LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Ghost - Everything Will Be Fine by Indee

Hello,


A small shot I would like to post here. I kinda hate myself for this and kinda feel like a hypocrite and this kind of story is already too out-of-the-date (oh, my, sorry, I’m rambling) but the idea never stopped popping in my head until I got it written down. I hope that somehow I didn’t break any rule for this and hope you can enjoy it!


Warning!! A sad shot, written down by me whom English ain’t the native language, and swearing.


Disclaimer: Linkin Park isn’t mine and this story is totally fictional (and making no sense)


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GHOST

-Everything Will Be Fine-


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It wasn't the best day for Mike. Worst, even. The three to two hours of sleep every night for weeks had taken its toll. Mike was nothing but a grumpy living zombie.


Grumpy would be an understatement. Mike was a step away from being crazy, or so he said. He couldn't control his emotion, he couldn't control his thought. His used to be awesome creativity was dull. He would stare at a blank canvas with a brush in hand for hours and it would remain blank. He would take a notebook and a pen but beautiful words wouldn't come. He would stand in front of his home studio door but would never find the courage to enter. He was a mess. A fucking big mess.


What he had around didn't help at all. If anything, they pushed him, forced him, demanding their will to him. The label constantly demanded some sort of 'update' from him, reminding him at any chance they got that he still had contract and duty and target. He wasn't so surprise at all. Those douchebags only cared about money, not human being.


He would run to his bandmates, if only he could. If only they didn't shut him down saying they need their time. As if he didn't need time.


The media had been a pain in the ass. He had been so sick with the unstoppable notification. Millions of RIPs and thousands of reminiscences. Hadn't they had enough? Didn't they realize that he didn't need constant reminder? Did they really need to resurface the memory over and over again?


Mike groaned then stomped on the gas pedal hard. His sleek black car shot through the empty street of Los Angeles. He didn't have particular destination in mind. He just drove through whatever street where he could pour his frustration by escalating the speed. Once he found an empty street, he would turn toward it. Another empty street, turned toward it. He didn't give any shit where he would end up. Nor caring if he only drove in cycle.


He didn't know how long he had been on the street. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. He just remembered another argument with Anna before he snatched his keys and ran out of the house like a rebellious teenager he was. Maybe Anna called him out, maybe not. He was being so unbearable that he wouldn't be surprise Anna would wish him to be gone.


One thing he was grateful for tonight was that the kids had been tucked in their beds. They had distanced themselves already. He was in fault, of course, for being a meany moody daddy. He didn't need them to hate him even more after hearing the fight.


He didn't know anymore. All the demands, all the questions, those expectations. Why did everyone throw them to his face? They demanded him to know everything. They asked countless questions he didn't know what the answers were. They expected him to crumble down yet strong at the same time. Did that even make sense? He was on the watch of everyone, on the ear of everyone. It was suffocating.


"Damn!" Tears prickled out on the corner of his eyes. The wetness grew, his vision started to blur. "I'm tired of living."


"MIKE! STOP!!" Chester shrieked in panic that made Mike gasped and push the brake in reflex.


The moment the car came to the halt, a giant truck passed before his car in a high speed. Mike's eyes widened, his breath came in short pants. If he didn't stop, the truck would obviously strike him. If he didn't stop, his demise would be in such a gory way. If Chester didn't warn him--...


Chester.


"Oh God."


He choked out. That voice... it was no doubt Chester's. But how? He glanced to his side, to the rearview mirror that reflected the view of his backseat, no one. He was alone and he was pretty sure he wasn't daydreaming. He alcohol or drugs weren’t in his system so he wasn't hallucinating.


He shivered.


No. not because of some sort of astral experience gave him the creeps. No. But because, probably, he had the idea of what was happening and why. His lips trembled at the last thought passing his mind before he stopped the car, before Chester’s warning. His whole body shook when he remembered that not a few minute ago he was wishing to die.


"Oh God."


And Chester was there. Telling him that he should not. Telling him to live. Chester saved him again. He always saved him. He would always save him.


"Oh God."


Then Mike just broke. Inside a car parked at a random empty junction, behind the steering wheel, he wailed like a baby. He cried like he'd never before. All the pain after the death of his dear friend, all the pain from the burden in his chest, all the pain of the love lost. All of them.


And when it's time to go home, he would be in a better mood. The suffocating feelings gone. The tears being poured out would feel worth it. His mind was clear. His heart was at peace. The acceptance would be here. He would be able to smile and say the thing he hadn't been able to before,


"Rest in peace, buddy. Thank you."


He would be home, sneak into his room and gave the sleeping Anna an apologetic kiss. He would wake up in the morning, get down for breakfast and greeted his family with a warm smile. He would approach his friends, let them know he was with them and lead them to unity once again like a glue they called him.


The calls would come. The label would pin the contract to his face. The fans wouldn't stop showing their condolences for a very long time. But he was ready. He was positive he could face them. He would find a way to end the sorrow. He would find a way to make people happy again. He would.


Mike finally could sleep well at night. Everything is fine, he thought. Everything will be fine.


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Did I upset you? I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me. I saw this Whisper post and the plot bunny hopping around in my head. I couldn’t help it.


It’s been a long year. Sometimes I still feel so sad hearing his voice in the tracks, however, despite the loss, despite the pain, we will move on. If not now, then later. Same thing goes to Linkin Park family. Let’s pray for happiness and everything good for them, for all of us.


Thanks for reading! Please support my chaptered story; Chestaline!

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