LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Learning The Hard Way by Crimson

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A/N: Just something I wrote in school a few days ago. Because I'd rather write than interact with classmates haha enjoy!



He was a gifted singer. A small man with a huge voice. A voice that could rock a whole arena and could make a single, strong person an emotional mess. An angelic voice with laces of demonic sounds woven within. And everyone is at the utmost mercy to it. It’s hypnotizing, drawing you in until that’s all you can hear, but you don’t mind at all because your mind is drowning in waves of musical and lyrical euphoria.



He is Chester Bennington. My best friend. My bandmate. Bonded by the dark secrets we have shared. I can definitely say the lyrics that were either sang, screamed, or growled were true. Years of pain compacted into a flow of words. Quite beautiful.



He never took pride in anything besides one thing: his voice. Even he himself was in awe of what left his mouth. What sound was conjured from his body. He would sing to himself every night before he fell asleep. I would hear him in the bunk below mine on the bus when we were on tour. It was in a whispered tone but it was still stunning. I would find myself secretly scribbling his lyrics down in a notebook because he had never shared those songs before. They were so honest. It was all he had. His wife had left him, leaving him in these shattered, miserable pieces that I had to help clean up. I didn’t mind because I cared for him, but in the end, it was his voice that cured him. He put his anguish in lyrics and I thought everything would be okay. Well, until I checked his bunk one day.



Everybody was looking for the key to the bus before we left and usually I had it, but I let Chester borrow it to get something back on the bus. He didn’t tell me what. I ducked into his messy bunk and searched through the sheets, but what I found was definitely not the key. A pack of cigarettes. Why was he smoking? I already had a talk with him about his excessive drinking, and now this? I was very unhappy. I stormed towards the front of the bus where Phoenix just got on.



“Hey, I found the key. Chester had it,” he told me, but I had already hopped off the bus and was making my way over to Chester who was in a conversation with Brad. “Chester, I need to speak to you,” I said lowly.



His arms were crossed over the white wifebeater he wore. Vibrant colors swirled up his wrists and also wrapped around his upper arms. I always liked his tattoos even though I wouldn’t get them myself.



Chester turned to look at me with a small, boyish smile. “About?” he asked, but his eyes traveled down the length of my arm to the pack of cigarettes and his eyes immediately darkened. He sighed and shuffled back to the bus with me, his shaved head turned down towards the ground as we passed the others.



I shut the bus doors behind us to give us some privacy and then I stood before him as he took a seat in a chair, elbows resting on his small knees. “Chester…,” I started. It was hard to find the words to say to him. I didn’t want to scream at my best friend, especially since he was gazing up at me with his big brown eyes that were filled to the brim with salty tears, but I wanted to get my point across. “You have to stop this. All of this,” I murmured, ruffling through my hair in frustration.



“Mike, it’s not that easy.”



“It’s not good for you,” I reasoned, crossing my arms over my broad chest.



“Neither is sulking in depression,” Chester muttered under his breath, lowering his eyes to the floor.



I watched his tears slip off of his clenched jaw and hit the floor in miserable silence. I can’t. I can’t sit here and watch him cry. My heart ached and I sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard,” I murmured, drawing him closer to me.



Chester didn’t respond. He just pressed his damp face harder against my clothed chest. Warm tears soaked the fabric and I gripped him tighter. I just wanted him to be okay. “Mike?” Chester murmured after he calmed down.



“Yeah?”



Chester sat up to face me, his arms still wrapped around my firm torso. “Will you always be my friend?” Chester asked, his voice cutting off a few times as more small tears fled from his dark eyes.



My hands cupped his face and my thumbs brushed away the hot drops. “Of course, Chester,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.



“No matter what?”



“No matter what.”


~*~


It all started with the hoarseness in his voice. We thought he was just pushing his voice a bit over his limit, but even when we started to play more softer songs, he still sounded so hoarse. He became frustrated and sometimes I would have to literally drag him out of the dressing room to the stage so he would perform.



“Chester, five minutes,” I called as I poked my head into the dressing room.



He stood in front of the mirror, shirtless and glaring at himself in the glass. “I can’t go out there,” he said in a rough voice. He coughed and swallowed with difficulty. It was August. He couldn’t have caught a cold, right?



“Chester, you have to,” I urged him, tapping my black shoe on the ground impatiently. They would start the intro soon.



“I sound horrible, Mike,” Chester whimpered, cupping his flushed face in his small hands.



“Hey, hey, you have the most amazing voice. Even on your worst days, it’s still good. Now, you have tons of screaming fans out there that came for you. Do you really want to disappoint them?” I asked softly, placing my hand on his shoulder.



Chester took a breath and shook his head, dropping his hands. “I don’t want to disappoint them,” he murmured. He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on. “Let’s go,” he told me with a small smile.



I smiled back and threw my arm around his shoulder as I led him to the stage.


~*~


“I’m break-ing the ha-bit, toni-,” Chester broke out in a series of harsh coughs, tilting the microphone away so it wouldn’t pick up on the noise.



I frowned from behind the keyboard. This had been happening a lot lately. Luckily, the fans finished for him and cheered. He still had support, but the crestfallen look behind his fake smile said everything. He was starting to give up, like his voice. I was worried. It’s never gotten this bad. Maybe he needed a break.


~*~


“Don’t strain your voice at all this week. Understand?” I told Chester from the foot of the hotel bed. He was sprawled out on the sheets with the look of a kicked puppy. Wow, he looked miserable. “You’re going to keep me company, right?” Chester murmured, gazing at me.



“Of course. If you need anything, just tell me,” I assured him.



“I need company. I’m going to be bored just resting here,” Chester said with a small smile.



I smirked and switched on the television before settling down next to him. I knew he wouldn’t mind.



“Mike?”



I turned my head to look at him. “Yeah?”



Chester cleared his throat, a raspy sound coming deep within him. “If this doesn’t go away...will you hate me?”



The poor guy. He thought people only liked him for his voice. Just like himself. That’s the only reason he can even stand to live as himself. “Chester, I don’t just like you for your voice,” I told him firmly.



“But, Mike, that’s the only good thing about me!” Chester protested loudly and then started to cough from the strain he put on himself.



I hopped off the bed and grabbed him a bottle of water. “Sit up,” I told him as I approached his bedside.



Chester sat up, covering his mouth with his hand as the coughs shook his body.



I placed my hand on his back to soothe him and I handed him the bottle gently.



He took it and drank a generous amount, making the coughs die down. He set the bottle down on the nightstand and sighed. “How? What else is there? I’m ugly, too pale and too thin. I’m stupid. I can’t control my wants. Without my voice...I’m nothing, Mike. Absolutely nothing but a waste of space,” Chester verbally abused himself, tearing down any self-appreciation he had. His head bowed and his shoulders shook slightly.



Why did he do this to himself? It killed me. Who was he seeing in the mirror? “Chester, you’re perfect,” I found myself telling him. It wasn’t a lie to me.



His eyes rose to meet mine. “What?”



“You’re not ugly,” I told him, moving the hand on his back to his jaw and cheek area. His skin was smooth, not a blemish in sight. My eyes met his scarred arms and I frowned. His past was tough, and now his present was too. I wouldn’t allow him to go down that path again.



“See? It’s disgusting! I just wanted to tear myself apart! But what’s the point? I’m ugly on the inside too,” Chester whispered the last few words, puncturing his already hurt heart with each word.



I grabbed both of his wrists firmly. “Chester, stop. How can you not see how beautiful you are? Even your blemishes cannot change that. And on the inside? A heart of gold. Impenetrable beauty,” I told him. I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from but they felt right.



Chester sniffled and wrapped his arms around my neck tightly, tugging me to his warm body. His heated, damp face pressed into my neck. “Thank you so much, Mike. No one has ever said such nice things.”



I felt for him. He was a stunning man. I gripped him tightly, letting him lose himself. He didn’t deserve to lose so many tears. He should be happy and carefree as he lived his dreams, not a crying mess in my arms while he crushed them. “I’ll always be here for you, Ches,” I said softly.



Chester’s grip loosened and he pulled back softly to meet my eyes, his soft breath fanning against my face. He gave me a smile, a real smile.



I loved that smile so much and it had become so rare lately. I moved my eyes back to his and I noticed how close we were. His face was full of nervousness and my heart fluttered nervously but we leaned forward anyway. It just felt like the right thing to do. Right before our lips touched, there was a knock on the door. We both snapped out of our dazes and moved apart quickly. Something huge nearly happened. I stumbled to the door and opened it to reveal Brad. “H-Hey,” I stuttered, tugging at the collar of my shirt with a shaky hand.



“Hey, you alright?” Brad asked.



“Yep. What’s up?” I asked quickly. I probably looked incredibly guilty. How could I not? I nearly kissed my bandmate!



“We were going to go grab a bite to eat. You two interested?”



I was only hungry for one thing. I turned my head to gaze at Chester who still laid on the bed. Snap out of it! I mentally scolded myself for having such thought about my friend. “Chester, are you hungry?” I asked him.



I could tell Chester just wanted to get out of there because he immediately hopped up and darted out the door. And that was the last really close encounter I had with Chester Bennington. Until a few weeks later.


~*~


“My throat hurts!” Chester wailed.



I had heard him say that for a few weeks now. No matter what we did, he still wasn’t getting any better. I sighed and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the room to find the rest of the band. This couldn’t be a cold anymore. I found them in Joe’s room and I confronted them. “We need to take Chester to a doctor.”



“You know he’ll put up a fight,” Joe warned.



“I can’t stand by and let him wallow in his pain anymore,” I said with a shake of my head. I would no longer put up with it.



“Let’s go. Get him,” Rob said and grabbed the keys to our ride.



I nodded and jogged to Chester’s room where he was rubbing his throat and watching tv. “Come on,” I told him from the doorway.



“Where?” Chester murmured weakly.



“The hospital.”



“What? No,” Chester protested.



I sighed. Chester hated hospitals. They made him nervous. “Chester, we have to go or you might not get better.”



Chester pondered on my words. Of course he wanted to get better, but hospitals gave him a sick feeling. “Okay,” he finally sighed and slid off his bed. He slipped his shoes on and followed me to the car.



Everyone was nervous as we drove to the hospital. We had no idea what was going on and I could tell Chester was close to either breaking down or fainting. It was pretty dark so I gripped his hand between us to comfort him. His shaking died down a bit and he squeezed my hand tightly enough to make it ache from the pressure. I stared straight ahead because I knew that if I looked at him I would give in and force us to go back to the hotel. He needed to be checked on.



Once we arrived, our hands parted, but I stayed close to his side as we entered the hospital. We approached the front desk and he had trouble talking to the person at the desk so I took over. “Chester Bennington. His voice has been weak for awhile and his throat has been hurting for awhile,” I told her.



She nodded as she scribbled down a few things on a paper. “If you can sit and wait for a few minutes, I’ll check on the doctor’s availability,” she said, pointing to a row of chairs.



I nodded and guided Chester to a seat since he seemed frozen to the spot. “You’ll be fine,” I told him, helping him sit.



“Just breathe,” Phoenix told him.



Chester nodded, but he was having some difficulty.



I wish the doctor would hurry up! The doctor finally walked up a few minutes later with a clipboard. “Chester Bennington?”



Chester remained silent, body rigid.



“Right here,” I answered for him and brought him to his feet. “Go on. It’s okay. I’ll be waiting right here when you are done,” I said gently in his ear.



“Promise?” Chester murmured in a hushed voice.



“Promise,” I said as the doctor started to lead him away. I sighed and collapsed in a chair once the doors swung shut. He had been so terrified! I bit my forefinger as I tried to collect my thoughts. Now, all we had to do was wait. Time can be torture.


~*~


Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.



“Mike, quit tapping your feet!” Brad scolded me.



I rested my elbows on my knees, hunching over. It had been an hour. Where was Chester? The doors swung open, but the doctor walked in instead of Chester. I stood up as he approached. “Where is he?” I ordered.



“He’s in the room,” the doctor replied.



“Why? What’s wrong with him?” I asked, my heart pounding.



The doctor sighed, trying to find the words. “Chester has a tumor in his larynx,” he stated.



I stared blankly at him. Wait, what did he say? Wasn’t that cancer of some sort? The larynx was the voice box...no wonder he was having so many problems with his voice.



“I know that is hard to accept, but we found a large tumor and we are requesting immediate surgery to remove his larynx.”



My knees gave out and I felt a strong build catch me. Phoenix helped me sit down, but he was pale in the face and had to sit down also. “How?” I whispered.



“Did he drink or smoke excessively?” the doctor asked.



I could only nod. “Will he be okay?”



“Yes, once we remove his larynx, he should be fine, but he will lose his natural ability to speak.”



“Oh, no,” I choked out, pressing my hand against my mouth.



“He won’t be able to sing?” Rob asked.



“Unfortunately not, but the tumor will be gone and he will be safe.”



“Does he know?” I asked.



The doctor shook his head. “I came to see if one of you would like to tell him.”



I glanced at the band with a face of pure misery.



“You tell him, Mike,” Joe said quietly.



I swallowed and stood up. He would be devastated. My heart ached, but I followed the doctor to his room. My steps were slightly unsteady, the bright lights from the hallway increasing the pounding in my head. Poor Chester.



The doctor stopped in front of a room with its door wide open. He motioned for me to enter.



I forced myself forward, afraid of what I was going to see. Would he be paler than usual? Would he look sick? My eyes reached his body and I nearly questioned the doctor.



Chester looked fine. He looked quite angelic actually as he laid against the white sheets, his dark jeans and red shirt constricting his small body. Chocolate eyes met mine and I breathed in deep, stunned by him. Then he started to cough. I frowned and approached him as his body was violently jerked about.



Once he calmed down, he looked at me once again. “Hey, Mike,” he said softly. His voice was of pure innocence. Of pure youth and strength with just small strokes of raspiness.



I sat down beside him and my hand found his hand which rested on his stomach. “Hey, Ches,” I replied, dropping my eyes. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t do it!



“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chester asked, lifting my head with his other hand.



I was speechless, rendered helpless by his soft touches and innocent appearance. I wanted to hold and protect him. Always. I wanted to show him that he was wanted. That he was loved. My hand reached over his body and rested near his head. I lifted myself to hover over him, afraid of crushing him with my weight. I rested my forehead gently on his, gazing into his eyes with an unspoken question of permission. His hand was still in my other hand, squeezing tightly as we contemplated on going on or not.



Chester tilted his head up, letting his eyes shut.



Before our lips touched, the door opened. I pulled away and merely sat beside him, staring at my hands that rested in my lap.



The nurse who opened the door set a blue hospital gown on the foot of the bed. “Call me when you’re ready,” she said and then left us.



I forced myself to look at Chester.



His face was twisted in confusion. He sat up and looked at me. “Mike, what is going on?” he asked slowly.



Now, I was forced to tell him. I opened my mouth, but my throat swelled and I ended up choking on my words. I recovered and rested my hand back on his. It felt so right there… “Chester, they found a tumor in your larynx,” I said.



Chester stared at me for a minute, blinking slowly as if he just wasn’t understanding what I just told him. “Larynx?” he finally questioned.



I pressed a finger lightly to his throat. “There. They want to perform surgery to remove your larynx so you’ll be okay,” I explained.



Chester nodded and then his eyes beckoned me to continue. With how I was acting, there had to be more.



“Chester, when they remove your larynx...they remove your voice.”



Chester’s eyes immediately filled with tears. He blinked rapidly, but they spilled out anyway, making his light skin and pink cheeks glisten. “H-How did I get the tumor?” he whispered, gripping his throat.



Once his neck turned red, I pried his hands away. I held them tightly, mentally set on not allowing him to hurt himself. “It was from drinking and smoking,” I said gently. I couldn’t lie or sugarcoat it.



Chester let out a sob, shaking his head and making tears fly. “Y-You told me to st-stop. You warned me and I didn’t listen! I’m such an idiot! I should’ve listened to you! I’m sorry, Mike,” Chester cried, bowing his head.



I was surprised at his reaction honestly. I thought he would launch into not having anything now, but he was instead apologizing to me. “Chester, it’s okay,” I said softly, stroking his hands. I would not beat him up about this.



“No, it’s not! What about the band? We were really getting popular, Mike! People noticed us! They loved us!” Chester whimpered, tears falling into his lap.



“Don’t worry about the band, Chester. We just want you to get better. I would rather have you alive and voiceless instead of not having you at all,” I told him firmly.



Chester looked up at me with sad eyes. “You must hate me. I ruined everything!” Chester sniffled, pulling his hands away from my grip.



I had enough. He was speaking pure lies that were emotionally and mentally poisoning him. I stopped the flow of verbal poison by pressing my mouth to his firmly. It probably should’ve been a more gentler first kiss, but only pressure stops the flow.



Chester’s words ceased and he froze, breathing sharply and quickly for a few seconds before pushing back against me, lips crushed intimately against each other.



I pulled away before my heart busted out of my chest. “It’s okay, Chester. I’m not angry. I’ll never be angry at you. I’ll never hate you,” I told him, reclaiming his hands.



“I’m sorry. I was scared. Mike, if I lost you and the band…,” he trailed off with a shake of his head.



“That’ll never happen. You may lose your voice, but you will always have the band. You will always have me, Chester. No matter what,” I told him, threading each word into his wounded soul and just hoping that he would feel a bit better.



Chester finally nodded, accepting my words. He glanced at the gown and bit his lip to suppress a sob.



I frowned and moved to sit beside him. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “Hey, hey,” I gently cooed.



“I’ll just miss singing, that’s all. Can...Can we sing just one last time? You and me?” Chester asked slowly and quietly.



“Of course. What do you want to sing?” I asked him. It was saddening to hear him talk like this. These were the words of a dying man, but he was not dying, just a part of his soul was.



“You write down in a notebook a lot. If those are songs, I want to sing one of those.”



Ah, the notebook where I jotted down his lyrics and then twisted them to make small songs just for myself to sing in my head. I mentally flipped through the pages and one stuck. If I changed the lyrics a little, it would fit the situation at hand. “I have one,” I told him and then took out my phone. I typed the lyrics on a notepad, thumbs moving quickly as the words just poured from my mind. I finished and scrolled to the top. “Just join in whenever, okay?” I said.



Chester nodded and laid down, pulling me with him. We laid side by side, our arms pressed together.



I glanced at the lyrics and took a breath before softly singing them.



“Weep not for roads untraveled

Weep not for paths left alone

'Cause beyond every bend

Is a long blinding end.”



Chester’s fingers lightly brushed mine as he joined in with the next part.



“It's the worst kind of pain

I've known.

Give up your heart left broken

And let that mistake pass on

'Cause the love that you lost

Wasn't worth what it cost

And in time you'll be glad it's gone.”



Our hands had become interlocked, fingers woven around each other as we seemed to hang on for dear life. I didn’t want him to go and he didn’t want to leave, but we knew he had to. Tears were soon cascading down his face and I broke off to let him sing part of the next part before I had to join in to intermix our voices. It sounded so right together. We were balanced. The raspiness in his voice went ignored and I just listened to the emotion that was attached to the simple lyrics.



“Woah-oo-oh-oh

Woah-oo-ohh

Woah-oo-oh-oh

Woah-oo-ohh.”



My eyes closed momentarily and my head just swayed, letting myself bask in the sweet, strong sound of his live voice. Pure bliss.



“Weep not for roads untraveled

Weep not for sights unseen.”



Chester choked on the words and turned his head to the side, tears seeping out of the corners of his closed eyes.



I slid closer and leaned forward to gently kiss them away, letting them soak into the soft tissue of my lips. Once he recovered, our eyes moved back to the lyrics and we read them for a second, letting them soak in. I turned my head to face him and I sighed, resting my forehead against his as our hands gripped each other tighter.



“May your love never end

And if you need a friend

There's a seat here alongside me.”



We finished and just laid there for a few minutes, softly crying, but being very silent. The words to be said had already been sung and now we felt some sort of peace.



“When do I have to go?” Chester whispered.



“Whenever you are ready,” I replied, stroking the top of his hand with my thumb. I didn’t think he would ever be ready, but he sat up right after my answer and looked down at me.



“Let’s get this over with. I have you and the band. That’s all I need,” Chester said softly, smiling a little, but his eyes reflected unspoken pain.



I sat up and faced him, reaching one hand forward to wipe away his tears. “I’ll be here when you are done,” I promised him, stroking his jaw gently as he clenched it to keep from crying anymore. “You’ll be okay, Chester, “I told him, my own voice cracking. I knew how bad he was hurting and to not be able to help him was painful in so many ways.



“I know, Mike. I’ll be okay,” he replied, his voice more high-pitched than usual. He sniffled and I pulled his face closer to mine, recapturing his lips to soothe him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, applying more light pressure so we felt each other better. The softness. The wanting. The needing. The love. Buried deep in our minds, sheltered from each other and ourselves for the longest time. There was so much I could say. I could tell him how he meant the world to me. How the small things he did were the best like how adorable he looked when he smiled and the corner of his eyes crinkled. How just his energy could inspire me to play show after show and not get tired. How I wished I had noticed these feelings earlier. We had little time so I just kissed him a little bit harder.



My hands cupped his cheeks, feeling the firm cheekbones and soft skin beneath my palms. I sucked gently at his bottom lip, drawing us even closer if that was possible. He responded with an unsteady breath as he grabbed my sides. We were scared out of our minds on where we were at but all that mattered right now was that we were together, lips locked and bodies pressed together. I finally pulled away, releasing his lip and removing my hands from his face. “Let’s get your gown on,” I said softly and grabbed the gown.



Chester hopped off of the bed, clearing his throat painfully. The singing hadn’t helped his throat, but it did help him mentally. He removed his shirt and laid it on the bed. He removed the rest of his clothing and I helped put the gown on, my eyes staying respectfully on his.



Of course I wanted to let my eyes explore, but we weren’t that far yet. “Nurse!” I called once he was ready. I stood near him, holding his hand tightly.



Chester looked at me. He looked so small in the simple gown. His jaw was set, but I couldn’t read his eyes. “There is so much I want to say to you,” Chester confessed.



I smiled a little and kissed him gently on his forehead to comfort him. We would find a way to communicate. We would become closer from this, not farther. My lips sealed that silent promise and I then pulled away as the nurse opened the door.



“Mr. Bennington?”



The nurse intercepted him from me and Chester started to panic a little, thinking he had a little more time with me. His mouth opened, but there was too much to say.



“Chester, it’s okay,” I told him.



Chester wanted to say one more thing. Just one more. “Mike, I know it’s kind of early, but I don’t know what else these feelings may be. I feel so different around you. So complete,” Chester spoke quickly.



I smiled and my face heated a bit. The words were so kind and so relatable. It was touching he felt the same way.



Before he was taken down the hallway, Chester met my eyes and finished. “I love you.”



I watched him walk away with wide eyes. He loved me? My heart thumped and I knew I felt the same affection for the man. I snapped out of my shock and jogged into the hallway. He was nearly at the end. “Chester!”



“Yeah?” he called, pausing his walk.



“I love you too,” I grinned and gave him a small wave.



Chester smiled back and waved before letting the nurse lead him into the operating room. The door shut, the noise echoing off of the white walls.



I stood there for awhile, practically waiting for him to burst out that door shouting that it was okay. Well, maybe it was. He did lose his voice. His prized possession, but from it, he had gained fame, some self-appreciation, and a band. But from just being him, he had gained international love, a group of very good friends, respect, and possibly a boyfriend. I smiled to myself and started towards the waiting room. He would be fine. Chester was as strong as his voice before the cancer. And even then it was strong. Breaking past the beating of the drums, breaking past the want to self-harm. Overpowering the bass, overpowering his fears. Taking control of the stage, taking control of the situation. A tough lesson to be learned, but he would grow from this. This is Chester we are talking about. When has he ever given up? When we’ve given up on him, and that’s never.

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