Banner by PaperWulf

(A/N) This story is a collaboration between Akira from Crates and myself :) She is my beautiful Italian Princess and without her I don't think I would have ever come up with this story or even be able to make it seem so . . . Italian! I wanted my beautiful Syrian Princess, LinkinFreak, to collaborate as well, but she is so busy with school! So, Reem, I'm going to add you in here and I hope you like your character!! <3 And just to paint a picture of what Mike's apartment looks like, I've provided a link!

 

http://www.property-spain.com/images/miraflores-studio1.jpg

 

Thanks to those that read and reviewed “Oops . . . Wrong Tent”!! I WILL be making a standalone (and yes I mean a standalone, not a chapter standalone lol) of Rob and Brad since you guys are all begging for it :) I don't normally write anything but M/C, but I shall for you all!!! <3 I will call it “Oops . . . Wrong Bed”! I don't know why I'm calling it that . . . maybe because Rob goes over to Mike's house to talk to him about Brad but Chester is there and oddly enough Brad goes over to Mike's to talk about Rob . . . so . . . guess where they do it!!! MUAHAHA!

Ok . . . on with the story!

Disclaimer-- THIS IS JUST FICTION!!! That means that us little fangirls dug this up from the back of our sick twisted minds for your entertainment ONLY. Do not take this story seriously! Although, it would be awesome if this were true :P

 

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The Translation of 'Amore'

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::::...::::::Primo Capitolo::::.:::::.

 

Today is the deadline for the “Twilight Allure” catalog and Mike just couldn't seem to get the paintings right. He scrubbed his face with his hands painfully, groaning as he sat in front of his easel, the blank canvas torturing him. He had his wooden palette with an array of collars in thick, concentrated puddles splaying over the semi-circular tool and a new paintbrush that hadn't even been stained by color yet.

 

“I'm going out of my fucking mind.” His deep voice was muffled by his hands as he hunched in his chair.

 

“Sorry, buddy, but Brad needs that painting today. Just paint some hot chick dancing in the moonlight or something.”

 

Mike looked up at the Korean in annoyance. Joseph Hahn, a loyal friend and confidant to Mike Shinoda. Both are successful and talented artists; having graduated the top of their class at Pasadena Art in California. They are both working for a magazine called “BmuseD”, owned by their boss and Mike's friend since high school, Bradford Delson – hence the 'B' and 'D' fused into the word 'muse'. Cleaver, isn't it? The magazine collaborates articles, photographs and artwork based off fan-chosen topics that are voted upon every month. Brad absolutely loves to give the people what they want, so basically everything has to be perfect.

 

“I just can't work in this office right now! It's driving me crazy.” He sighed, standing up and setting his equipment down on the worktable in his office.

 

He scoffed at the term 'office'. It was a small room filled with Mike's paintings. The wall opposite of the door was covered in windows that spanned the length of the side from top to bottom, left and right. That was the only thing he truly even considered using the word 'like' in conjunction to his office: he liked being able to see out into the overlooking park that was stationed just down the street from their building. The light gray carpet was splotched with spilled paint and the walls were a boring white. At least he had almost every inch covered with his fanciful work.

 

“Mikey, you're an amazing artist . . . you just lost your muse, I guess.” Joe couldn't help but chuckle at his jesting use of 'muse'. “Get it? It's the magazine name and the thing you're missing?”

 

“Hah-hah-hah.” Mike's almond eyes squinted into a daring glare, unamused with his friend's failing attempt to cheer the half-Japanese man up. “If I could just go out and find something that caught my eye, I just might be able to finish this Goddamn piece. How do you keep doing this? How do you do what Brad wants you to do week after week and be content with it?”

 

“I don't think it's that you dislike the topics Brad is giving us, you're just being emotional. I think it's the fact that you have lost interest in art.”

 

Mike walked over to the long window, gazing out from the sixth floor and peering over at the playing children and their smiling, laughing parents as they frolicked in the warmth of the sun on a cold winter day in December. “I'm not emotional, Joe; there is a related distinction between the emotion to which I am feeling and the causes behind my emotional distress. And I haven't lost interest in art . . . I just . . . I guess it's just all I have and it's beginning to get to me.” The love of art wasn't lost from him, it was stolen. Taken away abruptly when she died.

 

Joe walked over to his sullen friend, placing a reassuring hand on the taller man's shoulder and giving it an affirming squeeze. “I think you need to go talk to Brad.”

 

Mike sighed, turning from the window without a word and stalked out of his office. Joe watched as his friend left. He felt so badly for the guy, wishing there was something he could do for him. He hadn't been the same since Anna's death, or rather, the death of their relationship. She may as well have been dead to him. Anna was his high school sweetheart. They had been together on and off for six years – they had broken up just after high school and had gotten back together during his second year of college. He had deemed it fate; that they were supposed to be together. It's been three months since he had found her in bed with another man; since she was crudely taken from him. He had just proposed to her the night before . . . and then he caught his new fiance in bed, staring petrified as she lay on top of a dark-skinned Adonis. Mike stopped believing in a lot of things that day. He even questioned if she owned a heart.

 

He shoved his hands in his pocket as he walked down the busy hallway, shoving past hard-working, busy 'drones' as he liked to refer to them. All anyone ever did in this office was work, work, work. He was beginning to wonder if the world had anything else to offer besides keeping hands from becoming idle. Poor Mike was having a hard time just getting them to function, let alone keep them busy.

 

He tapped on the half-open mahogany door, hearing a quick approval of entrance coming from inside. Mike stepped through the threshold of Brad's office. It was larger than Mike's, but it was difficult to tell with all the clutter littering the floor and his large desk. He had his hands readily on the keyboard of his computer, staring intently at the screen as his eyes scanned the document he was working on. High stacked piles of papers and articles were scattered in disarray across his desk, seeping onto the floor next to it.

 

“Mike! Have a seat.” Brad smiled as he glanced up from his computer, sighing as he stretched his cramped fingers. Mike sat in the navy blue cushioned chair, folding his hands in his lap. “What's up?”

 

One advantage of being the best friend of your boss is a lot of leisure and special attention.

'Ah, the perks of being important.' Too bad he couldn't allow himself to feel that way. “I don't know if I will have that piece ready by five.”

 

Brad's bushy brows furrowed, but he didn't notate any other distress. “Is everything alright? You're usually diligent with the paintings. Has Joe shown you his photographs for the article? I'm sure it will help spark an idea.”

 

“I don't know, man . . . I've just been having . . . troubles lately.” His brown eyes averted towards the window. He always seemed to be attracted to the outside world, staring vacantly outward like he's trapped on the inside. It was heartbreaking to witness – even for a jolly guy like Brad.

 

“Anna was the perfect inspiration, wasn't she?” Mike only frowned more, the deep lines of fatigue and melancholy haunting his boyish features. It made him look withered and defeated. “She was a good friend of mine too, if you don't remember. When you told me what happened, I made sure to give her a piece of my mind.”

 

“How do you do it, Brad?” His boss and friend was confused by the question and furrowed his brows. “How is it that you're content with banging a different chick every couple of weeks? You have girls throwing themselves at you and you just as easily toss them back into the water like a fish. How do you not get attached; settle down?”

 

Brad shrugged and answered as honestly as he could. “We are twenty five years old, Mikey, we are supposed to fuck as many girls as we can so that when we find the one – if there is such a thing – we'll be a completely devoted little man-servant.”

 

“You make love sound so . . . demeaning. When Anna and I were together, everything seemed perfect and I felt untouchable. I could paint without a minute's break, without a single flaw. Now, I can't even fucking paint a damn woman in twilight without making her sad or deplorable. I can't make the sky beautiful shades of pink and purple because I'm too focused on black and gray and making the sky crack and crumble like the world around me. I'm fucked up Brad, that bitch fucked me up. I don't know what to do.”

 

“Um . . . I think you need a vacation.” Brad chuckled awkwardly, feeling a little unsettled at his friends melodramatics. Mike just stared at him, not believing Brad even knew what the word vacation meant. “I know why you're looking at me like that. Yes, I'm pushy when it comes to business, but you're my best friend. You're breaking, dude, and this company needs you; I need you. So, I need you to be pristine, alright? Do what you can for me on that painting; I'll take what you give me, but I need it by five. Go get some lunch with Joe, get some coffee in ya and work on that piece for me when you get back.”

 

Mike nodded, standing sluggishly from his seat and shuffling out the door. He saw Joe out of the corner of his eye as he left Brad's office. It wasn't unlike Joe to be concerned enough to eavesdrop. Mike never seemed to mind much. Though he didn't show it, the lonely man felt a little more at ease when he knew his friends cared that much for him.

 

The Korean followed the half-Japanese man down the hallway, slightly jogging to walk beside him. “Brad's right,” Joe said as if he had been a part of the conversation, “you definitely need a vacation or something; to get your mind off Anna. You need to move on, bro.”

 

“You make it sound so easy!” He huffed, dodging random scurrying co-workers and making his way towards the exit. “We were together for so long! We were happy. Or, at least, we seemed to be. She accepted my proposal and then the day after is fucking some chocolate god! I don't understand. What did I do wrong?”

 

“Well, she probably got sick of waiting for you to propose and found someone else, then when you did, she decided to give him some goodbye ass and that's when you caught them.”

 

Mike scowled at the Korean, causing him to avert his eyes quickly. “She acted like it was no big deal. Didn't even fight to keep our relationship. Just apologized and that was the end of it.” He threw open the office door and stalked in the direction of the elevator. He pressed the 'down' arrow, but it didn't ding. He pressed it again – nothing. Mike growled and punched it angrily, causing a few passerbys to stare flabbergasted at him.

 

Joe shrugged at them and tugged on Mike's long-sleeved black work-sweater. “Mikey, I think this one may be under service, let's go use the other one before you break your hand trying to beat it up.”

 

Mike was quickly becoming upset, all his emotions and feelings chipping away at him faster and faster. He inhaled deeply, choking on a sob that he tried so desperately to keep to himself. Joe looked around, raising his eyebrows as nearby observers stared at the crumbling man in wonder. The Korean tugged on his friend's shirt, pulling him around to the other elevator that was on the other side of the nonfunctional one.

 

“Pull yourself together, buddy. We'll get some lunch, you can work on your painting and then we'll do something fun tonight, okay?” He soothed his hand over Mike's trembling back as he pressed the elevator key.

 

It dinged a few times before opening. They both walked in, Joe still holding onto the sullen Asian. His soft, Japanese features were sagging under the weight of sadness and the Korean sighed, distraught over Mike's lack of willpower to move on with his life. He hit the button for the first floor with his fingertip as Mike hastily knuckled his betraying tears away. He was ashamed of himself for being so sensitive over what Anna had done, but he couldn't help it; he had loved her so much. His heart felt broken; unrepairable.

 

He sniffled, his eyes becoming red as tears continued to threaten his almond eyes. “Can we eat at the park today?”

 

Joe couldn't help but smile at his innocent friend. He looked like a little boy with those sentimental features and those puppy eyes. “Of course we can. Let's grab a sub at that deli just across the street and then we can walk over to the park.”

 

The edge of Mike's lips turned upward slightly. He's so grateful to have a friend like Joe. Mike had done nothing but sulk and be depressed over a woman that clearly didn't deserve his love, but his friend had stuck with him through it all; listening to him cry and whine about the loss of that tramp and rode the emotional roller-coaster Mike had taken him on with a smile and a reassuring pat on the back.

 

When the elevator doors opened, Mike and Joe exited the business building and headed across the busy street of Los Angeles to the deli shop. Joe paid for both their lunches and they headed over to the park. Joe didn't even wait to start chowing down on his sandwich, eating it ravenously down the sidewalk. Mike scrunched his face as he watched his stocky friend paying more attention to his food then where he was actually going. He had this 'dodge me or get hit' mentality, so as he focused on his delicious meal, if the busy people that traveled down the crowded sidewalk didn't move out of his way, he would simply plow into them. Joe's a pretty stocky guy – muscular, broad shoulders and a thick torso that screamed he could easily bench-press you, so it didn't phase him much if he knocked into some poor, unsuspecting victim. He would simply shrug off the impact and continue on his way as the person cursed under their breath – not having the guts to do it to his face. Joe found that rather amusing.

 

Mike couldn't help but find refuge in the Korean's outlandish behavior. He had the kind of personality he wish he could have. Joe was outgoing, outspoken and did exactly what he wanted to do – aside from what he had to do for his job, which was exactly what he liked to do. Being another good friend of Brad's, however, had given him just as much leeway as Mike. Mike and Joe were both equally artistic and important to Brad's company, but Mike envied Joe's spontaneity. Maybe he really should just be more like Brad and Joe and let loose.

 

“Are you that hungry that you can't wait ten minutes to eat? We're almost to the park.”

 

Joe smiled, speaking with a mouth full of his Italian cold-cut. “MMM, no way. MMM, so good. Me hungry!” He finished chewing the large portion of food and swallowed it, taking a sip of his coke to wash it down. “Aaahh!” He sighed with a smile on his face, the passing people giving him strange looks and cringing as he devoured his sandwich without a shred of dignity. Mike could only laugh.

 

By the time they got to the park, Joe was finished his sub and had thrown the empty bag into a nearby trashcan. Mike strayed over to a bench, sitting down and gazing out around him. He loved this park. This is where he normally would go to paint if he couldn't stand being in his office anymore. Since he was Brad's best friend, he got away with a lot that others wouldn't be allowed to do. The bench was just against a dirt pathway that stretched the length of the park. It overlooked a pond; crystal clear water that gave refuge to an array of fish and feathery ducks. The day was absolutely beautiful with its pale blue color and no cloud in sight. The sun was warm, despite the cold breeze and the chill in the air, and the echo of laughter sung throughout the park. Mike could never remain depressed when he came here.

 

Though he's feeling lighthearted now, he was still unsure if he could have that painting done for Brad by the end of the workday. For three months, the paintings he had done for the magazine had been decent enough to pass Brad's inspection. However, they honestly weren't up to par with his personal capability. The only way Mike would be able to ameliorate his artwork was if he could somehow get his muse back. He was unsure if that would ever happen again.

 

“Mike, why did you become an artist in the first place?” Mike furrowed his brows at Joe's question, turning to face the Korean sitting next to him. “It couldn't possibly have been because of Anna, so what was the real reasoning behind going to art school and getting a degree in illustration arts?”

 

He pondered for a moment before returning his gaze to the shimmering pond. “I guess it's always been my passion. I can express how I feel more easily through art than I can through my emotions. It just comes out more honestly, more forthright.”

 

“So, Anna has nothing to do with it?”

 

Mike sighed, getting annoyed with hearing that dreadful name. “No, Joe, she doesn't. But in order for me to paint what I need to paint, I have to be in the right state of mind. I need to be clearheaded. I can't think of anything but the pain she,” he growled the word, “caused me. It's affecting my whole life.”

 

“Oh for the love of God, Michael Kenji Shinoda, please go out and get laid or something!” Joe said that a little too loudly. A woman and he child had just walked by as he said that, causing the woman to scoff in their direction and shuffle her kid faster down the path. “Oops.” They both chuckled lightly as Joe continued berating his friend. “I love you, I really do, but you have to be you again. Trust me when I say you are fantastic without her. You haven't lost your muse, you've just masked it behind Anna's face. Once you can get her out of your mind, I swear you will be better off.”

 

He was right, Anna wasn't the reason why Mike is so great artistically and personally. Mike has a special gift and for some reason, he was giving Anna all the credit for it. That made him hate her and himself even more. He was acting like such a fool. “I know. I think Brad is right, I just need to get away. I need to get away from here and go have some fun or something. I just need to find myself again.”

 

Joe clapped his hands together ecstatically. “You're damn right!”

 

Mike stared down at his sandwich, nibbling on it as he let the serenity of the park clear the Anna-shaped clouds from his mind. Though he knew what he had to do, he wasn't so sure it would be that simple. He had to escape from her, from everything. He couldn't tell whether or not he still believed in love considering the only woman he had ever considered spending the rest of his life with he had caught cheating on him the day after proposing. He had never really been much for frequent dating like Brad did often. Brad wasn't seen with the same girl for more than a month. It seemed like every event party he hosted for the release of each month's issue for BmuseD, he had a different girlfriend. The term girlfriend didn't even seem justice, it was more like someone he could sleep with without having to pay. Then again, Brad has a lot of money so no wonder he got all the girls.

 

To Mike, love meant more than a good fuck. He wanted – no – he needed companionship. Mike just couldn't feel whole without that special someone. Anna had been there for a steady four years; waking up to her beautiful smile, kissing those rosy pink lips, smelling her intoxicating perfume of sunflowers, and just being able to share every little intimate detail of his life without feeling judged. Those novelties he held so dearly to his heart were taken from him; betrayal sweeping them away like yesterday's trash. How could he possibly believe true love and happiness resides somewhere, anywhere out there for him?

 

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“Just, please, go home, Mike. You look like shit. Get some rest, finish the painting – just do what you gotta do, okay?” Back at the office, Brad had noticed Mike's continuous lack of enthusiasm for this rather easy painting he had to deliver. “My deadline for you was by five, but the issue isn't going to be published for another two days. I. Need. That. Painting. I'll give you until tomorrow morning, bro. Eight o'clock sharp. If I don't have that painting, I can't get Joe to have the negatives in time to include it into the magazine and you know how much your artwork concludes the editions and, not to mention, your art is always the centerpiece to the issues' parties. Everyone loves your work. Please, don't make me beg, alright?”

 

Mike only nodded. He knew how important his work was to Brad and to the company. Usually, depending on how intrigued and inspired Mike was on the subject of the current magazine, he would deliver anywhere from two to five paintings – all unique and all extravagant. Their fans had even voted on an issue of ‘BmuseD’ doing an exposé dedicated to their favorite to-date artist. It didn't feed Mike's ego or even boost self-esteem – and at the time he was still with Anna – but it had made him feel accomplished and deserving. That issue made him feel as though his dream of being a renowned artist had come true. It honestly had, but he no longer felt that way. For the last three issues, he had considered it lucky if he could master one painting. He needed to get that confidence back.

 

Mike had gotten home in the mid-afternoon, a few hours before his shift was under the strict instruction that he have that painting done and resting soundly in Brad's office by eight in the morning. He knew it was important and that Brad was doing him a huge favor by delaying his deadline, but he simply couldn't get his brush to design his passion. He couldn't get that delicate instrument to coat that canvas with his thoughts. His feelings were too jaded and he couldn't stop blaming her.

 

He had been sitting in his living room of his studio apartment, staring at the blank canvas. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a larger place, it was that he and Anna had shared an apartment and when they split, he ended up breaking the lease and paying a substantial amount to do so. This was what he could afford at the time and he's grown attached to the small, cozy feel it's given him. He didn't need much space, he just needed it to feel like home.

 

When you entered into the apartment, you walked right into the living room from using an outside wooden stairwell that leaded up to a small patio. White walls and white marbled flooring had thrown Mike off a bit initially from buying the apartment, but it had a lot of good qualities to it. There was a simple entertainment center that sat against the wall divider that lead into the kitchen. An 'L' shaped creme colored couch hugged the right wall and against the divider that lead into the open bedroom. Three small steps just passed the living room lead up to a small hallway – the bed on the right and the kitchen bar to the left. Going straight down the hallway led to the balcony, to the left was a stacked washer and dryer and across from that was a small, yet elegant bathroom with a linen closet next to it.

 

The only thing that gave him privacy while he slept was a curtain divider that he could easily fold back during the day and while he slept, enclose himself within the curtain. A large double-pane mirror acted like doors for the bedroom closet. At least it made the room seem a little bigger. The kitchen, though a small strip, was quite enough for the man. The green marbled counters and bar gave the room an edge of color and his stainless steel appliances gave it a nice touch. He wasn't much for cooking, so he rarely got any use of the appliances. The cabinets were a bright cherry wood with glass doors. The openness and reflective qualities of the apartment made it seem a little bit bigger than it actually was.

 

Not a lot of lighting was actually needed within the apartment. Black-cased bulb-lighting highlighted the bar of the kitchen and accented the sheer gray sliding dividers that could be used to separate the bedroom/hall from the kitchen area of the bar. There was a small standing lamp behind the corner of the couch that provided the main ambient light and a few more bulb-lighting towards the end of the hall. There was a dome decorative light in the bedroom area that spanned the corners, giving the small area enough light for reading or other activities while in bed. Small pendant accent lights decorated the bathroom, giving the white walls a soft peach tone and a center dome light and vent conjunction.

 

Black roses in vases that Mike had decorated himself sat on the kitchen bar. Along with his own paintings littering the white walls of his apartment, much like his office – at least his home was a little bigger than it. The coffee table in front of his brightly-colored pillowed couch was made of glass and decorated with little knickknacks, cup coasters and artwork fused to the inside of the glass. If Mike could find some way to alter something with his work, he did so. Now that was the kind of passion and enthusiasm he was lacking the past few months. If he could just get that back, then the old, well-loved and adored Mike would be back.

 

Mike tossed his keys and his mail onto the coffee table and kicked his shoes off to the side of the welcome mat in front of the door when he first got home. The dancing beams of the sun lit up the apartment through the plethora of windows that decorated the front and back entrances of his home. He loved how open it was. The neighborhood was quiet as well, aside from the children that played in the courtyard that you had to walk through to get to the building. He liked hearing the cheerful laughter and playing of kids and adults alike, which was probably why he loved the park so much.

 

He sighed, knowing full well that he should start on that painting for Brad. The lingering idea Joe had given him to paint was on the tip of his fingers, ready to be transferred from his hand, to the brush, to the canvas, but he was just too tired to think. He was staring at the untouched, blank white paper in front of him, trying to muster up the energy to do what he was supposed to do. He hadn't slept well at all since the breakup. In fact, he hadn't done much since the breakup. His hair was notorious for growing quickly and in just a few months had become a shaggy mess that he just couldn't seem to tame and his beard had become scruffy. The twenty-five year old man looked decrepit and dreary. He loathed looking at himself in the mirror; it just reminded him of what Anna had turned him into.

 

It was only three in the afternoon and the only thing Mike could pull himself to do was to flop onto his bed face down, limbs sprawled out haphazardly and groan into his pillow with exhaustion. His eyes were shut tightly as he tried to bury the images of Anna into his mental, shallow grave. “Why,” his muffled voice riddled with fatigue filled his ears of the small, quiet room, “why can't I stop thinking about you? Why do I still love you so much?” A few tears leaked from his eyes, making his pillow moist. He sniffled, turning his head to the side. “What did I do to deserve being hurt like this?”

 

He honestly had no idea why she had cheated on him and broken his heart. He wanted the answers to questions that simply just didn't have plausible reasoning. Maybe that's what hurt the most. Maybe, just maybe he would one day soon find the reasoning behind his routine of coming home and crying himself into a dreamless sleep.

 

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(A/N) How did you like this first chapter? I know, poor Mikey, right?? I hope you all like the banner! It took forever for me to figure out how to make one T_T SO MANY PICS AND EDITING INVOLVED!!! By the way, does anyone know how to get it to show up on the page instead of having to click on the link?? Read and review!! Fede and I will update as soon as we can!

 

<3 Shanny & Fede