Love At Gunpoint

Chapter 5

What the hell was wrong with him?

Letting out yet another aggravated groan, he ran a hand through his dark brown hair, messing it up yet again in frustration. He had been like this for the past few days, since... since the whole shooting incident with Rose.

Bloody hell, that girl was freaking insane.

And still, he hadn't been able to wipe the slate of his mind clean of the memory. That of holding the cold, metallic gun in his hand, the sudden shock when it seemingly burst out of his hold with an ear-shattering bang. Over and over again, he replayed that time in his mind, when he was seemingly on a mini rampage, as he shot repeatedly at the walls simply to let off some steam. Steam that didn't seem like steam because it didn't simply puff up and rise into the air - it exploded.

And shit, it scared him.

Greyson Chance was a good boy. Greyson Chance was an amazing musician that thousands looked up to and millions of girls swooned over. Greyson Chance was inspirational, innocent, morally grounded, and the kind of guy any mother would approve, who always held himself together.

Greyson Chance did not touch guns, much less condone them, and much, much less shoot just like any other unfeeling Charlie's Angel.

He had never been like that before.

What was this place... this girl... doing to him?

Suddenly, the blare of his phone ringing pierced through the silence and his thoughts, making him jump as a result of the knotted tension that had been in him ever since this entire mess had started. Fear gripped his heart. What if it was the stalker again?

Risking a glance, he heaved a huge sigh of relief at the caller ID. Though she wasn't someone he was particularly fond of, anyone was better than the stalker. He picked up the call.

"Serene?"

A warning sign flashed in his head when she didn't reply.

"Serene?" he repeated, stressing more on his tone.

Finally, he could hear her short breaths. But something was definitely wrong. Serene always talked. Probably the only times she was silent was when she was sleeping.

"Greyson," she finally voiced, her tone shaky.

"What's wrong?" He immediately asked.

"I..." he heard her stifle a sob. "I can't do this anymore."

"You can't do what anymore?" He held his phone even closer and tighter. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't..." she choked out. "I can't be with you anymore."

Silence.

"Oh," was all he said after a long beat. "Why?"

"She'll kill me."

His blood froze.

"What?"

"She'll kill me, Greyson!" She finally cried out in an outburst. "She said so herself! She called me, she said she knew everything about me, she said that you will ultimately be hers, and she said nobody would stand in her way - me included!"

Greyson swore, punching the wall with a trembling fist.

"Greyson," her voice quivered. "You... you know I love you, right? I really do. But I can't... we can't... not when it's so dangerous. Maybe after the whole thing boils over, we could... you know? Just not now. I love you, Greyson, I love you."

He hung up on her.

Grabbing his pistol, he stormed out of his room, slamming the door shut. The few people that were straggling around in the corridoors stared after him in curiosity, but dared not provoke him at all, jumping out of his way. He made his way to the open field behind the secluded A.F. Shadow building.

For some reason, he didn't feel the same sympathy he always did for her, that had kept him with her all this time. Her proclamations of love meant nothing for him, and he really wanted to feel bad, but he couldn't. His mind didn't want to ponder about why he wasn't sad or angry that the relationship was over, why he had stayed with her all this time if he didn't really feel anything for her. He was quite sure that her definition of 'love' was off as well.

But all the same, she had been someone who had always been by his side, and he had taken advantage of that.

And even though he should feel guilty for that, it wasn't guilt that marched around his heart now.

It was anger.

He flung the back door open and, upon seeing several targets situated at different spots around on the field, fired shots at them.

"Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

He spun around in the direction of the drawl. There stood Rose, leaning casually against the wall near the door, in a dark grey tank top and cargo-print shorts. Rolling his eyes, he turned away from her, cocking his gun.

Already, he was getting used to brandishing such a weapon. What was happening to him? Did he even want to care?

No, he decided, at least not at the moment. Heck, he was mad. He just needed to let off some steam.

That in itself was an irony, if it was taken into consideration what exactly had made him that angry. That this entire situation had turned his whole life upside down, that had changed everything he had known.

Including himself.

Or had he really...?

"So what stepped on your tail?"

He nearly jumped, not noticing that while he was thinking Rose had pushed off the wall and was now circling him in curiosity. Seeing him snap back to reality, she snorted, walking off a little way, the trigger guard of the pistol she was holding spinning around her index finger, held up high like she was spinning a basketball on her fingertip. He stared after her back, her long dark hair cascading down the noticeable arch of her back, as she continued.

"I mean, I know you sorta blew up in my face a few days ago, but it's not very often we see you, the goody-goody boy, out like this."

At her mention of the incident a few days ago, he grew even more irritated. How could she sound so cavalier about everything? Didn't she care about anything at all?

"Let me guess, your little girlfriend broke up with you."

His jaw fell to the ground.

She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking at his reaction. "How did I know? Easy. People get that emotional when they lose someone important to them."

"She's not..." he murmured.

"Oh, give me a break. How can you let something so tiny disrupt everything in you?"

He glared at her. "Don't push my buttons, Rose -"

"Or what?" She sneered, turning back and walking to him menacingly. "Can you deny what I said? People leave all the time! Get over it, wimp!"

"What did you say I was?" His voice dropped to a low sibilance, getting in her face. For someone almost a head shorter than him, she sized herself up against him quite well. She didn't seem the least bit intimidated by him.

"Wimp," she spat. "Learn to let people get to you and you're a weakling."

"You know nothing about me!" He roared in her face.

"Neither you, me," she snarled back. With that, she spun on her heel and left the place, the door closing with a loud bang behind her.

Greyson let out a string of curse words.