Okay, first I don't know where I got the name from...I just thought it'd be pretty cool XD This idea came to me when I was watching a TV show and the someone in it said the very first line of this story XDD Inspiration comes from the strangest places o.O I had too much fun writing this (although I was sort of in my own world and my friends scared the shit out of me...that's another story) Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read. Hope you enjoy :) Oh, and it's short because it's sort of like an...intro chapter? Further chapters will be longer...promise :)

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“You are fucking amazing…” the junior smiled, falling back onto the bed where he had just had the best sex of his life. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a sweaty mess.

Mike Shinoda wiped a sheet of sweat from his brow, a smug smile crossing his face, “I’ve been told.” he said pulling himself to his feet and fixing the creases on his shirt, which he had refused to remove.

“You won’t tell your dad about what I did…right?” the older student asked, still panting. Mike shrugged, “The chances are high that it will slip my mind…however if you are to tell anyone of this little…meeting…I might just remember.” he said, his accent much more posh compared to the older boy.

An awkward silence filled the air before Mike grabbed the flustered man and pulled him to his feet, “Get dressed and get out.” he ordered, pulling a pair of expensive, brown trousers over his legs and securing them with a belt. He flicked his long, black hair from his eyes and grabbed his blue, cashmere sweater vest, pulling it over his head and turning to his desk.

Pages were scattered out over it, filled with sketches. He sighed, pulling the pine chair, causing it to make an awful noise as it scraped the wooden floor. He heard his dormitory door open and slam as his ripped off trick left. The sophomore grabbed a pencil, sliding it between two long fingers and beginning to feather lines on a fresh page.

He was not thinking straight as the lines became curves, not fully concentrating on his work but instead how he would blackmail another older student into his bed.

Being the son of the Universities Dean had its perquisites. Mike could blackmail every male student in the entire college if he caught them doing anything even slightly rebellious. Sad as it may be, Mike spent a lot of his time snooping the campus, watching for someone to slip up.

The led merely grazed the paper as he drew the outline of a man. Worry started to fill his body, what if that particular student told someone? Rumours about him would spread like a forest fire. The fact he was gay would take mere hours to reach his father.

“Shit…” he hissed as the led snapped, creating a thick, black line on the page between his fantasy man’s legs. “Guess you’ve been castrated, buddy.” he laughed softly, jumping when he heard three soft taps at his door. He swiftly covered his unfinished sketch with other, more colourful, complete work.

His older brother, Jason, peered around the door into the large dorm-room, his hair flat and messy, “Fancy coming with me to get coffee, little bro?” he asked in fluent Japanese. Mike glanced in the mirror that hung above his art desk, making sure his mocha skin was not sweaty or burning red. The small beard on his chin had a small speckle of white on it but other than that, he looked as if he had been watching grass die for the past five hours.

“Sure…” Mike replied, also speaking in Japanese, his mother language. The brother’s had moved here when Mike was seven and although he had mastered the English language along with many other languages, the Asian was more comfortable using his home language when possible.

Jason smiled, opening the door more and revealing his body. He was clad in a smart blue shirt with a darker blue tie and navy trousers. The younger brother glanced around his spotless room, grabbing a pair of expensive, leather shoes and following his brother through the dormitory.

Living in the higher-class dormitory also had its perquisites. It was always clean, never had much going on and was the perfect place for peace and quiet. “Who was your friend?” Jason asked, looking at his brother who was only an inch or two shorter than he was. Mike did not make eye contact, wishing his brother had not asked that question.

“Uh…he was just someone helping me a piece I have due in for Thursday…” Mike lied, fiddling with his pockets. The older brother laughed aloud, “Michael you haven’t needed help with art since you could hold a pencil.” he reminded him, passing through the glass doors into the busy street, the younger male trailing behind him.

Mike fixed his collar, looking down his nose at the ‘lower class’ college students who infested the streets. “How disgusting.” Jason muttered, still speaking in fluent Japanese. Mike nodded in agreement, pushing a young freshman out of his way, rolling his eyes as the young boy yelled out in protest.

“Mom wants us to come home for dinner this weekend.” the Senior announced, his head still held high as he walked past crowds of students who littered the grass outside of the Campus’ Library. Mike nodded, “Well of course, grandfather has made the effort to fly over here…I wouldn’t be so disrespectful as to Miss It.” he replied as they walked towards the nearest coffee shop.

There was a man with brown, curly hair playing guitar skilfully outside, a tip jar half filled by his feet. “Afternoon Shinoda’s…how’s your dad?” he asked politely, not missing a chord on the instrument. The brother’s didn’t so much as look his way, simply walking on, hearing the musician curse quietly.

When the two entered the small building, silence filled the air. They glided straight to the front of the long queue, not a word being spoken against them. Mike kept his vision focused ahead, wanting to grin with realisation of his power.

“Two large coffees hold the milk and sugar.” Jason ordered, in English, watching a chubby Korean fumble with the till. “F-Four…dollars please…” he choked out, burning up at the brother’s reaction.

Both boys simply laughed at the man who had a nametag which read; ‘Joe’. “We don’t carry cash.” Jason smirked, nudging Mike when he noticed the younger man had his head turned, staring at a blond haired male who sat across the room, his earphones blaring and his eyes focused on a book.

He had spiked, blond hair that flowed perfectly with his porcelain skin. He was wearing a simple, white wife beater showing off his colourfully tattooed arms. Large aqua and red flames were blazing around his wrists, clashing with his milk-bottle skin tone. He glanced up through thick, black glasses, his eyes widening as he realised nobody was speaking.

“What are you staring at?” Jason hissed, going back to Japanese when he spoke to his brother. Mike shook his head, looking away from the blond and snatching his coffee off the worker. He mumbled something incoherent and turned to leave alongside his brother.

The blond watched intently as the two Asian men left, not uttering a word to anyone. Loud chatter began the second the door shut. “Joe!” he called over, looking up to see the chubby framed man rushed off his feet. His head spun around, pouting apologetically to his friend as he served customers.

“How did you do that?” and excited female asked, causing the pale man to turn around looking at the tanned woman with shoulder length, jet-black hair. “What, talk? Well usually I open my mouth and let words come out.” he shrugged sarcastically.

The girl giggled with a high-pitch, “No, silly. I mean; how did you get Michael Shinoda to notice you?” she beamed.

A sarcastic laugh escaped the blond, known as Chester Bennington. He was new to the school, having transferred from another, cheaper Art University in Phoenix. “Who the fuck’s Michael Shinoda? Oh and while we’re on the topic of ‘who the fuck’…who the fuck are you?!” he asked grumpily, looking back down at his novel.

“I’m Talinda…and who is Michael? Well he’s that tanned beauty with the black hair that just walked in!” she almost squealed, clearly having a thing for the brothers. “I saw two ‘tanned beauties’ with black hair.” Chester sighed, slamming his book shut and shoving it into a tattered messenger bag, throwing it over his shoulder and waving goodbye to his roommate, Joe.

As he slinked from the shop, the newbie Junior pulled out a small map of the campus, ignoring the looks he was getting because of his ‘unique style’.

“What’re you?” someone laughed as he walked past. Chester simply shrugged and continued on his journey. In his opinion, there was nothing wrong with a pair of tight, ripped jeans with chains hanging from them. Nor was there anything wrong with huge, chunky boots covered in studs.

Obviously, such a respectable art college thought differently.

As he walked across the grass, the sun shone down warmly on him. He spotted the two brother’s who were in the coffee shop relaxing on a bench across the street.

“Spare me a dollar, bro?” a man playing a guitar called from Chester’s right. The blond smiled, bending down and digging in his pocket before swiftly grabbing the tip jar and breaking into a sprint.

The guitarist yelled, grabbing the instrument by the neck and beginning to chase the man. Chester laughed as he sped past the bench, banging into a girl and giggling as she fell to the ground. He looked over his shoulder to see the brown haired man a few feet behind him.

“Stop him!” he heard the musician yell as he turned a corner, dodging cars. He leaped over a bench, his foot chipping the top, sending him tumbling onto the grass. “Fuck…” he panted with a laugh, scrambling back to his feet, holding the jar tightly as he heard footsteps running behind him. He was headed towards the Campus’ Quad were tons of people flooded, drawing, eating, skateboarding, chatting, reading, making out or whatever else was going on.

He laughed as he destroyed a game of hacky sack, heading straight for the fountain and quickly throwing his bag to the ground, jumping into the air and slam-dunking the tip jar into the water, his body falling in afterwards.

Around twenty people began to crowd around as Chester shook his soaked head, yanking his glasses off and holding up his middle finger before falling back. He was panting uncontrollably and his chest burned.

The blond lay, soaked through in the fountain, shaking the water off his glasses before putting them back on. The crowd began to file away leaving just one man who gasped for breath. “Tired?” Chester smirked, sitting upright to see the musician, instead seeing a dark haired, well built Asian, and dressed in a blue, cashmere sweater and brown trousers.

“You are in a lot of trouble.”