Category Linkin Park

Reading My Eyes by SonataNocturne

Thinking I'm okay, but they're saying otherwise

A/N: Hello lovelies! So, as you might figure out this is the story around 'Reading my eyes will say it in many ways'. I decided I need to do it, even when it hurts to write it. Also decided to write this individually, thus I don't have to change the title etc. If you want to read it before you start this, it's good. But it isn't must. So obviously warning for the content blah blah. Hope you like it <3


He could hear the voice and panic in it, but he couldn't move. Nor didn't want. Like weighing a ton he felt just sinking further to the bed. And deeper to the warmness, the sounds echoing in the background.

"Mike! Open your eyes! Please!", someone shook him, hard.

He heard it, like he was under water, the voice muffled and somewhere far away. It was so comfortable, same as you are falling sleep. The time just before you drift to the dreamland. Or maybe he was already sleeping, and dreaming it all.

"Wake up! Mike! I'm not losing you too! Fuck!", the voice sounded more desperate again shaking him.

Lovely numbness was spreading and he probably would have smiled if he could have only moved. It started from his fingers and toes traveling further, tingling slightly as it went. As it reached his chest he shivered. Breathing was harder. Like the air was thin and heavy at same time. His lungs were screaming, squeezing, burning. Or maybe he imagined it. Or maybe he was dreaming.

"Why are they taking so long.... Mike! Wake up!", there was a yell again, louder.

His poor lungs were objecting as the fists slammed on his chest. The ringing in his ears got yet again louder, piercing through his brains. The numbness continued spreading, and soon he couldn't feel his face anymore. As the voice continued its yells he realized something was wrong. He wasn't dreaming, he was there but something was different.

But the lovely numbness didn't leave him alone and he was still falling. It consumed him covering all of his existence completely ignoring the question that floated in his brain. One by one his nerves tingled and then started to shut down.

There was a scream again, and it was him himself. He couldn't comprehend how he had managed that. As he couldn't feel his face anymore. Suddenly it was cold, so cold. Freezing him to the core.

"Finally! Hang on Mike", the muffled voice said again.

And then there were several voices fussing around. He felt when he was being lifted and shifted. The numbness was a bliss but now he was being tossed around and he wanted to scream at them to leave him alone. To let him be there, still sinking.

"Mr. Shinoda calm down. We're going to take care of you", a new voice said.

"Mike stop it! They are helping you", the previous voice was next to it.

Then it all went black. Just echoing black void rushing over him.


"Hey", the same voice was there when he opened his eyes.

He glanced around the white room realizing instantly that he was in hospital. His throat felt like sandpaper and only wheezing came out when he tried to talk. Then his eyes settled to the source of the voice.

"What the hell were you thinking? We almost lost you. You too! Mike what the fuck?", Brad said the pain audible in his voice. He had been crying. Hours, Mike would say. Eyes red and swollen.

Then it hit him. Chester. Chester wasn't there anymore. Panicking he started to trash around screaming.

"Mike stop! You can't...", Brad tried to calm him down but when Mike ripped the bandages he realized there was no way he could do it alone.

He ran to get a doctor knowing this was just a start. The pain squeezing his heart wasn't stopping anytime soon either.

Finally the doctor was found and after an injection Mike was calm again. Or calm was really an understatement. He was drugged to the state and the tears kept flowing from his eyes as he trembled. The man in white coat checked the wounds and that the stitches were still intact and changed the bandages then, before leaving the room again.

He sat there staring at the broken man before dropping his head to his hands. There was no wait out of this. Every possible turn would eventually lead to another obstacle. Then his phone rang.

"Is he wake yet?", Rob mumbled. He had been crying too. Brad could hear it in the voice.

"Yeah. And then he panicked and I had to get a doctor to drug him up. A minute longer and he would have ripped the stitches", the guitarist answered glancing at Mike. He looked so fragile on the hospital bed. The chest rising heavily and then settling back down. The bandages covering his arms almost up to the elbows.

"Brad what the hell are we going to do", the drummer swallowed hard, a lump in his throat objecting. It wasn't even a question. He knew there was really nothing they could do.

"I don't know. I wish I could. It hurts so bad to see him like that. Physically. It feels like my heart can't take it", Brad breathed.

"What now? What...", Rob started his voice breaking. "God. What do you think is the next step?"

"They said he is free to leave tomorrow. I think... I fucking hate this. We can't leave him alone now", the other answered glancing at the emcee who was now staring the window. That had blinds closed.

"Call me tomorrow then", Rob sighed.

As the call ended Brad leaned back on the chair letting his limbs relax. Thoughts were running through his head but he couldn't catch any of them. Now it was just cacophony bouncing around the corners of his mind.

At last he caught one and that he was going to keep. He stood up walking beside the emcee.

"Mike. We are here for you. I'm here for you. And I'm not letting you go anywhere", Brad squeezed Mike's shoulder.

He didn't know what to do. The glue, their glue, had broken down to millions of pieces and glue was exactly what was needed to put him back together. Without Chester the task sounded beyond impossible.


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