryan chuckles, but it doesn’t come out as if there is any humour in his voice. “That’s life for you,” he says, almost resigned. Chad wants to ask what else Ryan thinks life is. Does he think them not being together is life? Chad vehemently disagrees, if so. He’s been brought up on knowing your actions have consequences - both good and bad. He was brought up on the idea of black excellence and working your ass off for the things you want. Elbow grease, putting in the time, all that - it’s so antithetical to Chad’s being to just lie down and take a beating. He doesn’t say any of this, however. Their connection still feels too fragile.
“Have you thought of living somewhere closer to her?” he asks instead and watches Ryan fiddle with the AC vent in front of him. He knows that once upon a time, Ryan’s immediate answer would be ‘absolutely not’ - he would not have wanted to live anywhere that wasn’t New York. Chad feels sad about it - not really for his current self, but for his former self, who missed Ryan’s presence so terribly during those early years of their adulthood. Yet he also loved Ryan so deeply he could have never suggested he lived in a different city. But now Ryan is thoughtfully humming, thinking.
“Yeah, I have.” The words surprise Chad and he catches Ryan’s gaze for just a second before he turns his attention back to the road signs and the buildings they are passing and pedestrians which must not be run over. “I think I could do San Francisco. Not L.A., though,” Ryan says and Chad feels something curdle in his stomach. He doesn’t know if it’s envy or anger or something entirely new in the realm of feelings he’s had in his entire life. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sit right. He will ignore it for now, focusing his attention on guiding the car down a small street, buildings rising on both sides of it, awnings and clotheslines making shadows play on the windshield.
“Okay… Would you move there, though?” he asks, warmth evading his voice. He almost winces at the forcefulness of his question.
“I don’t know,” Ryan muses and Chad sees him looking out of the window. He wants to press - like he always does. He doesn’t have time as he’s slowing the purr of the car and parking. They're stopped in front of a small hole in the wall, with a faded green and yellow sign spelling ‘Rosita’s Table’.
“This is the best spot in town for breakfast burritos,” Chad provides, trying on a smile. When Ryan looks at him, he sees the blond’s features shift, melting under the effect of a grin. His eyes twinkle with something that almost looks like joy and Chad feels like his lungs stop working for a moment. He wants Ryan to smile again and again, until he gets his fill of it and he maybe doesn’t feel foolishly in awe with him anymore.
“The best in town, huh? Big words,” Ryan jokes, challenges almost.
“Yep. I stand behind them. If they’re not the best breakfast burritos you’ve ever had… Uh… Well, really, that won’t happen, so…” He trails off, a cheeky, amused grin on his face as he detaches the seatbelt from its snug place. He hears Ryan’s chuckle as Chad lets himself out, rounding the front of the car to open the door for his friend as well. The blond looks a tad surprised at the gesture, but then his features arrange themselves into the same pleasant, friendly expression - perhaps facade - Ryan has been wearing.
“After you,” Chad gestures, opening the door for the other man. The scent of fried food assaults them as Chad meanders through the small tables, towards a counter. A slushie machine is whirring on it, while a fan which has seen better days rests in a corner, sometimes blessing them with a wave of cold air.
“Morning,” Chad says, trying to peek behind and under the counter, before a woman’s head pops up, a smile already forming on her lips. She wears her hair in loose braids that fall on her chest, a floral wrap dress completed with an apron giving her the feel of an abuelita . She’s wearing bright purple lipstick, however, and she has big, dangling earrings that clink and jingle every time she moves head, an amalgamation of green and red and blue.
“Ah, guapo!” she exclaims, her eyes crinkling with a wide smile. “Welcome, welcome, how are you?” she says, wiping her hands on her apron.
“All good, Rosa,” Chad smiles, resting an elbow on the old, worn out counter. It feels slightly sticky under his palm. She finally seems to realise that besides Chad there is someone else in the shop now.
“Oh. Your friend?” she asks, pointedly looking at him. Chad shares a gaze with her, something silent and secret passing between them.
“Yes, a friend ,” he says, to mean that Ryan is indeed just a friend, and not a date. Rosa has watched him bring in his dates over the past three years (as few as they were), since he discovered the place one early morning after going on a run. “This is Ryan. Ryan, Rosa, Rosa, Ryan,” Chad says, making the introductions by pointing at the two other people in the shop except him.
“Hi,” Ryan says now, “lovely to meet you.” Rosa beams at the blond as she replies in kind and Chad thinks for a moment that Ryan feels a bit too overwhelmed with how friendly the older woman is.
“We’re here for your world famous burritos, of course,” he interjects, and he gets a dismissive wave from the worman.
“World famous my ass, chico,” she mutters, already starting to grab ingredients, before turning to Ryan. “You first, lindo, tell me, what do you want in yours? You’re my guest of honour, so whatever you want, and I’ll double the cheese.”
“What? What am I then, chopped liver?” Chad protests and the woman looks at him and makes a gesture with her hand as if to say ‘something like that’, shrugging slightly.
“Uh… Alright,” Ryan starts, before starting on the details of his perfect burrito. He doesn’t remember Ryan liking hot sauce, but he specifically asks for it in his meal. Chad can’t help but wonder what else he doesn’t know about Ryan. While this is something he would have every right to panic about, he finds that instead he is sort of… Excited. He looks forward to learning who Ryan is nowadays. Hot sauce and all. He draws the line at no sour cream, however, and he says so much. They end up having a short debate about the benefits of sour cream in a breakfast burrito - Chad claims it adds creaminess, Ryan is adamant it’s not ‘traditional’. Their debate is ended by Rosa putting down two plates for them, one presenting Ryan his sour cream-less burrito, while the other carries Chad’s usual for him.
“What drinks do you want, boys?” Rosa asks now, starting to clean up.
“Fanta Lemon,” they both say at the same time, prompting them to turn to look at each other.
“Still into it, huh?” Chad asks, a lopsided grin on his lips. Ryan nods, a sheepish smile offered as a response. Their Fantas are brought over by Rosa and Chad offers to carry both their plates to a table that is just in the path of the struggling fan so they can enjoy the occasional breeze. Ryan carries their drinks and sits across from Chad with a soft sigh. The fan’s breeze pushes at Ryan’s hair and it falls across his forehead and Chad becomes entirely too preoccupied with it for a few seconds, entirely taken with the urge, the desire to push it back in its place. Ryan doesn’t seem to mind or notice, however, engrossed in his first bite of burrito. He makes a low, growling sound at the back of his throat that traverses Chad like lightning and makes a shiver run up his spine. There is hot sauce at the corner of Ryan’s smiling mouth and Chad’s mouth is completely dry.
“This is so good,” Ryan says around another mouthful, eating with an appetite that seems to not find Chad. He chews at his own food, but the entire time his gaze is taken with all the details of Ryan, so close and unguarded and here. With him.
“It’s the best you’ve had, right?” Chad asks, if only to distract himself from his own problematic, unhelpful feelings.
“Hmm…” Ryan seems to measure his answer as he brings a napkin to his mouth to wipe it and then shrugs as he grabs his Fanta to open it. “I’ll concede. Yes, it is the best burrito I’ve had. Not breakfast burrito, but… Burrito. Full stop.” He marks his words with a big gulp of his soda and Chad can’t stop the too wide grin on his face.
“I’m glad,” he says, warmly, and watches Ryan watch him for a moment, as if the blond is deciding if Chad’s smile is real.
“Thanks,” Ryan says finally and something gentle and pleasant settles in Chad’s chest.
“Yeah, uh… No problem, it’s not like it’s a secret or whatever,” he speaks, bringing a nervous hand to his nape, before he reaches for his own drink, opening the can.
“No, I…” Ryan is chuckling now, a fond look in his eyes that makes Chad feel like he’s melting a bit. “I meant for uh… For coming out. Going through the effort,” Ryan clarifies and it’s the blond’s turn to seemingly feel flustered. Chad wants to say this is nothing, that this is just… Him. He just does these things. But that sounds too big headed so when he speaks he says:
“Yeah, of course. No problem, really.” Their gazes meet and there is a moment of silence, with only the buzz of the fan and the slushie machine cutting through.
“Does Rosa do takeaway?” Ryan finally says, leaning in conspiratorially and Chad feels a smile pull at his lips as he nods.
Once Ryan has ordered a burrito for each member of his entire family and Chad’s settled the bill, the boxer offers the blond a ride back to his parents’ place. There is a moment when he thinks Ryan might turn him down or suggest something else - a wishful part of him wants Ryan to ask him to spend more time together. But instead, Ryan accepts, a grateful smile and a ‘thank you’ on his lips.
The drive back feels shorter now somehow, despite passing the same buildings, the same desert, under the same sky as two hours earlier. Ryan is nursing the rest of his lemon Fanta, speaking about his job in New York when he’s prompted by Chad. He doesn’t sound like old Ryan talking about being on stage, but it seems like a good gig to Chad regardless. Ryan doesn’t ask him in return how his job is going. Chad is grateful for that.
There is a natural lull in the conversation and Chad glances next to him to ask Ryan what would be his recommendation for him to visit next time he’s in New York. He will have to be there for his appointment anyway - but now perhaps he will spend just a tad longer in the city, rather than drop in and immediately rush out. When Chad sees Ryan’s face, however, he is surprised to find the blond has dozed off.
Chad reaches over to grab the almost empty can of soda from his hands, putting it in the coffee cup holder between them. A small smile refuses to leave his lips for the rest of the ride. He entertains himself with the music, humming gently under his breath so as to not wake up the other man.
Only when he pulls up in front of the Evans residence does Chad dare to interrupt Ryan’s rest. He reaches over with a hand while the other undoes his own seat belt.
“Ryan,” he says, voice low, gentle. The blond takes in a breath, eyes fluttering open, his gaze hazy and confused for a moment, before his eyes widen, a panic-stricken expression on his features.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Chad, I-”
“Shush,” Chad says softly, stopping Ryan mid-sentence, his hand squeezing at Ryan’s warm leg. “Relax. It’s no big deal. I’m glad you rested,” he says and he watches Ryan’s sluggish mind catch up. There’s a scarlet blush that rises up his neck from under his collar and Chad can’t help but think of the many, many times he’s seen that flush extend to the blond’s chest, his cheeks, his ears.
“Thank you,” Ryan breathes, relief palpable in his voice, his shoulders relaxing. Chad realises his hand is still resting on Ryan’s leg and he takes it back, giving the blond a reassuring smile.
“No problem.”
Ryan looks at him for a moment longer, before undoing his seat belt. He takes that as a sign to get out of the car and go and open the door on Ryan’s side. The blond extricates himself from his car, pushing the door closed, the sheer plastic bag with burritos in it dangling from his hand.
“Thank you, again. For today, I mean,” Ryan speaks again, meeting his gaze. The sun is in Chad’s eyes and he needs to squint slightly, but even so he sees Ryan close the space between them to wrap his arms around him. The burritos are still warm in the bag against his side. Close like this, Ryan smells like rain and shampoo and he presses him even closer to his own body, until their chests are touching and he can feel Ryan’s breath against his nape.
“You will call?” he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, something pleading and scared in his words.
“I promise,” Ryan says and his breath is warm and humid against his skin and he hopes Ryan doesn’t feel the useless thud of his heart.
“Okay,” he breathes and starts leaning away from the blond. When he sees Ryan’s face again, the flush from his neck has now migrated to his cheeks. He looks radiant like this, basking in the bright sun of the autumn, his golden hair shining, his blue eyes warm and inviting.
In this moment, Chad thinks he might always love Ryan a little.
But what he says is:
“Have a safe flight, okay?”
“I will. I’ll text you,” Ryan promises and starts stepping away from Chad’s body and towards the door. Chad turns after him, like a sunflower following the sunlight, basking in the warmth of Ryan’s presence until he can’t anymore. “Drive safely back, yeah?” Ryan says, walking backward, a hand brought to his forehead to shield him from the sun in his eyes, a grin on his face.
“Will do, Ryan. See you soon!” Chad tries not to look pathetic as he watches Ryan give him a nod and a last wave, before turning and walking towards the house, crunching under his light steps the white gravel in the Evans’ driveway.
Only once Ryan is climbing the few stairs to the door does Chad start to walk back to the driver seat and, at the corner of his eye, he swears he sees movement at one of the windows on the second floor. When he looks properly, however, he doesn’t see anything, so he gets in the car and starts the drive back through the desert.