LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

A Lack of Color by ALifeForMusic

The Weight of the World

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.

He was almost perfectly swallowed by his inconspicuousness, none of the passers-by even noticed him.

They were all trapped in their own little worlds, just like him. They were too caught up in their own problems, too consumed with their own priorities.

None of them were willing to escape their self made reality long enough to acknowledge the young man that stared into space with a blank face.


If just one of them had felt more than indifference towards the blond, they would have noticed how unusually still he was, how strangely apathetic the look on his pretty face was. They would have noticed how long he had been motionlessly sitting on the old bench in a park in the heart of the city of angels.

But no one took the time, no one seemed to want to give their attention to this extraordinary boy. All of them had enough worries as it was.


The young man, too, did not try to start a conversation.

Why would he? What was the point? Why would he want to talk to one of them?

They were all the same; a gray crowd of faceless ghosts to him.

He didn't know them, he would never be a part of their lives.


If one of the passers-by were to stop and look at the young man, the first thing they'd notice would be the unusually pale skin tone.

Even in the hottest summer his skin was pearly white and almost translucent.

He also had an unusually skinny and feminine build; his big, black hoodie seemed to swallow him.

He seemed so small and fragile; as if the next gust of wind could lift him up and carry him away.

If one of the passers-by were to inspect Chester's clothing; the ripped jeans and big, worn-out hooded jacket that hid his skinny frame too well, they would probably think he was poor. They'd think he didn't have parents that supported him, and no money to buy proper clothing.


All the conclusions that the passer-by would draw from Chester's appearance, though, were wrong.


He did have parents that supported him. With money. Yes, Chester had money. A lot of money.

And he always had everything he needed.

His parents worked too much; but they loved their son dearly.

So ever since he learned how to crawl they bought him everything his young heart desired.

And although his parents were highly intelligent people they never understood the essential part of their upbringing.

They never understood that their definition of love had isolated Chester and hollowed him out.


Because they left him alone.

Alone with the newest game boys, computer games and cell phones, but they left him alone.

He had one of the best private teachers that one could hire for money. And even as a baby he had had a nanny that had to anticipate his every wish.

His parents loved him and therefore he had everything.

Everything but the emotional warmth he needed, that is.

And the older he got, the bigger got the yearning for the only thing that Chester ever was deprived of.


He had never joined a sports club, never even attended a public school.

He had never had a person that he would call a friend. Someone that you could call in the middle of the night when you weren't feeling well. Someone that would be over at your house in less than ten minutes to wrap you in their comforting arms. Someone you could confide in. Someone that would tell you all their secrets in return.

At least that was how Chester pictured a true friendship.

Magical, beautiful.

Something he had never had and probably never would have.


He didn't know how to make friends. He didn't know how to socially interact with people.

The only person he ever spent a lot of time with was his nanny, and she had to like him – after all, she was paid to.


Of course Chester pretended to get along. But when he was honest with himself he had to admit that his heart was longing for a friend. He yearned for a person that was important to him. He didn't even dare think about a romantic relationship. He didn't seem to deserve that much bliss.


With his twenty-two years, he had never been in love.

He wondered what love felt like. Romantic love.

Would he really feel butterflies in his stomach, the day that he finally fell in love?

Deep in his heart he had long since admitted to himself that he longed for that day more than anything.


With every week that went by he became more and more hopeless that that day would ever come.

The more hopeless he got, the more brooding he got, more pensive.

He left the expensive gifts untouched and spent hours sitting on his window sill, watching the passers-by down on the street.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to switch with one of them; just for a day.

Sometimes he wished he could read their minds.

Sometimes he focused his gaze on a particularly stressed or relaxed looking person and caught himself making up stories involving that person.

Maybe he did that because he was bored, and maybe he secretly wished to be one of them.


The only attempt he ever made to break out of this daily routine was a year ago. He started getting tattoos. His arms and parts of his back and chest was now decorated with ink.

His last tattoos; red and blue flames that licked up along his forearms and started on his wrists were done four months ago. Then he gave up.

What was the point of looking different than everyone else?


When Chester was young he wanted to become a doctor. A doctor or a musician.

But what was the point?

What was the point of Chester's exceptionally beautiful voice when he had no one to acknowledge it? No one to pat his back encouragingly and congratulate him when he managed to hold a note for a very long time?


Yeah, what was the point. That was a question asked himself quite often these days.

He didn't see a point in writing, singing or studying.

Not while he felt so empty inside, so isolated from the people around him.


His parents thought Chester was going through some kind of premature midlife-crisis.

So they bought him an awfully expensive apartment in the heart of Los Angeles.

Every day he came to the park to look at people now. Sometimes for hours.


People like the woman that was hurrying through the park with a twin pram and two squealing and crying toddlers right now. Chester wondered if she was happy. If her childrens' love made up for all the stress they were causing her, or if she regretted her decisions sometimes...


“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”


A soft, slightly husky voice brought Chester back to reality. He tensed but didn't try to turn around and look at the man that sat down when Chester shook his head.

He just kept staring at the people rushing by, but perked up his ears when the man started humming quietly and then sighed contently. He couldn't be a lot older than Chester.

“What a beautiful day, isn't it?”, he heard the voice again.

When Chester didn't answer, the young man started scraping his feet, then he got up.

“Goodbye”, he said and Chester could hear the smile on his lips.


The blond didn't know why, but while he listened to the sound of the other man's footsteps getting quieter and quieter, he was sure that they would see each other again.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you like it! Review, pretty please and if people are interested in the plot I shall update soon :)

Go to chapter:

Reviews Add review