Mike Shinoda stared at the brightly coloured laptop screen. It was two in the morning but he honestly did not care. He had the house practically to himself, countless cans of beer at his fingertips and a thousand things to do.

“What could be better?” he whispered, cracking open a can of ice-cold beer and sipping from it contently. He had two tiny earphones pressed into his ears, tucked under his dark, lengthening hair.

It was a relatively cool January night so the young man sat with a thick hoodie covering his tanned torso and a pair of cotton pyjama trousers resting on his hips and trailing down to his ankles.

After he had made sure his wife was tucked into bed, fast asleep, Mike slinked downstairs, raided the fridge for his favourite beer, and grabbed his fastest running laptop.

It was rare the man had time to relax, if it wasn’t releasing an album, creating a game or painting religiously it was constant whining from his family to spend more time with them.

Then there was Chester.

Chester had been so demanding for months now. He would constantly complain about how little time his best friend spent with him.

As if Mike had the time of day to worry about Chester’s bitching.

The young male, in his early thirties, was up to his neck in responsibilities, especially since he became a father.

Not that that was his choice.

“Mike…” the young woman would whine, “I’ve always wanted children…oh please Mikey…please!” she had begged him that night and as if by magic, after one try, she was pregnant.

Nine months later, Mike had a daughter.

It’s not that he doesn’t love his family, it’s just he has a hard time balancing his career, his family and Chester.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ve been drinking…again!” the young, tanned woman screeched, glaring at her drunk husband and running a hand through her dark locks, “Why won’t you stop?!”

The pale young man smiled, stumbling over his wife’s pathetic excuse of a dog. “I was celebrating.” he winked, falling into the comfortable couch and watching as his wife closed and locked the front door.

He was wearing an expensive looking leather jacket and a pair of tight jeans with numerous stud-belts falling from his hips.

“Celebrating what?! The fact you are an alcoholic twat?!” she yelled, picking the small animal up and nuzzling its fur.

Her husband stuck up his middle finger, letting out a hearty laugh. “Tal…you need to loosen up a little…what happened to the good old days?”

The woman glared at her husband, sitting on a sofa opposite, running her acrylic nails through her dogs fur.

“Oh wait, that was Sam.” the man giggled, hiccupping.

“You’re a fucking asshole Chester Bennington!” the young woman screamed, pushing the dog off her lap and raising to her feet, “I want a divorce!” she added, tears running down her face.

The man laughed, “Again?” he asked, referring to the fact she had screamed that three times that week.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was close to three-thirty of a Sunday morning.

Mike was still perched in his living room, typing furiously on his laptop whilst listening to random rap songs his friends had suggested. He had barely moved for the past two hours, the only exception being to grab another beer from the fridge or to relieve himself in the bathroom.

He was halfway through typing out his next blog post when there was a sudden loud bang on the window of the room.

With a sudden gasp, Mike glanced up to see a scrawny, dark figure standing outside, banging on the window.

“Who the fuck…” he muttered, placing the laptop on the cushion beside himself and jumped to his feet, stumbling over the laptop-charger and cursing quietly.

He heisted for a few seconds before walking into the hallway. ‘Who the hell calls at three in the morning?’ he asked himself, shivering at the draught that came under the large front door.

His bare toes curled as he opened the door, revealing his best friend with a wide, sheepish grin.

“She kicked me out again…” the man opposite mumbled, falling into Mike’s open arms and laughing drunkenly.

Mike sighed, subconsciously flipping his hair from his face and half-carrying Chester into the living room.

He was used to this routine, ever since Chester had gotten back onto alcohol, this happened at least once a week.

What could he do? He had always been there for Chester and Chester had tried to be there for him too. Of course, Mike was too stubborn for someone’s help and support.

“What’d you do now?” Mike asked, helping Chester onto the sofa and slamming his laptop shut, not bothering to save his work.

Chester giggled, crawling onto his best-friends lap and hiccupping. “She’s a wanker…” he slurred, tugging at Mike’s dark locks childishly.

The younger man didn’t attempt to push Chester off; instead, he wrapped his thick arms around him and allowed him to rest between them, holding him supportively.

“You’re lucky…Anna let’s you drink.” he mumbled pulling at the hairs on Mike’s arms.

The dark haired man rolled his eyes; Anna didn’t ‘let’ him drink. He never needed her permission. Anna trusted that Mike wouldn’t get drunk out of his mind and stumble into the house at two in the morning.

“You’re so furry…” Chester giggled, looking up at Mike with large doe-eyes.

Mike kissed his forehead, unwrapping him and pushing him off his lap, “Okay. I’m going to bed, you better get some sleep too,” he smiled.

Not listening, Chester pulled himself up and pressed his lips against Mike’s wrenching the younger man’s mouth open and fusing their tongues together.

After briefly kissing the elder back, Mike pushed the drunken male away, unable to hide his smile, “Not tonight,” he winked, pecking the man’s lips before standing upright, “Go to sleep.”

“Mikey…” Chester slurred, gripping the leg of Mike’s trousers, “I love you,” he giggled, releasing his grip and curling into a foetal position.

Mike rolled his eyes, “Love you too…you crazy bitch.”

*~*~*~*~*

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