written partly during a boring shift at work for the gorj trash who wanted 'chester getting his lip pierced again and reliving his youth' fic. enjoy! reviews are adored (:

Rise Above This

Mike says that he shouldn't do it, that he's not nineteen anymore and that really, it just won't go with the band's current image. Chester glances over at Mike and asks him what the fuck he knows about image.

Mike scowls. "Anyway, didn't you get some infection last time? I'm not kissing you with puss oozing from your lip."

Chester gets up and walks away. Walks out of the studio. Walks across the parking lot and gets into his car.

He drives toward the mall, because if it means not having to kiss Mike then a lip piercing seems like a pretty sound investment.

+

It seems to hurt a little more than before and as Chester sits in the piercing studio eyeing his reflection he thinks that it's probably because when he got his lip pierced the first time round, he was fourteen years old and drunk.

"How's that?"

The lady holding the mirror, the one called Emily who just put thirty dollars worth of stainless steel through Chester's lip asks, a latex gloved hand moving her fringe out of her eyes.

Chester flicks his tongue over the cool metallic stud and grins. He might not remember this the first time round but what he does remember is the way this simple action felt. Weirdly comforting.

"Awesome," he grins, "It's freaking awesome."

Emily, she tilts her head to one said, eyes scrutinizing him.

"What...?" Chester frowns.

"You know what would look great on you?"

Chester shrugs as she places down the mirror.

"A smiley piercing," she tells him, "because you have an amazing smile, it will totally accentuate it."

Thirty minutes later, Chester's walking out to his car. Empty wallet. Mouth full of metal.

+

Mike is not amused. Then again, these days Mike doesn't really have a sense of humour. Apparently he left it in 2007.

"There's a reason you took out your lip ring in the first place," he sighs, not even looking up from the computer screen in front of him.

Chester sits down beside him, picks up a guitar. Through a glass screen Brad is fiddling with a set of amps, Mike harping out instructions via the intercom.

"It looks ugly," Mike continues, "no Brad, not that much," he finally glances up.

"Well, whatever," Chester sighs, "I like it."

"I like a lot of things," Mike is back to looking at the monitor, his fingers tapping against the keyboard, "doesn't mean I go out and do them, fuck the consequences."

"Like what?"

Mike shrugs, "Brad that's it, yeah, no, yes."

Chester strums against the guitar, "like what?" he repeats as Mike glances his way.

"Oh, I don't know, just things."

"If there's something you want to do Mike?"

"Not off hand. I just, no Brad, that's too soft, notch it up a little?"

Chester slams his hand against the guitar. "Mike, you do what you like. You always have done and always will. I can't believe I'm competing against a fucking guitar amp for your attention."

Mike, he barely bats an eyelid as Chester slams his guitar down on the mixing desk and storms away and this, it only angers Chester furthermore.

+

Rob grins. "Did it not hurt? It's so, like, how do they even get it up there?"

Chester shrugs, "it didn't hurt that much."

Rob raises his eyebrows and Chester flops down next to him on the grass. "Okay," Chester admits, "it hurt like a fucking bitch and then when she pierced my tongue, I seriously thought I was going to pass out."

"Did you cry?"

"No," Chester flicks a ladybug in Rob's direction, "I did not cry. But hey, three piercings in one session is pretty hardcore thank you very much."

"You should have told me you were going. I would have held your hand."

Chester laughs but Rob's only part joking. Because Rob, he would have come with Chester, had he asked. Rob's the kind of friend who actually wants to spend time with you. As appose to Mike who thinks that sex every Sunday makes for a healthy relationship.

"You okay man? You're totally away with the fairies."

"Just thinking," Chester sighs and he rolls onto his stomach, glancing up to the sky. When was the last time he did anything like this with Mike? When was the last time they just hung out together for no particular reason? When was the last time they did something together that wasn't band-related?

"And?"

"It's Mike."

"Ahh," Rob nods. "What's he done now?"

"You think I complain too much, don't you?"

"I don't think you complain enough. If I was with someone that treated me like that I'd probably be serving life by now. He didn't like the piercings then?"

"No. Well, he doesn't know I got my tongue and smiley too," Chester shrugs, "but he pulled the serious business voice out when I got my lip done. Apparently I'm too old and it doesn't go with the band's 'image'."

Rob frowns. "We have an image? Has Mike looked in the mirror lately? I swear he sleeps in his clothes."

"I wouldn't know."

"How come..."

"Let's say that Mike's been sleeping in the studio for about a month now. And when he does come home it's Sunday for sex and because I'm a sucker and will cook his favourite meal and fuck me, this is not what I want from life Rob. I feel like his mistress."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Have you tried talking to Mike lately?"

"Fair point."

"I just. Frankly Rob, I want out. I don't want this anymore. All I do is sit around waiting for him to show me some attention. All he does is fuck his time away in the studio. He'd rather spend time with his Pro-Tools than me."

"Well, that's some tough competition you've got there. I mean, have you tried the latest version?"

Chester slaps Rob on the arm, "tried it? I've fucking heard non stop about how fucking rad it is," he laughs then sighs, resting his head against Rob's shoulder. "Rob," he sighs.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I'm in love with him anymore."

It's not like Chester didn't see this coming. It's not like he should be, or has any right to be surprised. But saying it out loud for the first time, he finds his eyes welling up and for a brief moment looks away from Rob dreading that he'll think he's just some fickle monster.

"Hey," Rob sighs, his hand comforting as it slides down Chester's back, "don't worry about it. I kind of had a feeling you were going to say this one day."

Chester sniffs and turns back to Rob, "yeah?"

"The guy treats you like shit Chester. He's about as emotional as a cube of ice."

Chester smiles. And he cries. He stays out there with Rob in his yard until six am the next morning.

+

"It just. It looks awful. It doesn't even look nice. You should take it out. Surely it's not sanitary to have a piercing there?"

Chester sighs and blows on the soup he's eating. It's six pm and this is the first thing Mike has said to him all day. Consider that he's been sat next to him in front of the mixing desk since two o'clock, and you can perhaps figure how pretty fucking hurt Chester feels right now.

"And seriously, no one gets their tongue pierced either these days. It's so grunge-era it's not even funny."

Chester puts his bowl down on the mixing desk. Mike reaches across and moves it swiftly.

"Please take them out," he sighs, finally looking at Chester, "I can hardly look at you with all that metal and..."

"It's three fucking piercings, Mike. And you can't bring yourself to look at me no matter what so don't use them as a fucking excuse."

"I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this. You should go and cool off."

"Cool off?" Chester hisses. "Why don't you tear yourself away from your fucking computer for one minute and fucking talk to me?"

"Like I said, I'll talk to you when you've calmed down."

Through gritted teeth Chester counts to ten. Out loud. Mike just blinks then turns away. Turns back to the fucking mixing desk.

"Mike," Chester finally says, his voice coming out shakily.

Mike slides his fingers across dials, turning and twisting before glancing up but even then, Chester feels like Mike's not really looking at him, more through him. For a fleeting moment Chester studies Mike's face. Tired. Old. Worn. Not the Mike that he remembers all those years ago, standing in LAX with that smile and those warm eyes, holding up a placard that said CHESTER on it in neon pink letters.

"Pink was the only one that would work," Mike had explained, "I've been getting some looks from people."

Chester had smiled immediately as Mike had extended his arm and taken his suitcase for him.

Now that warmth has long gone. Replaced by a cold front. Replaced by Mike who's always too busy, too tired, too preoccupied. This has been going on for several years now, gradually building up to this point. Mike's cold and empty stare as he looks toward Chester, the way his hands are itching to get back to the mixing desk; the way Mike sighs impatiently; it just confirms it really.

Chester clears his throat, "I'm going home."

Mike, he turns back to the mixing desk.

"And," Chester feels a lump forming in the back of his throat. He swallows, forcing it back down. "If you're not home by midnight then," he pauses, waiting for Mike to turn around.

Only Mike just sits there, reaching over for his headphones, free hand shuffling through a stack of lyrics sheets.

Chester sighs. "If you're not home by midnight Mike, then I won't be there in the morning."

Mike pauses, headphones mid-air and Chester finds himself holding his breath. Waiting. Hoping.

He gets nothing. Not a word. And calmly as he can, he picks up his bag and leaves, realising as he walks blindly towards the parking lot that this is probably the last time he'll see Mike.

+

Six am. Chester's bedroom looks like a bomb just hit it. Clothes, shoes, books, you-name-it, scattered everywhere. Rob stands awkwardly in the hallway by a pile of boots and sneakers.

"Thank you," Chester manages to get out, his throat burnt from crying and sobbing and being broken down into a complete emotional wreck. When he called Rob at three am he was considering a bottle of vodka. Rob was over in five minutes flat.

"Stop saying thank you," Rob sighs, "look, we - you - me - whatever, can always come back for more things later. Just grab what you need and let's get you out of here."

Had it been Mike stood there he would be telling Chester what to pack, how many of each thing and saying unhelpful things like, 'no, Chester, you're in your thirties, you don't do baseball boots anymore' which really is why Chester is shoving his beat up Chucks into a bag.

"Okay," Chester looks around the room one more time. He wants to stop and take it all in but if he does that then that's all that'll be left - this sorry mess becoming the last reminder of what he and Mike shared for so many years. Instead, he grabs his car keys and cell phone, shoves his wallet in his back pocket and closes the door on what used to be his and Mike's safe little haven.

Rob out in the hallway, he picks up two of the bags and Chester, grabbing the rest, follows him down the stairs.

Just keep walking, Chester tells himself as they step outside. Just keep going and don't look back.

Rob's car loaded up, Chester puts the remainder of the bags into his beloved Porsche and shuts the trunk. He doesn't look back. He doesn't glance over his shoulder. He just gets in the car and slams the door, coolly starting the engine and following Rob out onto the road.

All the way to Rob's house though, all Chester does is slow whenever a car passes, begging for it to be Mike coming toward him, driving back home.

They pass fifteen cars.

None of them are Mike's.

+

"Stay as long as you need. We'll have a blast."

"Thanks man," Chester nods appreciatively, hoisting his last bag into Rob's spare bedroom.

"You want to go out and grab some breakfast?"

"Sure," Chester nods, "then we better go to the studio. We're supposed to be sorting that song out today, remember?"

"Are you sure? I mean..."

"Yeah so Mike will be there. But let's face it, he's ignored me for long enough now, this isn't going to be any different to any other day."

"Aside from the fact that you've left him and you broke down this morning and almost fell off the wagon?"

"Yeah," Chester nods gravely, "when you put it like that..."

"Come on. Let's just, I don't know, get out of here for the day."

"And do what?"

"Something. Anything? When was the last time you just did something."

Chester points to his lip piercing, "and look where it got me. Studio?"

"Breakfast first," Rob pulls his car keys out, "let's go."

+

"Have you been home yet?"

"No, I slept on the couch."

"Well," Rob pauses and Chester hangs back behind the doorway, chewing on his bottom lip, "you ought to."

Chester watches Mike's shadow move, "why?"

"Chester's left you, you asshole, that's why."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"I assume he's staying with you?"

"Meaning?"

"Nothing. I just figured. I hope you're happy together."

"Jesus Christ Mike, we're not together! I wouldn't fucking do that to you."

"Yeah you would. You always wanted him from the start remember?"

"That was a long time ago. And if I remember right I gave up on that for your sake."

Chester frowns, his throat dry. He wants to step inside, wants to know what the fuck they're talking about. But Rob catches his eye and something says that he should probably not go in all guns blazing.

"You and Chester have broken down because of you, Mike."

"Yeah, I know. Everything's my fault. No matter how hard I try. Yada yada ya."

"Are you drunk?"

"I wish I was."

"What the fuck has happened to you?"

"I changed Rob. Tell that to Chester and tell him that he changed too, he's not all that brilliant either."

Chester clears his throat, steps inside and Mike slowly swings round in his chair.

"How about," Chester smiles, "how about you tell that to me yourself?"

"You're the one that's walked out. Apparently," he adds, glancing at Rob.

"Rob, you couldn't give us a minute alone, could you?"

Rob looks weary but nods his head, "I'll be outside," he nods, slowly edging out of the door.

"I see you left the metal in."

"Yeah."

"Were you not going to tell me yourself that you'd left?"

"Mike - I told you! I told you to come home by midnight or I'd be gone. What, did you think I was just fucking around?"

"Did Rob put you up to that?"

"No! What is this thing you have with Rob?"

"He's in love with you," Mike shrugs, "always has been."

Chester shakes his head in disbelief. Pretty much this is becoming all too much to try and take in. He sighs, digging his hands into his pockets and walks over to Mike, sitting down in front of him on the desk.

"There's nothing going on between us. I can assure you that single-handedly you've put me off relationships for life."

Mike bites his lip and turns away and for one split second Chester feels his walls crumbling down. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "but I can't go on like this."

"It's just the piercings though, Chester," Mike replies meekly, "I mean if you took them out it'd be fine and..."

"It's not just the piercings though," Chester cuts him off, "is it?"

When Mike looks up, Chester isn't expecting to see him crying. But he is. Big, fat tears trickling down his cheeks and Chester has to stop himself from leaning forward and flinging himself around him. He stands up and digs his hands deeper into his pockets.

"I can't do it anymore Mike. I can't be with someone who isn't there for me. No matter how selfish that sounds. I need something back."

Mike wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, swivelling in his chair as Chester walks around him to the mixing desk. All the lyrics they've written together for album number four are filed in alphanumerical whatever the fuck else order. Everything tidy and in its place. Just how Mike likes it. Clean. Boring. Simple.

"I know how you feel about music," Chester turns back to Mike. "I gave up my entire life in Arizona to join this band, remember? But Mike, you," he pauses, "this has gone too far. And I know that it's not a case of you just wanting to spend time writing music or painting or promoting your art shows or whatever else you do. It's more a case of you not wanting to be around me as well."

That does it. That breaks Mike. And this time, Chester can't help but walk over, put his arms around him and try so fucking hard not to let his own tears fall.

"I'm sorry," Mike's sobbing, his head buried into the crook of Chester's neck, "I tried. I tried so fucking hard. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want us to change and for me to..." his voice drifts off and Chester pulls away, wiping Mike's tears from his cheeks.

"We just," Chester sighs, "we just fell out of love with each other, I guess?"

Mike nods his head, "I'm sor..."

"Don't," Chester whispers, pulling Mike against him once again, "don't."

+

"Hiatus doesn't sound so bad," Chester shrugs, "what did the others say?"

"Pretty much agreed. Beside," Rob takes a sip from his coffee, "we've all said we'll come back together at the end of the year. Everyone's got things to do - Joe's film, your solo work, Mike's got some art show..."

"Were they pissed I wasn't there?"

"No! I explained."

"And?"

"Chester, they're not villains. They were naturally worried. But I told them you'd just gone to the therapy session because you were tempted by alcohol. You did the hard bit and called me right away. I think that's a pretty positive sign?"

"I know, that's what the Doctor said," Chester nods, "she also, well, she put an idea into my head."

"Oh God," Rob laughs, "should I be scared?"

"You're an asshole."

Rob grins, "I know."

"Okay, so..."

"What makes you think I even give a fuck about your big idea? You just called me an asshole."

"I said it was an idea, not a big idea."

"Go on then..."

Chester laughs and glances around the coffee house before digging his fingers into his glass of Pepsi and flinging an ice cube at Rob. It misses, scuttling across the table and landing on the floor.

"That's a health and safety hazard," Rob looks at Chester, "if anyone slips they'll sue your sorry white ass."

"And all they'll get is..."

"...Your collection of Madonna CDs and your emo thoughts, yes haven't I heard that one a thousand times before. So shoot."

"Okay," Chester fiddles with his straw, "I'm gonna go away for a while. Maybe do some travelling. Just, well, get away from everything."

Rob nods, "how long for?"

"I'm not sure. Just until I get bored?"

"Cool."

Chester sighs and tilts his head, "Rob?"

"Yup?"

"What I heard Mike saying the other day at the studio about you, y'know..."

Rob smiles, "I think Mike was just upset. You know how he gets. He was trying to blame someone for what had happened. And I happened to be there."

Chester nods, "okay," he slides his muffin toward Rob, "I'm beat." And Rob wastes no time in finishing it off for him. Just like he wasted no time coming to save him that morning.

+

"I can't believe you're only taking one fucking bag. What's happened to you, Chester!?"

Chester looks at the large rucksack he purchased just a few hours earlier, along with a few bare necessities - a journal, mp3 player and strangely enough, a pair of flight socks.

"I just, y'know, I figure I'll end up buying what I need when I get to France."

"Yeah, you'll be straight into some Armani store," Rob laughs.

"No! I'm going backpacking! Like I wanted to when I finished high school."

"Chester, you've technically still not finished high school," Rob points out and throws himself down on his bed.

"Yeah well," Chester sits down beside him, "you know what I mean. I always wanted to just grab a bag and leave. Fuck. I need a camera. I knew there was something."

"You've got one."

"It's a digital one. I want proper one. You know, that I can develop myself when I get back."

"So, you're coming back then?"

"Of course I'm fucking coming back," Chester smiles, prodding Rob in the face, "you gonna miss me?"

"Fuck off."

"Yeah, I thought about as much."

"It'll be quiet. And I won't have to get up at like, six am to use the shower whilst there's still hot water. There won't be any dirty towels in the hallway and my fridge might just have some fucking food in it. I'm quite excited."

Chester just laughs and lies down next to Rob, glancing up at the ceiling.

"You know," Rob sighs, "I will miss you."

"Yeah, I know," Chester grins.

"Hey! You took your piercings out?" Rob frowns, leaning closer.

"Yeah... I kinda, well, they just reminded me of Mike."

"Shame," Rob sighs.

"I know. I wasted money."

"No, not that."

"I shouldn't like Mike ruin things?"

"No, well, yes, that's a fair point. But I read somewhere that people with tongue bars give really good head. You've just disappointed about half your future conquests."

+

LAX. Chester can't help it. He's waiting to board. But also, he's looking around for Mike. Mike from all those years ago, holding up that sign with the neon pink swirly letters, looking a bit sheepish from afar; looking confident and friendly, his handshake warm and....

"Fuck it." Chester hisses to himself, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder. He tried, and failed to pack light and picks up his hand luggage, starts walking toward the hustle and bustle that spreads itself in front of him.

First stop is Paris. Then south France then who knows where. Chester has this mental list of places he wants to visit. Places he visited with the band but never got to see them, not really, because a blurred view from a van between the hotel and whatever airport in whatever country doesn't count.

He glances up at the departure boards, squinting to find his flight when something hits him in the back of the legs. He swears under his breath and shuffles forward, wondering why some people have issues with invading his space. He looks up at the board again, trying to make sense of the mess of numbers and words when this time someone hits him in the back.

"Do you fucking mind?" He swings round.

"Hi."

"Rob! You asshole."

"Asshole? That's twice in two days."

"What are you doing here? I thought I said no to goodbyes. I'll only embarrass you and start to cry, I hope you're prepared."

"Well..."

Chester pauses, following Rob's eyes to the floor. To the bag. The bag that just hit him in the back of his legs.

"Oh," Rob smiles, bending down to unzip the pocket. "Camera. You said you needed a camera and..."

"They look like your underpants to me," Chester tries to suppress his grin.

"Yes."

"Do you always carry your boxers with you? Or is this a special occasion?"

"This is a special occasion," Rob shrugs, "see, I have this crazy friend. And he's going travelling. And I'm kinda going to miss him. And I'm going to worry non stop about him. And even though I know he'll kill me for saying this, I'm scared that if I don't take this chance and go with him that I might not see him again. And I know he has to understand because he's doing this whole backpacking thing because he feels like he missed out on it first time around and pretty much, that's how I feel about him."

Chester stares at Rob, a smile forming across his face. He doesn't know what to say. All that seems to come out of his mouth is an inaudible, "okay."

"Is that an okay I can come? Or okay, Rob you are freaking me out?"

"The former," Chester nods, "though you do freak me out but that's nothing new."

"I just spilled my heart out to you and you're making jokes! Man, you cut me right up, you really do."

"I just... You..."

"Is this good stuttering or bad?"

"Good."

Rob smiles, "camera! Oh wait, it's down here somewhere," he bends down, hands rooting through clothes and books, "oh no, wait, I found something better," Rob stands up, outstretching his hand.

Chester takes the small zip lock bag and frowns, "the tongue bar I took out? Where'd you find this?"

"You left it in my bathroom."

"And..."

"Well, I think it looked good. You shouldn't let other people ruin your fun, remember? You should totally get it re-pierced in Paris."

Chester tilts his head and glances at Rob, "this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that people with tongue piercings give amazing head now, would it?" He narrows his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rob hoists his bag onto his shoulder and holds his hand out to Chester, "shall we check in?"

If last year, you'd told Chester he'd be going travelling with Rob Bourdon, that he'd be leaving the band, that he'd be waking up without the weight of the world on his shoulders, well he would have just glared at you then lit another cigarette, poured another glass of vodka.

And had anyone told Chester that he'd be walking through LAX airport holding hands with Rob then probably he would have choked on a combination of laughs and whatever drink he'd moved on to.

It's funny, Chester thinks as he squeezes Rob's hand, it's funny how things change.

FIN.