Here's chapter nine, again I apologize for the shortness. Huge thanks to my reviewers: endiahna and Patricia16. Read, Review, Enjoy.
He stirred, moaning. Damn he hurt. He blinked, and tried to focus, but the world merely spun around him, making him feel nauseous, so he closed his eyes again and lay back until it passed. His chest ached fiercely. He coughed, that hurt worse. So he stopped moving. He simply lay there, absorbing the many places where pain raced through his body.
Slowly, the pain began to lower at least to a tolerable level and he became a bit more aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the heavy stench of alcohol. He was still in Professor Scott's room. He tried opening his eyes again, this time with better results, and found himself sprawled on the bed. Dimly he remembered being on the floor when he'd passed out, at least Scott had had the decency to move him, although perhaps Warren was overestimating his noble intentions and decency wasn't the right word. Either way.
He groaned, attempting to sit up and only half succeeding. A gasp caught in his throat despite himself as he glanced down over his own naked body in the cheery sunlight streaming in through the curtains over the window. His entire chest was mottled in brilliant shades of green, yellow, purple, blue, red, and even some black. It looked as though a painter had decided to turn Warren's body into a masterpiece, or something to clean his brushed out on.
Feeling nauseous again, Warren was forced to sink weakly back down onto the bed. He sighed, finding himself wishing he was still unconscious, and glanced absently around the room. His eyes landed on the clock. It was 1:49 in the afternoon.
He shot straight up, and leapt halfway out of bed, immediately regretting the impulsive move and nearly passing out again from the waves of nausea and pain that racked his body. He'd slept all day! He'd missed nearly a whole day of classes! He was going to be in so much trouble.
The room swam before his eyes as he stumbled around the room, clinging desperately to anything he could in order to keep himself on his feet. He struggled to find his clothes and put them on. His breath came in short, painful gasps, his chest ached, his vision swirled and burred, and he found that he was shaking from cold.
At last he managed to get all of his clothes on properly. He stumbled to the door, but paused and turned to the window instead. He wasn't so sure that flying was really a smart idea just then, but as he heard footsteps and laughing voices not far beyond the door, he decided that the risk was worth avoiding anything seeing him leaving Professor Scott's room, at such an odd time of the day too.
He gasped, almost crying out at the pain searing through him as he flapped his wings. But he clenched his teeth and forced himself to move, flying as quickly as he could to his own window. He almost missed his footing as he tried to land on the ledge, his vision fading in and out of focus, but he managed to catch himself just in time and all but fell into his room.
He stumbled towards his bed, but changed direction quickly as he felt like he was going to throw up. But he didn't make it to the bathroom; instead he fell to his knees a good three feet yet from the door and retched violently. When at last he was done he practically had to drag himself to the bed and at last managed to collapse onto it, panting.
He grabbed the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed and snuggled under it. As he closed his eyes he felt gravity slowly leaving, as he slipped farther and farther away into gently, comforting emptiness.
