a/n - thanks to everyone who’s been reading and reviewing this. This is for trash, red and missb (thank you for the graphic <3) oh and it's midnight here.

13.

“You’re what?”

“It’s only for a week.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not staying with him.”

“Oh come on, you’re being stupid.”

“I’m not. I don’t need looking after.”

“Mike I caught you emptying your pills down the sink yesterday.”

You don’t have an answer to that and childishly you cross your arms over your chest and let out a loud sigh. Brad just stares back and shakes his head in disbelief. He finishes zipping his suitcase then shoves his cell phone into his back pocket.

“I barely get to see my Mom,” He sighs, “And she’s never been out of the country, I think this…”

“It’s not that,” You sigh, “I just think I’m ready to go home. Alone. I’ll be fine.”

Brad shakes his head, “No Mike. It’s arranged. I’m going to Spain for a week and you’re going to Chester’s.”

This was hardly the start you wanted to your day. You can feel yourself hyperventilating at the sheer thought of it and in the back of your mind you’ll bet your life savings that Chester-fucking-Bennington even suggested Brad take his dear mother on holiday for the week.

“Mike don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” You huff, “And stop making me feel like some fucking child. I can take care of myself and…”

You stop as the doorbell rings.

“It’s unlocked man!” Brad calls, walking right past you and into the lounge.

You stare at his suitcase, wonder for a moment if you could fit inside it. Then you stare at the large, brown box that Brad has shoved your belongings into. Then you stare at the kitchen door that leads into the garden because you could walk out; run away and not have to spend the next week with Chester who Brad has deemed the best friend who will look after Michael.

The thing is you have no key. Brad has even taken away your fucking house key after he found you trying to make an escape back home the other morning. You told him that ‘no offence, he was smothering you’ but Brad was having none of it and really laid into you when he saw that you’d been picking at the stitches in your arm.

“Hey buddy.”

You turn around as Chester slaps his hand against your shoulder the way a footballer, perhaps, would greet a team mate. You don’t even flinch because after Chester’s daily visits for the past week you’ve surprisingly managed to master the art of not moving an inch when any part of his body comes into contact with yours. You’ve decided ignorance might deter him; that soon he’ll get bored of your coldness and lack of acknowledgement. Deep down you know that ignorance will be erased as soon as Chester has you alone and has his clammy hands searching all over your body.

“So, all Mike’s things are in here,” Brad walks back into the room, pointing at the box, “And his meds are in here,” He pauses and pats a large paper bag fresh from the chemists, “And make sure he lets you clean up his arm at least every couple of days and…”

“Am I invisible?” You laugh, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

“Dude chill,” Chester smiles, “Brad’s just concerned. We all are. Christ, it’s not every day that your best friend tries to kill himself and won’t even explain why.”

Brad pales. You probably do as well.

“Look I…”

You don’t wait around and have walked off before Brad has chance to finish what he was about to say. The fresh air outside feels good and you sit on the narrow wall that runs along the front of Brad’s neatly kept driveway, hands tying themselves in knots. What the fuck are you going to do?

Time is clearly not on your side as Brad and Chester come out of the house carrying your things between them and packing them into the trunk of Chester’s car. You stare across the street, eyes fixated on the Persian cat that is stretched out on a neighbours perfected lawn, licking at its paws and basking in the sun.

“You ready?”

Brad sits down beside you and nudges you. He wears this big, dopey grin and you think about how many times that exact expression has made your day lift or made you stop yourself from hating him when he’s really pissed you off.

“Don’t be mad Mike,” He sighs, “I just want to know you’re in safe hands because we both know that at this moment in time you’re not in the right frame of mind to be on your own.”

You shrug and glance down at the palms of your hands. They’re all sticky and clammy and it’s not because of the baking hot climate, more because of the anxiety and utter fear that is enveloping your entire being.

Please stay.

“Come on,” Brad smiles, “I’ll send you a postcard.”

Please don’t go.

Brad stands up and holds out his arm and for some stupid reason you take his hand and follow him over to Chester’s car. He’s holding the passenger door open for you and makes some lewd comment just out of Brad’s earshot when you reluctantly get in and sit down. The door slams shut and you pull on your seatbelt. A few minutes later Chester gets in beside you, switching on the AC as he slams the door and shoves the key in the ignition.

He pushes a switch and the doors click, hiss and lock.

Brad waves as Chester steers the car out of his driveway and reverses onto the road.

You close your eyes.

You’re crying again.

+

“So, are you hungry?”

Chester asks you this just nanoseconds after you’ve stepped inside his house - the house that until recently you actually considered your second home.

Having watched him lock the front door you gaze around the lounge. It looks just the same. Blinds hang at the windows that you helped him pick; carpet covers the floor that you helped him pick and the painting you gave him hangs proudly from the wall. The only thing that’s changed are the people inside the room.

“Sit down,” Chester tells you, “I’ve got plenty of food in,” His voice drifts off as he walks into the kitchen leaving you motionless and cold in the centre of the room.

“Pancakes? Pizza? Pop tarts? Fries?” Chester appears in the doorway holding a box of potato waffles, “I bet you’re starving. I know you’ve probably not eaten any of Brad’s health freak food. I honestly don’t know why he bothers, I mean he’ll only go back to eating burgers and fried breakfasts and chips when we start touring again. So! Welcome to white trash junk food heaven,” He laughs, “Or we can order takeout? There’s this amazing new Thai place that’s opened a couple of blocks away, you’d love it,” He pauses, “Mike?”

You stare back, tears meandering down your cheeks a-fucking-gain.

“Hey,” Chester walks over, concern in his eyes, “Sweetie what’s the matter?”

You shake your head. He puts the waffle box down on the coffee table and tilts his head, eyes scrutinizing you when you swat away your salty tears.

“Come here,” He whispers, voice soft and touch soothing when his arms slip around your waist and he pulls you into an embrace.

It’s all in my mind, you tell yourself as you lean into him, hesitantly looping your shaking arms around his body.

It was just a nightmare, the voice in your head whispers gently, it’s over now.

But then your eyes see the deep cuts on your arm and you pull away sharply.

“I’ll make us some of these, see what else I can conjure up,” Chester smiles, picking up the box, “I’ll call you when it’s ready.

You’re left staring at the wet ring on the coffee table left from the icy waffle box. Then you turn and sit down and your brain feels like it’s covered in fog as you try so hard to remember the past few months, asking yourself, was it just a nightmare?

+

TBC…