|
|
||
|
|
"I Will Never Forget..." continues on from the fictions I
Know What You Did Last Tour and I
Still Know....
Chapter 1 Since the deaths of Limp Bizkit, Davey Havoc and his wife, Samantha, and the second disappearance of Mike Chester's entire world had changed. He'd got out of the music industry, being in it made him an easy target for Mike. He had left the home he and Sam had shared, and had moved into a small, cheap apartment in downtown LA. He barely ever left his apartment. The only time he ever left it was to go to the ATM, go grocery shopping or to buy some smokes. Once a month he would go and visit Samantha's grave. He'd get a cab and go to the cemetery where she was buried. He'd sit for hours talking to her or just staring at the words upon on it. He was back to being poor, destitute and alone. Except his poor or destitute, he was a millionaire. And this time he'd chosen to live this way. The only reason for this chose was Mike. Mike. The word echoed through his head like a child's voice in a cave. Repeating over and over again, decreasing steadily in volume until it eventually just faded out. Except in Chester's head it didn't decrease in volume or fade out. It stayed within his skull bringing painful images back to life in the theatre of his brain. Mike the performer. He could the emcee by his side, leaping around the stage. His movements filled with passion, fuelled by the adrenaline prompted by the screaming fans. He'd been a natural on stage, a poor crowd pleaser, serious but fun, enjoying every moment of it. Mike the friend. He would give Chester advice and cheer him up in times of woe when he missed Sam or something had happened. Mike's smile could always cheer Chester up no matter what was going on. Mike the killer. Mike the murder. Mike the psychopath. Chester was forever scarred with three images of the OTHER side of Mike. There was the image of Mike stood over him the first time round, telling him it was all his fault, a look of pure hatred embedded deep within his eyes. The image of Mike stood in Chester's room, seconds after he had ended Davey Havoc's existence, a cruel, callous smirk upon his beautiful face. The final image of the Mike was after he had just torn Chester's labret stud from his lip and he casually asked the mocking question, 'Aw, is poor little Chesty hurt?' Mike the lover. There were too many images of this Mike to count. Chester had never loved or been loved like that before. Happiness knew no boundaries, bliss had no walls, ecstasy had no barriers. There was never an unhappy moment with this Mike. Mike's voice could make Chester's heart skip a beat as it whispered sweet nothings into his impatient ears. The feel of Mike's touch upon his flesh could make Chaz's entire being burn with pleasure, as if a naked flame had been placed within his body. Yes, Mike knew exactly how to touch Chester, he had the power to make Chaz go weak at the knees and tingle with desire. He'd never had such good sex or orgasmed as hard as he had with his first and only male partner, not even Samantha had been able to make him feel that good. He'd felt safe and loved in those arms and he could still feel them wrapped around him. Chester allowed his mind to go into overdrive and was hit with every Chester's body jolted as a foreign noise entered his fantasies, yanking his unwilling mind back into the cruel reality that was life. The noise came again as Chester struggled to quell his stiffness so he could answer the door. He pulled open the door, concealing his dying hard on behind it. A young Hispanic guy stood holding a carrier in his hand. 'Hey, Mr Bennington, that'll be $12.50,' the guy held out the bag to the 'Keep the change,' Chester muttered, handing the guy a twenty dollar bill and taking the carrier from him. Chester now sat, still staring at MTV, but now with a full stomach. Infront of him lay the remains of greasy, overcooked rice and chicken in something that barely qualified as a sauce. He swigged the final mouthful of his beer and rose from the couch he had occupied for most of the day. Clicking of the TV, he made his way to his room. he stripped himself of his pants and tee, leaving him in nothing but white boxers. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, he rested his head in his hands and stared at the floor. After a time he looked up and took hold of his beloved guitar. Where should I start Disjointed heart I've got no commitment To my own flesh and blood Left all alone Far from my home No one to hear me, to heal my ill heart, I Keep it locked up inside Cannot express To the point I've regressed (If?) anger's a gift, then I guess I've been blessed, I Keep it locked up inside Keep my distance from your lies It's too late to love me now You helped me to show me It's too late to love me now You don't take a word in The following morning Chester rose and showered as always. Now he was stood fresh from the shower, staring at his foggy reflection in the mirror. His skin was slick with slowly evaporating water, his hair dripped wet and a crisp white towel covered his bare essentials. He stared at his reflection with scrutinising eyes. He'd changed quite a bit. His hair was a torrid mess of simple brown, no artificial substance altered its colour any longer. He lifted his left hand and ran a finger over his lip. A raised line ran from his labret and through his lip. The was now a permanent scar forever worked into his facial features. The tear Mike had made when he'd dislodged Chester's labret stud had needed several stitches and now made a disfigurement. Chester's attention moved from his lip to his left arm. The tattooed carp was no longer perfect, a thin raised line of flesh ran through it. The scar was a result of a knife slash from Mike. The centre of his chest also held a scar from where the edge of the knife that had killed Davey Havoc had pierced Chester's own flesh. Returning his eyes back to his reflection, he stared into his own eyes and was hit by memories. His and Sam's wedding day. She'd looked radiant, the day had been perfect. The only error was the lack of rings to exchange. But they'd made up for that by having them permanently tattooed. Getting the Hybrid Theory soldier tattooed on his calf. He'd laid across some chairs, a beer in one hand, a smoke in the other, as some guy in a Linkin Park tee made the image permanent. He had been surrounded by the Hed (PE) guys and the rest of Linkin, as Mike filmed the whole thing. He'd one to show how proud he was of Hybrid Theory and also how proud he was of its designer, Mike. Mike. The sexual tension between them had been incredible. Once on stage Mike's hand had brushed against a sensitive area and Chester had just stopped, mid-song as a shiver ran up his spine. Another night in some restaurant, Mike had needed to go to the bathroom and he ad to squeeze past Chester to get out. Their bodies had been so close, Chaz could smell Mike and feel his heat, not been able to touch him had been torture. They'd had to do an interview together and through out the whole thing they'd been very touchy-feely and acting gay as always. As Chester drove them back to the hotel they were arguing over some pointless. In annoyance, Chester had pulled over so they could settle it. As they talked Chester made his move. He moved his head forward, meeting Mike's lips with his own in a quick and frenzied kiss. He pulled away and found Mike staring back at him. In one motion both men had reached for one another, pulling themselves close. Chester slid his tongue between Mike's lips, Mike meeting it with his own. The kiss soon ended and without a word, Chester drove them back to the hotel. Upon arrival to the hotel, both men went up to Mike's room. as Chester closed the door, he'd found himself being pushed against it. Mike's lips had close around Chester's bottom lip, gently sucking on it and pulling it down. With the amount of passion they'd had between them, they'd found themselves pulling off each other's clothing, not quite sure what they were doing but doing it nonetheless. Afterwards they'd aid in each other's arms. Mike's arm protectively around Chester's shoulders, Chester's fingertips dancing lightly on Mike's clammy, tanned stomach. That night they'd made excuses not to go out with the rest of the guys. Mike had told them he didn't feel too good and Chester had said that he'd stay with Mike. They'd gone out for something to eat and to discuss what was going. Their meal got cut short though as they headed up to Chester's room and replayed the days earlier events. Mike had to sneak back to his room so that they didn't get caught. They'd continued like that for quite awhile until one night things changed. They'd spent the night together as always and Mike was sleeping in Chester's arms. Chester sat and watched Mike sleep so peacefully, he'd looked even more beautiful than usual. 'I love you, Mike.' The words had slipped out into the quiet of the night as Chester's lover slept on. When they both woke later, Mike's first words had been 'I love you too, Chester.' They just stared at each other before kissing with more passion than ever before. They made a decision to tell the guys because they believed love couldn't be hidden. The others had been pretty fine with it, but a little freaked. They were not freaked by the homosexuality but by the fact that two of their best friends had homosexual tendencies towards each other. After that everything had been perfect, until- until Andy had caught them. Chester sat down on the edge of the bath, his head in his hands. His temples pounded as his mind raged and his tears flowed, burning his eyes. Knowing what he needed, he stood but it was too quickly. Chester suffered a head rush making him sit back down but he missed the bath and hit the floor, scraping his back on the side of the bath as he landed. Wincing from pain and discomfort, Chester took hold of the sink and pulled himself to his feet. Carefully he opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out two pill containers. Opening them both he put some pills in the palm of his hand. He took two aspirin to cure his headache and some Prozac to try and make him feel better. He took another look at himself in the mirror and then made his way to his room using the wall for support. Once in his room Chester dressed in jeans and a tee. He contemplated his chains or dog collar but decided to just stick with the chain he always wore which had Samantha's wedding ring on. He looked around his room. It wasn't untidy, he kept the place as clean as you could a place like that. He wasn't as obsessively compulsive as he used to be because after the amount of psychological damage he'd suffered things like that just weren't as important anymore. Chester made his way into the kitchen so he could get some breakfast. He searched the cupboards for something to eat and came up with Pop Tarts. he put them in and prepared himself some coffee. He returned to the living room and clicked on MTV. The daily news was coming on and some McFaden guy was introducing himself. '...and welcome to Daily Edition on March 20th 2004,' the guy smiled. Chester laughed aloud, 'Happy Birthday Chester. Happy 28th fucking Birthday.' He'd managed to successfully forget his own birthday. Again he laughed aloud and his inadequacies. A noise alerted him that his Pop Tarts were ready so Chaz returned to the kitchen to make breakfast. He got his Pop Tarts, managing to burn his hands as he retrieved them. Chester poured himself some coffee and made his way back to the living room to watch MTV and devour breakfast. He sat down, making himself comfortable on his worn couch. Taking a bite of his Pop Tart he cried out as the steaming contents burnt the insides of his mouth. He was even more startled when his phone rang, no one EVER called him. 'Hello?' Chester picked up the cordless and spoke through a mouthful of 'Hi Chester, honey.' 'Mom! Hey, what's up?' Chester swallowed. 'Happy Birthday honey,' his mom's voice entered his head. 'Thanks, mom,' Chester replied, drinking his coffee. 'How are you doing honey?' her voice ripped with concern for her son. 'I'm as well as can be expected,' Chester explained. 'Well, hon, you know there's always a place for you here,' his mom told him as she always did. 'Mom, you know I'm not gonna come back to Phoenix. I can't leave Sam,' Chester's eyes watered slightly as his thoughts turned to his dead wife. 'Why couldn't you have had her buried here? It's her home!' Chester's mom wanted him with her, in safety with his family. 'Our home was here, in LA! I'm her only living relative and I don't wanna leave her and I wanted her with me. I'm sorry but I just don't want to live in Phoenix,' Chester was exasperated. He was fed up of having this argument, and giving his reasons. She knew damn well that he feared for her safety and so he wanted to keep his distance and be alone so that he wasn't a danger to anyone. 'OK, OK. Just as long as you know there's always a place for you here with me and you step father,' her voice sounded strained, as if she was trying to stay calm and level headed. She was just as scared for Chester's life as he was. 'Thanks, mom,' Chester really was truly grateful for her concern. 'OK, hon. Anyway, I gotta go. I love you, we all do,' she reminded him that his family was still there for him. 'I love y'all too.' 'Bye Chester.' 'Bye Mom.' He hung up. The conversation with is mom had depressed Chester a little bit more. He missed his family, his friends, his life. He hated being alone and he hated Mike even more because of it. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and rose from the couch. He grabbed his jacket and keys and left his apartment to go and buy some cigarettes as he'd run out and he really needed a smoke. Chester opened his apartment door and lit a second cigarette. He could feel the nicotine running through his veins and it felt damn good. He discarded his jacket and a flashing light caught his eye. He looked up and managed to locate the origin of the light. His answer machine. He had voicemail! Fuck, today must be his lucky day. He clicked play and slumped down on the couch. 'You have one message, message one,' the mechanical voice told him. 'Mr Bennington, this is Detective Inspector Charmers of LAPD. As I promised I would only call when something came up regarding you case, well something came up and its imperative that you call me immediately.' *BEEP BEEP BEEP* 'End of Messages.'
|
|
| TOP | Last updated 15 February 2002 19:42 (AUS EST / +1000 GMT). | ||
