LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Frantic by UnwillinglyMasked

Frantic

Disclaimer: I don't own Linkin Park or anything related to them. I just write about them.

A/N: Just a very sad story. Another typical, sad story. I had this posted on FFNET. I wrote it about a year ago, but I tried to make it better. So if it isn't up to my usual standards...you know why. If you haven't heard LP's new song "Somewhere I Belong" you totally suck! Go to www.lpassociation.com and download it! It's amazing. Look on the main page for it. Go read my Murderdoll's fic "Twenty-Two"!! I need reviews for it!


~Frantic~


My ears fill with the faint sound of the thick carpet hitting against my bare feet. Only I can hear the muted sound that seems to follow me down the narrow hallway. I stop suddenly as the sound of rustling sheets creeps into the dark hallway. My eyes fall upon the half opened door to my left. The tall, lanky figure squirms in his sleep. I hear a sigh escape from Rob's lips. Content that I haven't disturbed him, I quietly go on my way.

I cautiously place my hand on the doorknob of the door at the end of the hallway. Slowly I push the door open. I swiftly glance over to one of the beds that rest against the wall. The shapely mass appears to be sleeping soundly. His lush lips are curved into content smile.

Moving swiftly but soundlessly towards the bed, I try my best to slow my breathing. This man is the lightest sleeper I know. Even the sound of my breather can wake him. I squat down beside the sleeping man and look on happily. The thin rays of artificial light from the streetlight outside seep in through the window panes. They fall upon him, perfectly accenting his creamy, tanned skin and dark lashes. I gently brush the back of my pale fingers along his cheek. The contrast between our skin tones is almost startling. I lean forward and delicately place my soft lips on his forehead. My eyes close, and I take in the sensation of his flesh against my own.

With a smile plastered on my face, I draw back from his warmth. For the last year it has been a ritual of mine to place a gentle, sweet kiss on my lover's forehead before crawling in beside him. Every night his eyes flutter open, and he smiles gratefully then pulls me in beside him. We then fall into a peaceful slumber wrapped in each other's embrace. Tonight, his eyes remain closed, the innocent smile not showing a single sign of emotion. A puzzled look crosses my face.

"Mike." I whisper softly. No response.

"Mike." I gently run my hand over his cheek.

"Mikey." I say in a slightly louder tone, still no reaction.

I run my finger through his dark locks affectionately. The blue and red highlights engulf my fingers. He must be toying with me. He has always loved joking with me. Once he begged me to play hide and seek. After a little persuasion, I agreed to play. He ended up hiding in the shower, in the nude. I walked into the bathroom, saw the steam filling into the bathroom, then saw him motioning for me, grinning the whole time. Yes, he must be playing with me. I smile deviously. I rise and walk over to the other side of the bed, preparing to startle him from behind. Before I lay down on the bed, my eye catches sight of a white object barely peeking from underneath the edge of the comforter, which is lying limply on the ivory carpet.

I reach down and grasp the object. I hear the soft rattle of the contents kept inside. It's a medicine bottle. I turn the label so the dull light falls upon the print. Sleeping pills. Mikey doesn't take sleeping pills. I rattle the bottle. It sounds like only one pill remains. I unscrew the top and look into the hallowed out container. Only one left....

A tortured thought runs through my mind. No, Mikey wouldn't. I shack my head vigorously, trying to evict the thought. I reach slowly across the bed, my hand trembling. It falls upon what feels like Mike's arm. As my weight is pressed against the spot, I feel liquid seep through the sheets. A lump forms in my throat. I force myself to swallow and withdraw my hand. Inhaling deeply I turn my hand over, already knowing what I will see.

I feel my stomach quickly rise then fall. My fingers are covered with a thick, scarlet liquid. The metallic sent of blood fills my nostrils. A muffled cry escapes me. My consciousness threatens to slip away from me. I force myself to concentrate. I stare at my trembling, blood-drenched hand.

"Mike." I say firmly, the last drops of hope fading away with the one syllable.

"Mike!" I realize my voice is quivering.

I roughly pull back the cool sheets. A whimper gets caught in my throat. Two pools of crimson blood stain the sheets, each surrounding one of Mike's lifeless hands. I lunge my body forward onto Mike's body. What was once a constant rhythmic beat no longer rings through the young man's chest. I quickly rise and shake Mike violently. His head jostles to the side.

"Mike!" I scream.

I cower away from his body and back myself into the wall.

"No, no, no!" I whisper frantically.

The corpse that lies on the bed cannot be the Mike Shinoda I know. I quickly stumble out of the room and forcefully throw my body against the first door I see. I fumble for the handle and barge in. The figure in the right bed bolts upright. His eyes are wide and his breathing is fast.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Dave asks in rage.

I step forward, trying my best to talk. My whole body is trembling. I double back and feel my body hit the wall behind me. I slide down it until I feel the floor connect with my tailbone. Sobs rack my body. Dave quickly scrabbles from his bed and comes to my side.

"Chester! What happened?" Dave ask, concern apparent in his voice.

I look at my hands. The blood is still slightly damp. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. I try to speak, but the words get caught in my throat. My vocal chords refuse to function properly.

"Chester!" Dave says shaking me slightly.

"M-Mm-Mike!" I manage to stammer. My hand limply motions to the room that Mike and I share.

"Shit." Dave murmurs and races across the hall.

I hear Dave's scream coming from the other room. At the sound, the man in the other bed suddenly awakes. He looks around for a moment, trying to grasp what's going on.

"What is it?" Brad slurs sleepily.

I hear Dave pick up the phone in the other room. Brad looks at me, confusion etched into his expression.

"Mike! He killed himself!" I stammer in between weeping.

Brad's eyes widen in pure horror. He fumbles from the entangled sheets that trap him and runs from the room. I hear loud, chaotic footsteps coming down the hall. I see Rob standing in the doorway, his face bewildered.

"Chester, what's wrong? What the fuck happened!"

"Rob!" I rise and throw my arms around Rob's body, trying to find comfort in somebody.

"Shh, Chaz. What happened?"

"Mike!" I say hysterically.

"Chester, what about Mike?" Rob says, panic seeping from his words.

"Chester! What about Mike!?" Rob says prying me away from him and looking me in the eye.

"Rob, he killed himself! Mike killed himself!" I say softly.

"Oh my God...." Rob says, the color rushing from his face.

I hear the shaking sobs of Brad coming from my room. Dave is frantically trying to give the house address to the operator on the phone. Joe is standing in the doorway of Mike's bedroom, his body frozen. Rob stares ahead, his eyes broad, his mouth slightly open. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. Why? Why did he do it?

Slowly, I will myself up from the ground. I walk out of the room and down the hallway. I enter Mike's room and walk over to the lifeless form on the bed. This is my Mike, my own little Mikey, my best friend, my lover, my everything.

I lie down beside him, my head resting on his chest. My fingers explore his chest. He's still warm. How long had it been? Could I have stopped him? My tears fall onto his skin. Why isn't he here to comfort me!? Why won't he take me into his arms and tell me everything's okay? Why!?

Why had he done it? He had a perfect life! He was a worshiped man. He was living his dream. Was it me? Had I done something? Why did he want out so bad? Could he not take the fame? Was it just a pathetic cry for attention? Why on earth would he choose to take something so precious as his own life?

Several moments later the paramedics come into the room. Dave comes and takes me away from him. I sob louder as I feel my fingers being taken from him. Dave holds me close to him, our tears falling on each other's shoulder. I see Mike being lifted into a body bag. The grim expression of the paramedics sickens me. They try to look sympathetic but fail miserably. I walk over to look at him once more.

We had such great lives together. It was me and Mike; it was us. Never again will there be an us, never. Mike's gone. And I don't even know why. I look down at the man I love. He looks so...at peace. The last thing I see before the metallic zipper closes the black bag is Mike's signature smile. When he was in this world, that smile could make everything right. Now he's gone, and that damned smile is nothing but a painful memory.



A/N: That's it. No more chapters. Not a sequel. This is all. No matter how much you beg, lol. Now leave me a review. And go read my Murderdolls fic "Twenty-Two"!!!!! Peace, love, and fanfiction.

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