Category Linkin Park

Smile by shinobi

Just a little piece of parkfiction that I wrote the other day in an attempt to get rid of my writer’s block that I seem to have 24/7....

Title ~ "Smile"

Fandom ~ Linkin Park

Pairing ~ none really

Genre ~ Angst

Disclaimer ~ don't own LP, just fiction.

A/N ~ very short, angsty.... just a little piece I wrote after getting pissed off with trying to complete "What's Love....."

~ Smile ~ by shinobi ~

When you look at me with your eyes

That smile on your face it seems happy

Are you happy? ~ grey daze ~ TDS

He's sitting there again. Alone, in the dark, knees pulled up to his chest. He stares ahead of him, eyes cold and empty. Just staring and staring. He always sits like this. Every night without fail you'll find him in the back room of our tour bus, just him alone, by himself.

I don't know what he's thinking. I stopped knowing what he was thinking a long time ago. He doesn't let anyone know what's on his mind anymore. He doesn't let me know anything.

He carries on staring ahead of him, eyes blinking a few times as he yawns. He rests his head back down against his knees and closes his eyes.

He used to tell me everything, I mean everything. We were known as the 'terrible twins' in kindergarten, we did everything together, that's how long we've known each other. Since we were just three years old we've been the best of friends. Went through school then college together, we were inseparable.

Now he barely tells me a thing.

He's ill, I can tell that much, we all can but he won't let anyone help. He cries himself to sleep every night, thinks that no one hears him. Thinks that no one hears him sobbing his heart out night after night, but we do, we all do.

Then there's the nightmares. He has them nearly every night now, wakes up about three in the morning, screaming and crying. I'm always there, we all are, to hold him, calm him down, stop with him until he stops shaking. Some nights he doesn't even sleep. He just sits in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling.

He's started harming himself too. I've seen the cuts on his arms, the bruises on his hands where he ‘banged it on the door' but there's no getting through to him, no way of helping him.

We tried to cancel the tour, tried to persuade him to take a break and get some rest but he refused. He shouted at us, told us that performing every night was the only thing that kept him going. We haven't dared to bring it up again. There's only a few nights left though. Three more nights of worrying.

Every night on stage he gets worse. He performs everything almost perfectly, just like he always has done but he flies about the stage with so much energy, so much fire, so much anger in his voice that it's starting terrify the rest of us... we're scared he's going to flip.

We don't even know what's brought it on. I can't even remember when he started acting this way. Time tends to merge when you've been on the road for nine months without a break. I've tried, we've all tried, to rack our brains, figure out what went wrong but it's no use. None of us have got any idea.

It's like we're losing him now. He barely speaks to anyone and if he does it's just a nod of the head or a muttered 'yes' or 'no'. He doesn't laugh anymore. I miss his laugh so much, it was so contagious, you heard him giggle and you just had to join in, it just brought a smile to you face.

I hear a sniffle and look up. His eyes are open once more, staring bleakly ahead as a tear slowly trickles it's one down his cheek.

I can't bare to watch him like this anymore.

Getting up from the floor, I quietly step into the back room, letting out a sigh as I stand in the doorway.

He jumps slightly and quickly wipes his tears away with his fingers, "Brad," he smiles weakly.

I smile back and sit beside him, wrapping my arm around his shoulder, "What's wrong?" I ask softly, trying to comfort him, stop his tears from falling.

"Nothing." He sniffs and smiles back at me.

His smile isn't the same anymore though, not the one that used to light up his eyes, not the one that used to be so genuine, so sincere.

"Why won't you tell me?" I sigh, my hands wiping away his cold tears.

"I'm fine," he sighs, a smile playing on his lips.


"I'm okay," he smiles again.

I stare back at him. He's never going to tell me is he? He's never going to tell me the truth.

That's when I realize, I'm not losing him. I've already lost him, a long time ago and there's no bringing him back, is there?

"Don't worry about me," he whispers.

And still he smiles, smiles back at me.


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