8. Keeping Up With The Chances

                                    

                                          
[A/N]
                          
I had trouble sleeping last night so I actually slept around 5 in the bloody morning and wake up around 10. Yes, I only had five hours of sleep. Y'all are probably wondering why I'm telling you this—- well, this will affect the way my mind runs. Meaning, I won't be able to proofread this chapter and the rest of the chapters as well. I will try to correct the grammars tonight or tomorrow. If you've read this far, you are so cool, those ice cubes are jealous. I love you x
                          
Ps, this is just part one. Part two will be in chapter nine (:
                          
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Greyson and I carried a decent conversation until I felt the heaviness welling up inside me again. I have ignored it for the past few minutes but it keeps getting worse as time passes by. Greyson looks at me warily from time to time, so I know that he had an inkling about my condition too.
                          
Rubbing my temples for a second time, I looked up at the sky only to regret the sudden emissions that greeted me. I hissed and cussed inwardly. 
                          
"Are you really sure that you're alright, [Yn]?" Greyson asked, his voice tint with worry.
                          
"Yeah," I nod my head and winced at the pain it caused, "I think."
                          
He scoffed and scooted closer. "I don't think so." With that, he reached his hand out and touched my forehead with the back of his hand. Frowning, he proceeded to touch my neck and held my hands. "You're burning with fever, and your hands are as cold as ice. How come you didn't tell me that you're not feeling well?"
                          
Is he for real? What is this? Is Greyson Chance concerned?
                          
I took a moment to study his face. His eyebrows were drawn together in a chockfull frown, his lips are pursed in a straight line, and his eyes were clouded with worry and censure. His lips started moving to formulate words but all I seem to see is balls of air coming out from his mouth and hear nothing but my own heavy breathing.
                          
"....listening to me, [Yn]?" He queried urgently.
                          
I blinked in response. Without a second thought, he got up from where he was sitting and pulled me up. I grumbled some incoherent protests but he seem to ignore them. He then proceeded to carry me (piggy back style).
                          
"I'm heavy.." I mumbled weakly into his ears, my head dipping lowly at the back of his neck.
                          
He visibly stiffened at the touch but gradually relaxed after five seconds. Yeah, I can count. "You weigh like a cotton ball. Now, just rest. I'm taking you home."
                          
I lift my head up ever so slowly to check in my surroundings. "You don't even know where I live."
                          
With that, he abruptly halt from his tracks and cursed quietly. I chuckled and buried my head back on his neck. He stood still for a while but then after a few minutes, he began to walk on the other direction.
                          
"Where are you taking me?" I asked feebly, my voice dripped with fear and doubt. "You're not going to decapitate me, are you? If you will, I will come back from the dead and force feed my intestines to you."
                          
He laughed in response. "We're going somewhere and no, you're lucky I don't live in a slaughterhouse."
                          
"Oh, joy." I slurred sarcastically.
                          
***
                          
I heard the sound of a door opening and a voice speaking but I am too lazy to lift my head up and find out who it was. This time, I wouldn't give a toss if Greyson Chance really lives in a slaughterhouse. The only thing that I care about is my head-splitting headache.
                          
"Well, this is not what I am quite expecting." The voice said.
                          
I hear Greyson mumbled back a response and the voice, who seems to belong to a woman, laughed. I groaned weakly, sluggishly loosening my grip on Greyson's neck. He must've sense my struggle when he pushed past the woman and carefully placed me on a big couch.