LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

The Coma dialogues by Nef

Title: The Coma dialogues

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Brad’s always been afraid of things that go bump in the night. Little did he know Mike was one of them.

Disclaimer: don’t know them or own this is FICTIONAL and oh lord and I should have copied this from another disclaimer because I cannot be assed to explain myself….


Please note: No members of the band LINKIN PARK were hurt in the making of this story, how ever by all legal rights the author will not take responsibility for the actions of some members. The actors in this story are professionals and have been trained to perform these stunts. Please do not attempt to re-enact anything you have seen today.


Enjoy the Show.



The Coma Dialogues


Childish fears should not keep us up at night when there is so much more to fear, yet as I lie here I cannot seem to banish away the thoughts of the unknown for it is them that puts fear in me the most. I cannot explain nor do I wish to, but even with you by my side, your breath upon my skin and your body lax with peaceful slumber, I cannot break down the fear of unknowing troubles that lie just beyond the line of normality. It isn’t something to be mocked, though I wish I could find some way to laugh this off, but with my mouth so dry like the mouth of the dead sailor, and my heart hammering in my chest, the mere thought of lifting my hand seems too much to comprehend. So much time is wasted in the darkness of night, the cold air that clings to one’s skin like the fingers of the forgotten ghosts, their howl drifting in the horrid winds on the outside, everything from reality becomes the unknown’s eyes, ears, voice and touch, even the rhythm of the ticking clock becomes a mocking sound to chime fear into the bodies of man. So I call upon day to take me away, to banish the unknown for a short amount of time. So bring on the day and come into the light.


---


One: Just because you’re tired, doesn’t mean sleep will come.


He sighed and raked a shaky hand over his shaven head, staring dead ahead un-focusing and lost in thought. It was hot outside but even hotter inside the small black BMW where Brad was currently sat trying to collect his thoughts. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep since the band had come back from the first of the Meteora tours. He wasn’t sure why but even after taking sleeping pills and other remedies that were meant to help with sleeping, he found himself lying in his bed night after night staring up at the ceiling and waiting for daybreak to come. The affects of sleep were beginning to show- he had no clue how he was going to get through eighteen hours of video shooting.


“Hey Brad!” Joe chortled happily as the guitarist made his way through the set slowly.


“Hey man.” Brad answered in a dulled voice, lifting his head wearily to look at the overly happy DJ. “How’s it going?”


Joe flashed one of his cheeky grins, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he did. “Slow, the set isn’t finished yet and they’re still hauling the fans in. Today’s gunna be great!”


“Hmm.” Brad mumbled and looked around through half-hooded eyes.


“Hey man are you okay?” Joe frowned slightly in concern, something that was very rare to see. “You look beat.”


“I’m fine.” The guitarist mumbled half-heartedly. “Just tired. I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”


“Okay,” Joe nodded looking relieved. “But if you’re tired you should go rest in the green room or something.”


“I might do.” Brad stifled a yawn and looked around again. “I’ll see you later. I’m gunna find the others.”


The guitarist shuffled off, too tired to pick his feet up properly so instead let the back of his jeans drag along the floor a little whilst he made his way through the crowds of work technicians and camera crews. None of the faces looked familiar yet no one came to bother him as he made his way around looking for any signs of his band members.


“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to drag your feet?” A smooth husky voice made Brad freeze and shiver ever so slightly.


He turned slowly, managing to open his eyes wide enough to take in the full view of the man standing before him. His gaze locked with the black almond-shaped eyes that were softly hooded with long dark lashes. He shivered again this time from the cold fire that burnt in the depths of the marginally taller man’s eyes. The lush rosy lips curled into a small cold smile, the mocha collar skin that had once been rich in colour but was now a light milky mocha colour glowing in the light of the sun. A wet tongue darted out slightly, sliding over the lower lip almost seductively before curling back into the wet blackness of the mouth slowly with a cat like grace. Brad merely swallowed, watching the action before his gaze returned to the dark orbs.


“Hey Mike.” He mumbled sleepily. “How’s it going?”


“Very well.” The emcee purred, the smile dropping away as the dark gaze swept over Brad’s exhausted demeanour. “Which is more than I can say for you.”


“I’m just tired.” Brad brushed away the concern and shifted in his spot. “I’ll be fine.”


“Hmm.” Mike purred and tilted his head slightly, the silver bolts in his ears flashing coldly in the light. “Come on, you should get some rest before we start working.”


“I’m fine.” Brad argued but didn’t fight as Mike’s long slender fingers gripped his elbow lightly. “Really.”


“Nonsense Bradford.” Mike smiled coolly as he led the guitarist through the busy area towards the greenroom at the far end of the studio. “If you’re tired then you must rest.”


Brad found no advantage in arguing so he allowed the emcee to pull him into the large green room and nudge him over to the lone couch. He had never found the will to fight Mike, lately he had lost the will to do anything around him and he wasn’t sure why. It was something about the cold fire in those dark eyes and the silky smooth voice that made him shiver and were constantly on his mind. He settled into a sitting position on the couch and rubbed his eyes, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.


“Lie.” Mike ordered calmly and pushed Brad back onto the soft couch slowly, his dark eyes almost glowing as Brad did as he was told helplessly. “Now get some rest.”


The guitarist let out a long sigh and wrapped his arms around himself, allowing his eyes to slowly slide shut. He could hear Mike moving around the room but there were no signs to suggest the emcee was leaving him alone. Oddly Brad found this comforting but he still opened his eyes to stare up at the emcee who was sat on a chair flicking through a magazine lightly his spikes hidden well under the black cap.


“You not leaving?” Brad asked blinking slowly.


Mike looked up and smiled before shaking his head and going back to reading.


“Good.” Brad sighed and shut his eyes once more.


---


A shuffling noise brought Brad to his senses and he allowed his eyes to snap open before sitting up suddenly. The dim light made his eyes hurt and he hissed before shading his aching eyes and looking around, his focus marred by sleep. The room was empty, the magazine Mike had been reading sitting on top of the chair that the emcee had once been sitting in. The guitarist sighed realising it was probably Mike leaving the room that had stirred him from his seat. Slowly he stood up straightening out his t-shirt and rubbing his sore neck, groaning when the pain only increased and a wet substance met his hand.


Instantly he recoiled his hand and looked down at his palm, choking at the sight of smeared blood. He hated blood, feared it even, there was something about it that scared him and made him shaky and sick. Shakily he rubbed his hand over his black shirt to get rid of the stains and stumbled over to the small battered mirror in the corner of the room. Blood was smeared over the left side of his neck, some of the red fluid leaking from the small wound.


“Fuck!” He growled and looked around for something to help him clean up.


“Hey Brad!” Dave boomed when the door burst open making the guitarist jump. “Mike said you would be in here.”


“Yeah.” Was all Brad could think of saying and he looked around madly for a cloth or some tissues.


“What you looking for?”


“Tissue.” Brad grumbled and located a small box of tissues in a draw. “I cut myself.”


“Ouch.” Dave hissed and shook his head. “Here, let me have a look.”


Too tired to fight, the guitarist allowed the bassist to whip the tissues out of his hand and examine the weeping cut. He hissed in pain when Dave gently poked the wound before wetting the tissue with water from the sink and clamping it down on the offended area, wiping away the blood stains gently.


“Wow that looks bad.” Dave mentioned as he cleaned away the last of the blood and threw the tissues away. “What did you cut yourself with? A roasting fork?”


“It’s not that bad.” Brad grumbled and shifted uncomfortably in his spot still feeling uneasy about the sight of his own blood. “Are you finished?”


“Yup.” Dave nodded and stepped back smiling. “Man you look like shit.”


“Shut the fuck up.” Brad whined and batted Dave away. “I’m just tired for the love of god!”


“What was that about god?” Mike’s silky voice made both men look around, Brad almost shrinking away from some unknown reason.


“Oh Brad just complaining.” Dave chuckled and shot Brad a look. “He went and cut himself on something.”


“Oh?” Mike furrowed his brows in concern. “Are you okay Brad.”


“Yes, I’m fine.” Brad snapped heatedly before sighing and speaking more quietly. “I’m fine.”


“I don’t believe you.” Mike stated simply. “I think you need to get some more rest, you look awful.”


“I don’t need rest and I don’t need you mothering me!” Brad yelled and stormed past the two men. “I’m going to get some coffee then I am going to the dressing room. I expect to be left alone!”


He left before there were any protests, instantly feeling bad for yelling at two of his best friends. He put it down to exhaustion, he could be incredibly cranky when he didn’t get the right amount sleep but part of him didn’t care, he hated being fussed over, that was Chester’s job, he was more content on sitting back and letting everyone get on with what they wanted to do.


Eventually he found the food room and headed over to the coffee machine, grabbing a plastic cup from the side and filling it with the dark hot liquid. Grabbing enough sugar to start a sugar plantation, he settled down at the only empty table available in the corner of the room and began pouring the sugar into his coffee.


“You need to learn some fucking manners!” Mike’s voice hissed making Brad tense. “What the hell is wrong with you? Going and upsetting Dave like that!”


Brad didn’t respond; he didn’t even look up at his long time friend. He just wanted to be left alone and he wanted everyone to quit hassling him about how he looked or what he did, it was his choice if he was exhausted and his choice if he was moody. A deep growl rumbled in Mike’s throat, a cold animal sound that made Brad only tense even more.


“Fine be childish.” Mike growled lowly and sank into the seat opposite Brad. “But I’m not leaving you alone until you get over what ever bit you on the ass.”


“Fine.” Brad mumbled and took a sip of his coffee, not caring when it burnt his tongue and the back of his throat.


The emcee merely stared at Brad, his dark eyes slightly narrowed in annoyance and his fingers intertwined together on the tabletop. Brad managed to control his behaviour, remaining cold and angry even though inside something was screaming for him to run away. He rarely felt something like this, the urge to cower and shrink away from Mike in any way- there was something about his older friend that scared him, a fear he only felt when he thought about his phobia.


Ever since he was a child, Brad had always had an unspeakable fear of things that couldn’t be explained, it rarely bothered him but he couldn’t watch horror movies or any programs that delved into something was beyond the brink of normality. He wasn’t sure why he was so scared, even at the age of twenty-six he shuddered at the mere thought of something that just wasn’t normal, the same things that supposedly went bump in the night.


It’s so stupid. He thought as he took another sip of his coffee. There is no such thing as vampire and ghosts and werewolves. I need to loosen up seriously.


But no matter how hard he tried; the fear just wouldn’t go away.


----


A/N: It's just a little something I have been working on for a while now and I wanted to know what you guys thought.

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