A/N: SURPRISE! :D I was bored in class, what was I supposed to do? The song I used is called Chances by Five for Fighting. I suddenly fell in love with it. I thought it was suitable for the story, what'd you think? Thanks for reading and don't forget to review, loves ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: A simple act of kindness reveals so much more. Only if you took chances to understand what's truly important to you. Tyson found this out while when Hilary's words caught him off guard.

Chances

Tyson was in awe the moment Kenny finished his sentence. Was it even possible? The navy-haired teens' eyebrows furrowed, expressing he was in mid thought. Kenny sighed; he may just have to repeat himself. After all, speaking to Tyson was never easy.

"Like I said: Hilary has a fever. And yes Tyson, it's possible for slave drivers to be sick."

Well, this was unusual; the thought of Hilary not here to boss him around was… was… awesome! Heck, he could do anything he wished to! No more complaints, whines and newly formed bumps and bruises on his skull! Ugh, all those times Hilary smacked him with inanimate objects took their toll. Tyson swore his skull was fractured by now.

Just before Tyson opened his mouth, Kenny cut in, "I think we should visit her,"

Tyson's mouth formed a perfect 'O'. "Whaaat? Whyyy?"

"Because she's our friend."

The World Champ was defeated. Arms in the air, he surrendered. Riding off the sense of victory, Kenny urged Tyson to leave the sanctuary of his dojo, venturing toward the dragon's den—erm, Hilary's house. The boys left the dojo making their way down empty suburban streets. A gentle breeze passed them as they walked together embracing the silence; no vehicles drove by, no sounds of screaming children or even the slightest sound of disturbance was heard.

Reaching downtown, the duo was bombarded with a colorful spectrum of sounds. It was difficult to register where each sound originated from. Kenny was the one who hated, no, despised noise pollution more than anybody! The little boy's strides tripled, quickly making his way across the street right before the sidewalk's light turned red.

Following behind with hands behind his head, Tyson stopped by a small florist shop on the corner. Tilting his head, he knew girls liked flowers but the question remained: what kind? Surely he wouldn't get her roses! Yuck! It's all mushy and with much detective work, he knew guys who give girls flowers were when they were in a relationship. The thought of him and Hilary in a (stable?) relationship scared him.

Yeah, like that'll happen. You can guarantee World War III and IV… possibly V, VI and VII.

The next flower Tyson set his gaze on was purple orchids. They looked nice but they had no scent. Meh. No point in giving flowers to a girl that had no scent; by the point, might as well give her a fake flower. Tyson laid eyes on his next option: a baby palm tree. Yeah, no.

What a silly thought, a palm tree! Tyson chuckled to himself.

A cactus? The small, cute and prickly plant in a red pot with a satin white bow tied around it. Kenny stood by his side shuffling his glasses. Hopefully the World Champ wasn't thinking of buying a cactus, knowing his odd sense of humor.

"Flowers for a special someone?" the sales lady asked, emerging from around the stand.

"Yes!" Tyson replied and instantly paused. Quickly shaking his head in embarrassment, he corrected himself, "N-No! God no!"

Time for Kenny to save him. "Our friend is ill."

"Ah," the raven-haired lady spun around with her back facing the boys. They watched her hands move all around as one arm stretched to the side. Tyson caught a glimpse of an ivory ribbon.

Facing the boys again, they were in awe; roses, arranged in a beautiful bouquet were presented to them, rose colors ranging from white to crimson. He couldn't peel his eyes from the bouquet, surrounded by shiny, glossy silver paper and golden stars. Wrapped around the middle of it was the ivory ribbon he spotted earlier.

"I don't know about you Chief but I like this!"

The boys walked for another ten minutes before Tyson stopped suddenly in his tracks forcing Kenny to walk right into Tyson's back. Smacking his forehead, Tyson snapped around frantically speaking in tongues. Kenny could barely grasp what Tyson said until he shoved the bouquet into Kenny.

"I'll meet you at Hil's house in a bit! See ya!" and there he goes, dashing off into the sea of people.

Tyson returned thirty minutes later with a bright yellow paper bag. Kenny narrowed his eyes questioning the contents of the bag.

Pointing he asked, "What's that?"

"Groceries for Grandpa,"

Breaking eye contact, Tyson pushed the doorbell. From the other side, they heard a voice yelling, "Coming!" A tall, short haired brunette woman opened the door. No doubt about it, it was Hilary's mother. The boys bowed respectively greeting her.

"We're here to see Hilary," Kenny said politely. He lifted up the flowers. "We bought these."

"That's very sweet of you, Tyson!"

Tyson? Kenny looked at Mrs. Tachibana quizzically. He glanced over to the real Tyson and shrugged.

The real Tyson looked at Kenny then at Mrs. Tachibana. She removed the bouquet from Kenny's small hands, entranced by the rosy fragrance. Kenny was about to correct her but she gestured them to enter.

"Come, come in! Welcome!"

Removing their shoes, they entered. They listened to the things Mrs. Tachibana said about Tyson without knowing the real Tyson stood there in plain sight. The real Tyson didn't utter a single sound; unusually he kept his mouth shut and for once, listened. The comments ranged from: "Hilary tells me you're very annoying," "Hilary said you're a hothead!" "You can probably win in an eating contest!" and last but not least, "Tyson is a very good, no, great blader! Extremely passionate about the sport!" Kenny glanced over to Tyson whose face was as red as a tomato magnet on the fridge. The World Champ was embarrassed! Just the last comment though; the previous comments didn't count! The boys sat down at the kitchen table while Mrs. Tachibana placed the bouquet into a ceramic vase.

"I'm so happy you came to visit," she said moving a white rose to the left of the vase while shifting a red rose to the right. "Hilary's friends are all busy and none of them can make it. I'm really happy she has great friends like you two,"

The boys sat in silent until Hilary's mother gave them the rose filled vase.

"Here," she smiled. "Hilary's room is up those stairs and two doors to the left."

The boys thanked her, making their way out the kitchen, up the stairs and down the hallway. They arrived, standing in front of Hilary's room. Tyson suddenly broke out into cold sweat; he continued to think this was the dragon's den! Behind this fragile wooden door was the sleeping dragon! Quickly shaking those thoughts out of his head, his sweaty palm moved to the brass doorknob, turning it gently. A click echoed. Tyson, as quietly as he could, pushed the door open. His imagination took him on a rollercoaster ride; he envisioned a fire breathing dragon known as Hilary who at any moment would pounce on him, ripping him to shreds with her curved claws. So far, that didn't happen. Sleeping peacefully on the bed was Hilary. Just Hilary, not a fire breathing dragon.

Tyson took a step forward. His eyes were suddenly fixed on her small, fragile, breathing form. Hilary had a small damp cloth over her forehead. Her cheeks were red and she breathed through her mouth.

"Tyson,"

He turned around. Why was Kenny by the door? Kenny's arms extended, giving Tyson the ceramic vase.

"What are you doing over here?" Tyson asked, taking the vase away from Kenny. The small boy rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Something wrong?"

"Ermm… I never told you this but… Oooh, how do I say this?"

"Just spit it out!" Tyson hissed.

"I'm afraid of germs!"

"Say what?"

Kenny was a germaphobe.

"Are you bailing on me?" Tyson whispered. At any minute now Hilary could wake up and rip him to shreds!

"Um… yes? A-Anyway, I have work to do!" by 'work' Kenny meant 'I'm ditching you. Good luck and see you later!'

Before Tyson even countered, the little boy ran down the stairs. Tyson sighed, hanging his head. He closed the door, turning his attention back to Hilary. Now what was he supposed to do? She was fast asleep, oblivious to his presence. His mind may have no idea what it was supposed to do but his legs did. Having a mind of their own, they moved Tyson to the edge of Hilary's bed. He plopped himself down on the beige carpet eyes still fixed on her. He watched her breath gently, gazing over to her chest rising up and down.

He never realized a small smile formed on his lips. Maybe she's not so bad… when she's quiet.

Tyson watched Hilary sleep for the next hour, removing the cloth off her forehead every thirty minutes, soaking it with cold water before placing the newly damp cloth back onto her forehead. Maybe it was his imagination but he noticed her face softened; she was more relaxed. Tyson sighed, leaning against the bed facing the striped wallpapered wall.

"It's been crazy hasn't it?" he spoke quietly. He didn't mind if she heard him or not; he wanted to voice out the things he had within. "Everything that's been happening until now."

Two years passed since the BEGA incident. Needless to say within a span of two short years, the entire group grew up. Everybody had their own lives to deal with, more responsibilities on their plate. Their lives weren't as carefree as before. Tyson removed his cap, placing it on the floor and leaned his head onto the mattress. He too, grew up. Right now he was seventeen but still, not much has changed. Sure, he grew a good three to four inches, his voice was slightly lower but man, the amount of testosterone and adrenaline in him was infinite! Of course, he used this infinite supply for blading matches! He was glad his passion for beyblading never died. Nobody ridiculed him for it, even though he was older now. He'd still participate in local tournaments but most of the time, he was there to encourage the new generation, the next beyblading stars.

"You've changed too, Hilary."

Indeed she did. Hilary grew into a beautiful woman; her brown hair was much longer, reaching the middle of her back. The hair in front framed her face perfectly and don't get him started on her bangs. For once, he wanted to know how it felt like brushing bangs away from a girl's face. He turned around staring at Hilary again. The bangs were covering her eyes. His hand slowly, cautiously reached out to her face brushing away the bangs aside with the tips of his fingers.

Hilary groaned. Tyson recoiled, quickly ducking expecting a pillow in the face. Nothing came.

"Ty… son."

Peering over the mattress, Hilary was still asleep. He noticed she slightly turned her head toward his direction.

"Ty… son."

Was she dreaming of him? Standing on his knees, he leaned over to hear what else she had to say.

"Would you… take me…"

Take you where?

She groaned again, eyebrows furrowed. Her breathing rapidly increased. Tyson noticed her fingers tensed, gripping onto the blanket tightly. Without thinking, his hands reached out, embracing hers. He didn't know what he was supposed to do but right now, this was the only thing he could do; keep her at peace. She gripped on his hand tighter before slowly, her grip loosened. Her breathing returned to its normal pace.

You scared me there. He reached out to the cloth on her forehead, removing it and gently wiped sweat away from around her face.

He glanced down at their hands locked together. A strange feeling suddenly washed over him; it felt warm and… something else he couldn't describe. He wasn't sure if he ever had feelings for the girl except when they were in a heated argument over petty little matters (e.g. his awful eating habits). But there was this one time when he remembered doing the unthinkable; both of them were in an argument over some stupid thing he did. This was probably two weeks ago. Regardless, the argument grew louder and louder to the point he couldn't take it anymore! Possibly the worse move, he grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her.

Remembering what he did, his hand shook slightly. He still didn't understand why he did that. From then on, Hilary kept her distance away from him. He felt isolated; hurt even but it was the way things were. He made the first move and she… rejected him. His heart echoed like drums in his chest, ramming against his ribcage. Gods, why was he thinking about this now? Sleeping right here, right now was his childhood friend. The one he cared for… a lot.

Just a friend.

Shaking his head, he slipped his hand away from hers.

"Take me… to the dance?" she asked while her eyes remained closed.

Chances are when said and done
Who'll be the lucky ones
Who make it all the way?
Though you say I could be your answer
Nothing lasts forever
No matter how it feels today

He froze. His heart echoed even louder this time, now echoing in his ears. Shaking his head again, it was all mumbo jumbo! She was still fast asleep but somehow, he found truth in those words. Thinking carefully, there were times Hilary walked up to him and right before she was about to ask him something, she blushed and shrugged it off. Rubbing the back of his neck, he too was going to ask her to the dance but the words never came out. God, why was this so hard? Why was he thinking about all of this now? Maybe it was time to set things right…

Chances are we´ll find a new equation
Chances roll away from me
Chances are all they hope to be

Don't get me wrong I'd never say never
Cause though love can change the weather
No act of God can pull me away from you

Right now, the moment was his; it was his chance to ask. Tyson breathed, holding her hand once more. He sat on the edge of the bed staring at her beautifully sculpted face imaging her reaction when she woke up. Smiling, his thumb stroked the back of her hand, feeling her soft skin beneath his touch.

I´m just a realistic man
A bottle filled with shells and sand
Afraid to love beyond what I can lose when it comes to you
And though I see us through yeah

"Hilary," Tyson said aloud. "Would you like to go to the dance with me?"

Chances are we´ll find two destinations
Chances roll away from me
Still chances are more than expectations
The possibilities
Over me

Hilary slowly opened her eyes; her right hand was warm as if someone held it the entire time. A smile formed on her lips but she wasn't sure why. Her eyes moved to the hand and to her surprise, there was another hand in hers. A blush crept on her cheeks as her eyes followed the hand, the arm and then to the person who sat watching over her with a smile.

Eight to five, two to one
Lay your money on the sun
Until you crash what have you done?
Is there a better bet than love?
What you are is what you breathe
You gotta cry before you sing

"Hey,"

Chances, chances

This was probably the last person Hilary expected to see. Not quite sure what to make of her emotions, she slowly pushed herself up as the cloth on her forehead dropped into her lap. Her face burned out of pure embarrassment. Her first reaction was to spill out profanities at him but she couldn't. She just couldn't this time. Nothing came to mind! Right now, Tyson Granger was holding her hand. Hilary didn't know what to do! Without a second to spare, Tyson pulled her into a hug, arms tightly wrapped around her.

"Yes," he said softly into her ear.

"Yes to what?"

"You asked me to the dance so here's my reply: Yes."

Hilary turned a shade redder. Did… she just mumble that in her sleep or was it one of Tyson's pranks? No, it didn't feel like a prank; he said it in his most sincere voice. She pushed him away keeping them at an arm's length.

Now it was his turn. Taking a chance he asked, "Please answer me truthfully: Hilary, would you like to go to the dance with me?"

Chances lost are hopes torn up pages
Maybe this time…

Moving a strand of hair behind her ear, she considered her answer. Never in a million years had she thought he would ask her.

Lifting up her face, Hilary smiled, "Yes!"

Chances are we´ll be the combination
Chances come and carry me
Chances are waiting to be taken
And I can see

Sparks lit up between the two, resurrecting hiding feelings. Both sides blushed, trying to make the best of the situation. Here they sat together, hand in hand, eye to eye. With no words exchanged except smiles, each knew what the other one thought. Hilary's eyes slightly watered but she quickly wiped them with the blanket; now was not the time to be a drama queen! She was overwhelmed with happiness she needed a moment to absorb everything. She must admit; all these years she thought Tyson's head was possibly as dense as granite but seeing his gestures today and his sincerity, the image of a hardheaded Tyson shattered into dust.

Her eyes suddenly flickered, feeling the urge to sleep. A yawn escaped her lips before it was replaced by a smile. She leaned back down. Her eyelids now heavy, demanding to be swept into the land of dreams. And just like that, she was out like a light. Tyson removed himself from the edge of the bed and sat on the floor holding her hand. He too, succumbed to yawning; sleepy tears formed on the corners of his eyes forcing his eyes to become heavier and heavier and…

Chances are the fascination
Chances won't escape from me
Chances are only what we make them
And all I need…

From that day, Hilary had a small cactus sitting on her windowsill in a small red pot, wrapped in a satin white bow. Beside it was a small 'Get Well' card with Tyson's writing inside. Behind the cactus was a silver, floral picture frame with a photograph of them arm in arm, taken at the dance. Both took a chance—a leap of faith bringing them happiness for years to come.