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He lay there quietly staring at the ceiling. He sighed heavily, and stretched his arms out to the Gods, begging them to transcend from the heavens and into his small unit.

Above the bed loomed a huge Linkin Park poster taped to the ceiling. Various other posters were also tacked up, spreading to the edges of the ceiling and down all four walls. The occasional newspaper clipping on the far wall, where his small desk and hifi stood, broke up the sea of posters. The desk was covered with various spray cans, cardboard, his laptop, and odd bits of paper torn out from his sketchbook.

He closed his eyes and let his arms flop back onto the bed. He was exhausted from the evening’s activities. But he was pleased with his work – Linkin Park would be proud.

A chime noise from his laptop brought his mind back to the conscious world again. He had forgot about it again – his laptop was still running and connected to the Net.

Wishing he could just lie on his bed, content; he couldn’t. The lure was too good. An email from one of his online friends. Resistance was futile.

He groaned as he swung his feet onto the floor and tried his best to stand. Instantly regretting it he made his best attempt at staggering over to his laptop. He slumped onto the chair and grabbed his wristwatch. Trying to read the numbers he groaned again – at 3:35 in the morning he should be sleeping.

He dropped the watch back onto the pile of junk that covered his desk. Pushing some of the clutter to the side, he dragged the laptop closer and opened the case. He searched around for his glasses to make the display easier to read.

Giving the glasses a quick wipe, he put them on and ran his fingers through his bleached spiked hair. The gel that held the spikes in place was getting very old now, and he couldn’t possibly imagine what he looked like.

He smiled while he read the email, something he hadn’t done in a while.

Hey Nicko, some mad tags you did tonight.. but damn I don’t know what your obsession with LP is! –AJ

He thought back to his artwork tonight – and it was artwork in his mind. The cops had other opinions about graffiti though.

Closing the laptop down again he stood up and wandered back to his bed. He lay back down on top of the sheets and stared vacantly up to the poster. Where was Linkin Park when he needed them?

He had promised he wouldn’t start this again, but he couldn’t help it. Tears pricked his eyes as his body began to shake from the quiet sobs he tried to keep within himself. Where was Linkin Park? WHERE was Linkin Park?

Nicholas had been a dedicated fan for almost a year now. No one had even heard of Linkin Park back then; it didn’t even exist. He let his mind wander back to his favourite memory – the day he heard of Chester Bennington.

The semi-dream was vivid and full of colour. He was sitting at his laptop as usual, downloading mp3 music files off some music network. All of a sudden a user message popped up, disrupting his train of thought.

“Hey. I’m a new singer and I need my jive heard. You like hip-hop and grunge?”

“Yeah okay.. give me a filename and I’ll listen to it for you.”

“Sure – it’s Grey Daze – B12. Have a listen and tell me what you think.”

He tried his best to hold onto that memory, but the dream mist was clearing quickly from his vision and reality was returning.

“You think I’m stupid. Stay out of my way-” he mumbled to himself. Oh how he loved Linkin Park. He could proudly boast he was the very first Chester fan in the world.

But lately he had become more and more frustrated though. At a Linkin Park gig he asked Chester while getting his CD signed if he remembered him from that day on the Net almost a year ago. Chester just gave the guy a weird look, then turned to the next person in line to sign their CD.

“The bastard doesn’t even remember me!” Nicholas screamed aloud. He surprised himself at the volume in his voice. Somewhere far below his window the neighbour’s dog began barking.

“Oh, but won’t Chester know me now,” he mumbled to himself. He smiled again at the satisfaction of his artwork. In just the one night he had tagged 20 more buildings with LP logos and slogans. Across the pavement outside his place now read “If anger’s a gift then I’ve been blessed.” He was pleased with that – it was his favourite Chester quote.

He lay there quietly now – still staring at his poster.

His mind didn’t quite match his exterior; his mind was already formulating designs for tomorrow night.

“You’ll remember me, Chester Bennington,” he whispered to himself. “Just you wait.”

THE END | Short Fics

Part 1