LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

My guardian Angel by MissDomho

Meeting

AN Hello everyone :) I present to you another multi chaptered story...Just to clarify I have had this story on my computer for almost a year and a half and thought I could share to you all my ideas in story. Just a few things about this story...


It is pure f i c t i o n, so please don't be offended by Chester's character being an angel. It's a happy story and I promise you all that my intentions are only pure for Mike and Chester as I respect them completely<3


This is my first fantasy fic, so please be kind :) and would love to see your thoughts and likes and stars, anything possible to help me continue:) So it'll be an Alternative Universe story :) You will meet Mike and Rob, both are OOC (out of character) especially Rob lol XD just thought I would challenge myself as and change him up a bit.


I will be updating Standing in the middle frequently too as much as I can with Work I promise you that as I think the story will end at the 29-30 chapter mark :)


Anyway...please share your thoughts and I hope you stick it out with this story, slash will come later ;) you all have been warned!


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My guardian Angel



First meeting


It was a cold and blustery Saturday in November as Michael stood on the rolling grasses of the hill. The cold breeze stirred his hair as he looked down at his feet. A single rose, deep red, was clenched in his hand. The young man brought the flower to his lips and kissed it before setting it on the marble marker in the ground. It read: Donna Shinoda, beloved wife and mother.


The deep scars in the grass over her grave were still healing. In a few days, Michael would be placing his father by her side. He'd just come from the hospital after they'd pronounced his father was dead. Finally they were at peace. Finally, they were together again. Even though his father followed Michael's mother to the other side just a few months behind her, they hadn't been together for years. The young exotic man's father had Alzheimer's and he'd disappeared into his past long before his mother had finally succumbed to the cancer that riddled her body. As he started to turn, his mind asked the question silently. Were they at peace?



Yes sweet, Michael, they are.



The voice, so loud in the still morning, came from nowhere and made him pause. Michael's heart rate skittered into panic mode. He stared over the field of headstones, searching for the source of that voice. When he saw no one, He shook his head. There was nobody there.



--



As he sat in his car, voices from Michael's past echoed in his mind. His father's gruff voice filled his memory.



"You'll go to college, Michael. That's final."



The half Asian man had looked at his father and shook his head. "How can I?" He couldn't leave them. His parents.



"We saved for your education. We wanted you-"



Mike held up his father's hand.



"I wasn't worried about the money, Dad." Mike put his arm around his father's shoulder. "But I can't leave you either."



Mom came into the room, weak and ethereal, almost gaunt. Her eyes were pinched with pain. "Michael! We'll be fine. You must go to school."



He hung his head at her words. His mother stood gently, as if every move hurt her. Mike knew it must. She'd just had surgery. He came into their lives so late. While most of his friends worried about what they'd do over their summer break, Mike spent his time at the hospital. The cancer, although caught early, was persistent. She'd be fine. She had to be.



The son felt powerless as he watched them. While in the hospital, his father had become agitated and confused while waiting for Michael's mother to come through surgery. So agitated, that a doctor had looked him over. Then he'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The son shook his head. He knew they had dreams for him, but how could he leave them? What could he do?



"How about a compromise? I can go to the local college and live here."



Mike knew his mother would have been appalled had she realized how much her face showed her relief. In the end, it was the only decision he could make.



As their son's memories faded, Michael wiped the fallen salty water from his cheeks. Would they never stop? He'd been crying for months it seemed. None of it mattered now. It was over. They were at peace and no longer hurting. Mike put his car into gear and drove home.



--



After the son laid his father to rest, he sat in the house he grew up in and stared out over the yard. The well-wishers had finally left. Old friends of his parents who cupped his cheek and shared old stories Michael had heard many, many times over. "Your dad was proud of you, sweet Michael", "He's at peace now, son. Don't ever doubt it." In the end, all they had been were faces. Faces he'd grown up with- but now much older.



He turned from the window and started again on the box in their bedroom. He sighed as Mike put the last of his parent's clothes into large garbage sacks. At least work had been decent. Michael's boss had come into the small, cramped office and gruffly put his hand on his shoulder.



"Take some time off, Mike. Your old man was a good worker for this company."



His voice had been gravelly and he'd shrugged uncomfortably when Mike had thanked him. They all knew what Michael had went through for his parents.



After school, he'd had to get a job to help out with the bills. Mike never got a chance to go beyond the community college. His father had been furious when his son had taken a job as the bookkeeper at his old company.


"Damn it, Michael! I don't want you to throw your life away."



He had stood up to his father, and stared him down.



"What choice do I have, dad? Mom isn't getting better." The son quietened his anger and put his hand on his father's shoulder. "You're starting to forget more and more."



Dad's eyes were stricken when he looked at his son, the fight draining from him. "I know, son. I know." His eyes had grown moist. "I forget you're not the same boy I bounced on my knee."



Michael held his father as the tears began. Most days, he couldn't remember why his wife was in the hospital. In his heart Mike knew that a day would soon come when his dad would forget everything about his son.



"It's okay, dad. The job isn't that bad. And I'll be home at night, when mom gets home."



And that's what Mike did. He got up early and fed his father. He waited for the next-door neighbour to stop by, and then left for work. Mike put in ten hours a day, and then came home and cooked and cleaned. Mom never really got better and dad slipped further and further into the past with each day.



Mike picked up one of the many photo albums in their bedroom and thumbed through the pages. His mother had spent hours creating each one for his father. As his mind deteriorated, he would have these books in a blind, futile hope that it would spark something inside him. There were happy photos of a young version of Mike's father in an army uniform, a beautiful young woman in a flowered dress, the same two in wedding finery, dad smiling with his hard hat on at the oil refinery. Mom dressed in her best dress for their anniversary. Laughter. Tears. Memories. In the end, they had done nothing to ease Michael's father.



--



The son had sat by her bed, holding her hand in the hospital. It was nearly over. Her body was consumed with the cancer, her mind the only fully working part of her. The machines by the bed droned by her as she took each ragged breath.



"Promise me, Michael. Promise me you'll find a good home for him."



He held his mother's hand and willed his own tears away. "I can't put him in a home, mom."



She touched her son's face with her weathered hand, tears of extreme pain glistened in her eyes. "You're twenty-seven, Michael. It's time you got to live your own life."



Mike bowed his head over his mother's hand and pressed a kiss into her knuckles. "It doesn't matter, mom. Don't ask this of me."



Her other hand came and rested on his head, patting Mike's spiked tendrils. "My poor baby. So lost. So alone." Mike looked up at her words. Her face creased in a faint smile, a shadow of the warm glow that had beamed only for Michael from the time he could first remember. "Don't shut yourself away, Michael. Find a nice boy and settle down. You deserve happiness."



Her words stole his breath. 'How could she know? I never spoke the words aloud'. "But…"



"How do I know?" When Mike nodded, she continued, her voice faint. "I've always known. Don't be sad. It's okay. I love you as you are. I always will."



The tears slowly fell down his cheeks as he kissed her hand again. She'd given her son such a rare gift. Acceptance.



"I love you so much, mom."



"I love you too, sweetie."



She lay back against the bed, her eyes tired as her face relaxed. "If I could, I'd make sure you were happy."



The tears lodged in his throat, making Mike's words hoarse. "Oh, mom. Don't. I'll be fine."



Her face creased in another smile as she stared at the ceiling. "I don't know where I'm going. It will be over soon, love. Learn from us both, Sweetie. Don't let your life get away from you."



Those were her last words to Michael. The last words she ever uttered. He sat by her side until the beeping monitors beside me stopped and her body lost its rigid look. The pain left her and she relaxed into peace. It should have been horrible. It should have been scary. It was neither. It was almost beautiful, to watch her melt into eternity.



--



Michael sat on the edge of his parent's bed, the photo album long forgotten as it clattered to the floor. He brushed the stray tears from his bleary eyes, furiously. 'Damn tears never seemed to stop. When will this pain end?'



Soon.



The hauntingly, beautiful voice called out to Michael once more again, it was the same voice he heard back at his mother's grave. It was quiet but deep, reverberating off the walls. He stood and stepped back, tripping over the edge of the bed. As Michael was lying sprawled on the floor, he looked all around, studying his room in frantic fear.



"Who keeps talking to me?"



I do.



Michael's heart lodged in his throat.



"Who are you?"



You already know.



"Why are you talking to me?"



You asked the question, Michael. I simply answered.



He studied his surroundings once more again, his eyes darting at every crevice and every crook in his parent's bedroom, his breath now heaving with adrenalin.



"Where are you?"



Around.



His brows furrowed in annoyance.



"Are you always this evasive?"



The voice chuckled long and lightly.



When it suits my purpose, yes.



"What is your purpose in talking to me?"



Soon you will know, time can only tell



The young half Asian waited, but the voice didn't speak again. He shook his head as he left his parent's bedroom. He needed a drink. As he slowly trudged downstairs, Mike almost convinced himself it was all a dream. After two glasses of whiskey, he was positive he'd imagined the voices.



--



A few days later, Michael was mindlessly droning through some billing invoices. He came back to work early, probably earlier than he should. But he couldn't stay at home and brood anymore either. It was nearing end of shift and he knew if he didn't go to the restroom before he left, Michael would not have made it home. The half Asian headed down the hall, but the single office restroom was occupied. He couldn't wait, so he headed towards the back and the crew locker room.



When he stepped inside, the sounds of running water from the shower filled his ears. The place smelled like sweat and was humid from multiple showers. It was Friday; no one worked late on Fridays. Mike relieved himself and went to the sink to wash his hands. As he rinsed them of the soap, Robert Bourdon, a work colleague, walked into the sink area, a towel slung low on his predominately narrow hips, his dark tresses still wet and finger combed from his shower. Mike blinked hard and focused on the mirror.



Mike felt his face heat with embarrassment and a bit of arousal. Robert was a tall man. beautiful with sun kissed skin wrapping around the expanse of well defined muscle, his body was described amazing in all the right places. From the corner of his eyes, Mike watched as a drop of water slipped down his chest, trailing through the soft whirls of light hair down to his taut stomach. The half Asian swallowed hard, making it almost too visible for his own good as he grabbed the paper towel from the towel dispenser before drying his hands until red raw.



"Hey Mike. How are you doing?"



He gave Robert a small smile as he tried to look anywhere but at the towel clad body that belonged to Robert. Mike felt very intimidated as Robert could be mistakenly as a god the way that his muscles rippled delightfully under his tanned skin.



"I'm good. Thanks."



Robert grabbed his deodorant out of a small shaving kit on the counter and turned to face Mike as he put it on.



"I'm sorry about your dad. He was a good man. He trained me when I first started."



The half Asian nodded, lost in the sight of Robert moving around beside him, he couldn't help- but stare as the young half Asian man thought he was very attractive. "I didn't know that."



He grinned a beautiful smile at Mike, slipping his cotton boxers from under his towel. "How are you holding up?"



'How could he act so casual while in his towel and all...with a body like that why wouldn't he be proud to show it off?' Mike thought hard, swallowing twice before he could answer. "I'm okay. It's hard… but…"



Mike couldn't believe he'd said it was hard. But it was, and getting harder by the moment. Mike wanted to shift his legs to ease the ache, but he stayed still, terrified Rob would know he was hot for him. His smile was soft and kind as he looked at Mike. "I know how you feel. I lost my mother last year. It takes time, but it does get better."



Mike smiled at Rob and tried to move away- but his feet refused to listen to him to move from his spot.



"Thanks. I needed to hear that."



Mike watched as Rob slipped out his towel, thankfully wearing his boxers underneath as they didn't make much different if he were naked or not as they were sticking to his long, lean legs like a second skin, he had to make a quick exit soon as it was becoming unbearable to be sharing such a tight space with Robert especially with the wavering emotions that were sweeping throughout his body. Mike turned away and was about to head out of the locker room. Rob's voice stopped him.



"Hey, Michael?"



He turned around and saw Rob, standing with his hands on his hips, his briefs strained on his thighs, his body looking magnificent under the glowing light from the artificial lighting hanging above his head. Mike tore his eyes from the sight as his stared into Rob's face. He smiled knowingly at Mike as he winked.



"We should hang out sometime?"



Mike was powerless to move as he watched Rob turn his back as he drew on his pants, blocking the amazing view of his strong thighs and eccentric curve to his ass from Michael who's lips suddenly lost moisture.



"If you want to join us tonight for a beer, we'd be glad to have you."



Mike spun away, embarrassed and beyond mortified that Rob had seen Mike check him out. Mike's hands shook as he touched his own face, scalded by the heat in his cheeks.



"Th-thanks Rob. But I can't. Some other time."



Mike turned and fled from the room and barely paused for his coat in his little office. The half Asian's hands shook as he tried to open his car door. When he sat down behind the wheel, he winced at the confined pinch of his erection behind his Work slacks. He lowered his forehead to the steering wheel and took several deep breaths before he was calm enough to drive.



--



He drove home, he banged his fist against his steering wheel.



"What the hell was I thinking?"



He's not out at work. No one knows. Mike shook his head and drove home. When he got to the house, He was still agitated. His hands shook. His throat was tight and his face on fire. Mike tried to do a little housework. He grabbed some of the dishes on the counter and started filling the sink with hot water and suds. Shaking with desire, He tossed the dishes in the sink and braced himself against the counter. When the shuddering of his body would not cease, The young exotic man dropped his head and cursed. He tossed aside the dishtowel and started towards the stairs.



As he took the first step, Mike started unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he got to the top step, his shirt was open. He ran his hand against his tight stomach, tugging slightly on the baby fine trail of hair that led from his belly button into his tight slacks. The slight tug caused him to pause and lean against the wall, moaning slightly. When he could take a deep breath, he continued along the hall to his bedroom. Before he'd even opened the door, he had his pants undone and his palm pressed against his erection under his underwear. The simple pressure made his eyes cross.



He dropped his pants and stepped on his socks to remove them. He peeled off his shirt and flopped back onto his bed. His hand trembled as he ran it over his sparsely dusted sternum until he could flick one of his nipples. His other hand grasped his erection and squeezed the tip, silky with his excitement. He took his hand and brought it to his lips. He sniffed deeply of his excitement and sucked one finger into his mouth, lapping at the pad of his thumb until the last of the flavor was gone. His hand went back to his erection and began to stroke in earnest. His belly tightened as he moaned out loud.



Mike's let his mind wander, filling it with images of Rob, both from reality and his fantasy. His head arched against the pillow as he lowered his hand and caressed his balls. As his hand stroked faster, he imagined dropping to his knees and taking him into his mouth, caressing him with his tongue. He fought for breath as the sensations grew tighter in his belly, as his body readied to explode. It had been weeks since he'd last pleasured himself, since he'd last found release.



Why are you doing that?



The voice shocked Mike into stopping, his breath panting. Mike's body instantly cooled as he grabbed at the sheets below his body. He wrapped himself with the sheet and shook from repressed need and an uncontrollable anger.



"Who the hell are you?"



I've already told you.



He snorted as Mike stared into the nothingness of his bedroom.



"'You already know' isn't an answer."



You're angry?



"You're damn right I'm angry! Not only do you pop into my head at odd times, but you invade my privacy."



A heavy, weighty pause filled the room.



Why were you doing that?



He shook his head. Was he serious?



"You've got to be joking right? You trying to be funny? What did it look like that I was doing?."



I don't have a sense of humour.



Mike rolled his eyes as he stood up and grabbed his boxers from the floor. He shimmied them on under the sheet.



"Obviously."



As he grabbed his pants and slipped them on, He turned and faced the wall. Hell, Mike didn't know where the voices were coming from.



"Why are you here?"



When silence answered him, Mike bowed his head. "Please?"



I… I don't think you'll like the answer.



Mike sat on the edge of his bed and pulled his socks on.



"Will you at least show yourself to me? I like to know with whom I'm speaking too."



Shield your eyes.



"Why?"



He never got an answer as the room filled with a bright light, brighter than the sun on the hottest day in July. Mike raised his hand to shield his eyes, but the light didn't seem to hurt them. The air in the room stirred and swirled. It shifted the curtains and ruffled Mike's spiked hair. The light shrunk in on itself by the window until it was a single glowing ball. Fire erupted out of the ball and he turned his head from the heat of it. When he looked back, a beautiful man whose skin was almost translucent from the setting of the sun that was seeping behind the rolling hills as he stood where the fire had been. Somehow, it was very disappointing.



"That's it?"



The man cocked his head to the side and stared at Mike.



"What were you expecting?"



"I don't know. I didn't think you'd just be a man."



His smile was quick, cutting into his features and causing dimples to appear in his cheeks, the first thing Mike noticed was just how angelic the young man's smile was.



"How about this?"



The man rolled his shoulders and something thin and bright but paper-thin spread behind him. They raised high and Mike could see they were wings. He brought them down and the man rose from the ground until he'd settled back to the floor, Mike knew his jaw was hanging open. He was afraid to ask.



"Wh-What are you?"



The beautiful, angelic man smiled again and tipped his head to the side.



"The wings didn't give you a clue?"



The young tanned man shook his head to clear it, but it didn't help.



"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings."



The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Hardly. Do you know that when that movie came out, every kid in America rang every bell they came across? Do you have any idea how loud that was?"



Mike snickered. "You said you didn't have a sense of humor."



He shrugged and walked towards Mike.



"I don't. Not really. But I am an angel, Michael, I have been sent to earth to watch over you."



---


TBC



*hides* I have had this story, Chapter one for a year and a bit, almost completed it's been playing on my mind to write the rest and post it as recent events that have happened. I miss Chester so much eep! And I seriously hope I get some feedback whether I should continue or not...I really would like to, this isn't to insult anyone and I promise you this story is a happy story <3


So please share me some love <3 love for Bennoda, Linkin Park and all of you guys <3 thank you so much xox.

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