Shout out for Mike’s new singles; Crossing A Line and Nothing Makes Sense Anymore! Awesome songs, as well as sad. This one, too, is rather sad.

Disclaimer: Linkin Park isn’t mine and this story is totally fictional.

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Sometimes Mike woke up in the morning feeling confused.

It was like any other day, so ordinary. His morning started with the usual routine. Anna woke him up before waking the children and headed to the kitchen while he would spend a long hour in the bathroom getting ready. He then checked on their kids in their respective rooms. Otis had already down, the twins were still in their room, fighting over who would wear the pink bandana today so Mike had to interfere and break the fight as well as played the role of a ‘fair daddy’. He ushered his twin girls downstairs to the kitchen where Anna had prepared them breakfast. He would give his wife a sweet kiss on the lips despite their kids’ protest and beamed at the bacons that became the menu for this morning.

It was practically a normal start for the day. Breakfast was gone in no time. Mike watched in amusement as their kids raced upstairs to collect their schoolbags. He offered to do the dishes since it was Anna who would take them to school today before she went to her writing club.

As Anna was upstairs to fetch her things, leaving Mike alone in the kitchen with a pile of dirty plates, he started to feel funny.

It felt weird.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! He grumbled, impatiently rubbing his stubbly face with both hands.

He didn’t feel… content. Something was definitely wrong but his poor brain couldn’t grasp what it was. He was forgetting something. That much was clear. But, what?

“Mike, we’re going,” Anna called from the foyer, pulling him out of his fumbled thought. Mike then rushed to the front door to bid them all goodbye.

“Mike, you okay?” Anna frowned, noticing the troubled look of her husband.

“I think so.” Mike pecked the twins and stood up. ”It’s just that… I think I am forgetting something,” he admitted.

Anna hummed. She tried to recall things her husband might’ve forgotten. “Aren’t you going to have a meeting with the guys today?” she said helpfully.

Oh, right.

“That must be it.” He nodded and kissed Anna again gratefully. Really, how could he forget it? They had agreed to meet at Mike’s place today. Now, what was it about again—

“Really, Mike. You’re forgetting things so often lately.” Anna reached out to caress his face. Concern was crystal clear in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mike smiled as he enclosed her hand with his. “Don’t worry. Maybe I’m just not fully awake yet.”

Anna opened her mouth, was about to voice out her skepticism when Otis whined about being late. Mike chuckled then ushered them to the door while apologizing to the kids. Anna sighed before placing a small kiss to her husband.

“Take care, love.”

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Mike had washed the dishes and had his second serving of coffee in hope it could freshen his tangled mind. It was empty, the house. Thus, it was silent. He gasped.

“Oh, God!”

He almost spilled his coffee as he swayed. Luckily he was fast enough to grab the counter so he wouldn’t topple down onto the floor. Shakily, he put his mug on the counter in precaution if he insisted to hold the mug by himself.

Seriously now, what was wrong with him? It was like the silence scared him. It choked him and he didn’t understand why. He’d never told anyone, not even Anna, but somehow, he believed, he was developing some sort of phobia toward silence. Not always, just recently, since—

RING.

Another surprise in one morning. Mike practically jumped when the doorbell rang. Probably he should talk to Anna about changing the bell. The one that wouldn’t give a heart attack.

“Brad,” he said simply said at the sight of the guitarist on his doorstep. Somebody else was presence. He felt the odd stream of relieve going on inside him.

“I hope I’m not late,” Brad smirked but soon turned into a frown at seeing his bestfirend’s condition. “You okay?”

Upon hearing the question, Mike noticed his trembling hands as well as his labored breath. Bet his face was questionably pale as well.

“Man, Mike, you look horrible. What’s wrong?” Brad carefully rested his hand on the other’s shoulder. Mike jerked at the contact. The warmth of Brad’s skin assured him that finally he wasn’t alone anymore.

He heaved out. “No,” he managed to say. “I’m fine, Brad. Sorry. Guess I haven’t had enough coffee this morning.”

Brad raised an eyebrow, clearly didn’t buy in the emcee’s words.

“I’m fine, okay,” Mike repeated. He knew that look of Brad and knew his bestfriend would pester him to no end. But he didn’t know a thing himself. He also had no idea of what was wrong to him. There was no point in letting Brad made a big fuss out of it.

Mike led Brad inside and without another words, fetched them both a cup of coffee each. He was aware of Brad’s calculating look toward him but he had no desire to give the guitarist a satisfaction over his speculation, so he merely ignored it.

He glanced at his watch and learnt it was ten minutes before the appointed time. The other would come soon. Perhaps he should brew more coffee. They were a bunch of men addicted to caffeine after all. Especially Chester.

No words were exchanged as Mike busied himself with the coffee. Brad was quiet on his seat, deciding to grab a nearest magazine around and started to read. Mike didn’t intent to start a conversation either. Partly because he was afraid Brad would start interrogating, and another part was because he kinda enjoyed the comfortable silence.

Another rang of the doorbell. Mike guessed it was Dave. Brad volunteered to open the door because Mike was still struggling with the coffee.

“Hope you’re making a lot of that, Mikey. I haven’t yet had my own dose this morning,” Joe, who surprisingly came together with Dave, chirped.

Mike smiled. “Serve yourself. You know where the cups are.”

Rob came not long after. He nodded swiftly to Mike then joined Joe on the couch who had made himself comfortable with coffee and a bag of Cheetos he stole from the Shinoda’s cabinet. Brad and Dave were occupying another couch, talking quietly between themselves. Mike sighed and sipped on his coffee. He always liked his bandmates being together. There was this kind of warmth like the feeling when you see your children together, your family.

He glanced at his watch again. Past five minutes from the approved time. No worries, though. They could give another five, or ten. It was nothing new. From the other’s lack of respond to the tardiness, guess they had been expecting it, or get used by it.

Past twenty. Mike’s cup was half empty and the liquid had gone cold. He scowled then set it aside. His eyes roamed around the room which surprisingly quiet. Rob already had his own cup which he held while gazing to nowhere in particular. The youngest had doing it so often lately. Mike made a mental note to talk to him about it. Joe was nibbling on an Oreo—another snack he stole from the cabinet. Brad occasionally took a piece while making casual talk with the deejay. But Mike knew Brad would steal a worried glance toward him every now and then. And there was Dave, playing with his phone. Mike frowned. The bassist had been more distant lately. Rob wasn’t the only one he would have a word to.

Past thirty. Mike sighed. Even if they were used to it, it was crossing the line already. And the other were thinking the same as they turned restless. Brad even showed his ‘annoyed’ look. He was turning impatient himself. What the hell was that man thinking? He and everybody knew they couldn’t start anything before full members were present.

“Mike,” Brad started. “It’s late.”

Mike looked up to the four expectant looks on him and sighed again. No matter how frequent things like this happened, it was still so tiring.

“He is late again, isn’t he?”

It was no more than a murmur yet everyone in the room heard him. It required some time but finally they found out the meaning of Mike's words. Instantly their faces changed. Mike noticed it and his own face fell.

Realization hit him.

“Mike…”

No. No Brad. Please don’t say it.

“Listen,”

I know.

“He won’t come.”

Sometime Mike woke up in the morning feeling confused.

He wouldn’t remember the reason of his emptiness. The emptiness occurred to the fact that his world was no longer whole. He wouldn’t remember the cause of his fear toward silence. A fear he developed in the knowledge that he was alone when he left. He wouldn’t remember he wasn’t here anymore.

For a moment everything was fine.

Just for a moment.

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I saw this short video of Mike’s interview for KROQ (interview about his EP). He was still stumbling between present and past tense when talking about Chester. My heart can’t be any more broken :(

Hope you enjoy this small standalone of mine. And please support my other story; Chestaline which is lighter than this one :)

Forgive my English. I’m not a native.