LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

There are things that we can have, but can't keep by SonataNocturne

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A/N: So, I wrote most of this around Halloween last year. Then I forgot it. Now I accidentally found it and decided to finish the last bits. It's sad but there's always glimpse of hope. Chester will be missed forever <3





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Nothing felt right. It was all just half. Half of what it used to be. He was half of what he used to be. Not only moments, like lazy Sunday mornings with the family, late nights after recording or the evenings before shows. But all the feelings too. The buzz before shows, the relief and happiness after finished recording and the utter love that was so warm and comforting.




The emptiness that filled the other half was unbearable. It was a void that tried to spread itself to the corners of his existence. To make it pitch black, emotionless.




His mind was blank most if the time. White nothingness when he closed his eyes, blinding. But when he tried to sleep the thoughts invaded it. Screaming, demanding for attention. At some point he couldn't take it so he screamed louder. And he screamed until he couldn't anymore. When his voice was gone he contented to crying until he finally fell asleep.




And then the nightmares came. Even sleeping wasn't really sleeping cause he saw his face there. Making sure he would never forget. It was haunting, torturing him. Making sure he would miss him every day for the rest of his life. Reminding him what happened. Making sure that he still wouldn't believe it. Confusing, and blurring the truth. Night after night he woke up screaming, only to find out there was no sound coming out.




Waking up wasn't an issue. It was seconds of bliss of not remembering. But when he got up it all came rushing back to his mind like a freight train. He remembered, felt, it all and then he didn't want to get up. Cause that meant he had to face it. And facing it meant he had to accept it. And to that he wasn't ready.




Accepting it sounded like a joke, so surreal. Really it all did. It was like he was living somebody else's life, without no control. And control he needed. He yearned it desperately. If he would have control then all of this would have been gone. Or rather not happened at all.




He still wondered was it just a joke. Perhaps it all was just a bad dream. Waking from it just didn't happen. Honestly he didn't know what it was. They should have been out there, showing what they had achieved.




But the pain was real. He couldn't ignore it as he felt it with every fiber of his soul.




So instead of living the dream he had built for himself, he was laying there on his bed and wondering what went wrong. Where did it go wrong? Blaming himself was easy. He wasn't there when he was needed. But how could have he been when he didn't know he was needed? But he hadn't been there. That was what chewed him up.




Maybe if he had done something differently. Maybe... But maybe and what if were just words. They didn't really mean anything. Not when it was finished. Done. Gone. The End.




And when the words fail, what more there is left?




When he thought about the past years he couldn't believe it was all done now. That he was done. He didn't want it to be. But now it seemed it was. All of what he had achieved now was in turmoil. Knowing what to do next wasn't even possible.




Everyone told him he needed time. But if the time was actually that blackness, he didn't want it. He had already seen it all. Time heals they say. But what if it doesn't? How could it ever heal when half of him was gone?




Everyone also asked him was he fine. A question that had one easy answer that would comfort both sides, and a difficult one that would hurt both. Problem was that the other one was a lie, a shallow answer not really meaning a thing. The other one was the truth, but no one really was prepared to hear the truth. It was ugly, and would stain the other person's mind too. No one wanted that.




Now the fire inside him was slowly dying and he didn't know what would be left when it would finally go out. Then the other half of him would be just as dark as cold as the other.




His question was, was this how it was going to be? For the rest of his life? Cause he wasn't him anymore. He was the sorrow. The grief and the fear, build from tears and fading slowly to ashes. Just a replica of a person he used to be.




So many questions, and the few answers seemed unreliable, wrong. But maybe he didn't need answers. Maybe he needed more questions. Different kind of questions.




His life was just empty. All erased, ripped off and only one page left. But he wasn't ready to burn the book yet. He was going to watch what would come after that page was filled. He had no idea would it be just black void, like his other half now. There was no way of knowing. But he wanted to see it.




And now, as he watched the sun rise, painting the sky with all beautiful shades of pink, he knew he would make it.




Hour by hour, day by day.




Another sunset and another sunrise.




One moment at a time, one tear less to cry.




He would, eventually.




And piece by piece he would fuse himself back together.




Cause looking to the sky he knew he wasn't alone. Not really, he was still there with him.




"Hi Chester."




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