Category Linkin Park

Part of me by halvlang

Sometimes solutions aren’t that simple

Hello lovely people!

After you liked the other stories I uploaded, I decided that I also would like to share this one. It has been in my head since a while, but I was afraid of committing to a “real” story (not only oneshots). The fear of not being able to finish something is stuck within my brain since a few month and makes my daily life a struggle. This is thus the first step of trying to face this fear.

It is not going to be long, maybe around 4 or 5 chapters, but it is a beginning. By uploading this I promise myself (and you guys) to find the energy to write and finish this story.

I don’t know what to say about it, I just would like to mention that it is a posttraumatic story, showing (again) how Mike is dealing with Chester’s passing. Not connected to the chapters I wrote in “There’s a seat here along side me” at all. But yes, as said: please be aware that suicide will be mentioned.

With that said, I hope you like it and I would love to know what you think!



Chester Charles Bennington

“Hey Chaz… How are you?” My voice is so soft that I’m not even sure if I actually said the words out loud or if they were just spoken inside my head. A heavy feeling is building up inside me, crawling to the surface, making my skin stab and my inside puckering. Despite the warm air surrounding me, I feel cold all at once, shivering when the slightest breeze is coming up. With a lump in my throat, I try to continue with my prepared speech, but only cracked noises are leaving my mouth. With a sigh I lower myself to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the grass. My hands are hidden deep in my kangaroo pocket, my view is directed straight forward to the granite stone in front of me.

Chester Charles Bennington

Beloved father, husband and friend

I’m not sure if I like the lettering that Talinda choose, but I guess she has more to say in this then I do. And when I think about this for just another second – I actually don’t care. It wouldn’t change anything. A lighter stone would not make this place brighter, a twisted font would not make the words less true or false. Nothing can change what happened and even though I rationally know this, my mind keeps coming back to a scenario where we are both still here. Where we are both still alive. And in this moments, I need to make my way to this place that reminds me of the truth. That shows me black on white that he is not with me anymore, not with his wife or his kids or the band. This is the only place that brings me back to reality when I have the feeling of losing myself.

Chester Charles Bennington

Beloved father, husband and friend

* 20 March 1976

42 years. That was the life expectancy of people in Africa in the 60’s. And yes, I googled that. I can’t even remember why, but it hit me quite hard. There would have been another lifetime for him, measured on the basis of the American average in our century. Maybe he was just living on the wrong continent? Maybe he was meant to live somewhere else and even in another time? Maybe that’s the reason why his life ended so early.

Of course, I know that it is not true. I know that depression is the answer. And I was with Chester long enough, to know the risk of this happening. But still, now, being confronted with the worst scenario a depression can end in, my brain likes to find other solutions. Solutions that I couldn’t have changed anything about, nobody could, not even himself. Simple solutions.

Chester Charles Bennington

Beloved father, husband and friend

* 20 March 1976

†20 July 2017

I can feel a tear streaming down my face, dropping from my chin. I can’t do anything to stop them and so I’m not even trying to wipe them away. I just continue to stare at the dark stone, at the name, at the dates, my hands resting limply in my lap now. Half of our lifetimes were spent together. And again this thought: it could have been another half. A second one, a one that would make everything feel complete. There was so much to achieve, so many lyrics to be written, so many shows to be played and so many emotions to be felt. But all that is left now, are the feelings of sadness and emptiness.

All of a sudden, a voice makes me jump and I face Brad, who is standing a few meters behind me, hands in his pockets and an apologising look on his face.

"Hey Mike."

“God Brad… You nearly gave me a heart-attack!” I’m really shaking a bit, trying to focus on him through my tear-stained eyes. An unexpected appearance on a dark graveyard is as spooky as it is pictured in films and books.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I thought it would be odd to just stand here and stare at you.” When I turn around to the grave again, he is coming closer, standing next to me, our shoulders touching now.

“As if it isn’t creepy enough that I’m here at all, in the dark, talking to a stone.” Brad is slightly giggling, nodding in agreement.

“True, that is creepy. Good that it was me running into you. Just imagine the photos and headlines in the newspapers tomorrow if it would have been a paparazzi… Shinoda goes crazy. Linkin Park emcee seen while doing Goth-rituals on graveyard.” Despite the situation and the place we are at right now, I also giggle silently and whip away the traces of tears on my cheeks before giving Brad a push on his upper arm, so that he is struggling to stay on his feet.

“You can be such an idiot, Delson…”

“And that’s why we are best friends. Because I always manage to say the wrong thing at the right moment to make you laugh.” I only shake my head in disbelieve, but I know that he is right. Chester was always the honest one, bringing me back to reality when it was needed. Of course, he could also make me laugh, maybe like no other – but Brad has this power to find exactly the words that should not be said and that are making me snap out of a situation with a laugher exactly because of the bad timing. But right here and now, we soon are back to serious, Brad’s hand resting on my shoulder.

“Why are you here, Mike?” My eyes are still focusing on the inscription and I can feel this itchy feeling inside myself growing again, underlining that I don’t want to answer his question.

“Why are you?” Now I’m looking straight into his face, trying to make him understand that we are both in the same situation – showing up at Chester’s grave late in the evening. But Brad actually has a reason. A good one, I need to admit.

“I’m saving your ass from your wife.” With a shocked expression, I choke and start coughing. I wasn’t expecting any answer to my question so this one comes unexpected, leaving me confused and startled.

“How… Why… Anna?” My sentence is not really comprehensive, but Brad figures out what I want to know, giving me an explanation.

“She called me when you didn’t answer your phone. She said you left a note that you were heading to my house. She woke up and found it, wanted to check if we were both doing ok. I told her that I ask you to come around because I needed to catch up on something. See bought it. You owe me one, Shinoda.”

“Why did you lie? Why did you come here? How did you even know that I’m here?”

“That’s a lot of questions. Especially when you refuse to answer mine.”

With a sight I’m lowering my body to the ground again, bringing some distance between us.

“Sorry… I just didn’t thought that I need to explain my behaviour to anyone. The note was just a back-up, I planned to be back before Anna or the kids even recognise that I’m not home, sleeping peacefully in my bed.”

“That is still not answering why you are here. I mean, you were not home and obviously not at my place – I thought that I might find you here. But I don’t know what made you showing up at the graveyard at night. What’s going on, mh?” He is not giving up and I can sense that it could become a long night. I try to find something that is reasonable, not too far from the truth but also not revealing everything.

“I just… I miss him so much that it hurts and then sometimes I need to come here. I need to talk to him and… I know it sounds weird, but that’s just how it is.” Tears are crawling up my throat again and I cover my face with my hands. I can hear that Brad is lowering his own body next to mine and then he is pulling me into a hug. He is not saying anything and I’m happy about that. Because there are no words that are making this situation more bearable or less painful.


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