Linkin Park: Brad/Chester, #003 ends
Title: Broken glass
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad/Chester
Prompt: #003 ends
Word Count: 273
Rating: PG13
Summary: It's over, and he thinks he can handle. Sequel to summer wine
When the tour ends Brad has to pretend he isn’t sad, because that’s a lot easier than dealing with how he really feels. He doesn’t want to go home. Especially not with Chester, but he can’t tell the singer that. Or anyone else, for that matter.
The first thing he does is take a shower, and when he re-emerges from the bathroom feeling refreshed and slightly better about life he finds Chester in the kitchen drinking a bottle of red wine.
“You’re drunk.” He says, running a towel through his wet hair, “Again.”
“It’s not hurting you,” Chester hisses, taking another swig from the bottle, “I’m surprised you even noticed.”
His words should hurt, but Brad guesses he’s right. Lately his interest in Chester has waned. It’s not like he did anything to stop it. It’s not like he could. Instead he just sat back and watched it happen.
He says, “Maybe we should stop,” and, “just, before anybody gets hurt.”
Chester empties the rest of the wine down his neck and grimaces, “Before? Are you kidding me Brad? When was the last time you kissed me? Let alone fucked me?”
Brad simply shrugs, says, “You started this.”
“I loved you.” Chester says, pushing the bottle off the counter and sending it crashing to the kitchen floor. He disappears upstairs.
Brad watches him go before dropping to his knees and picking up the broken glass. It cuts his hands and he bleeds, tiny shards wedged under his skin. It stings, the bitter wine soaking into the cuts. But he just picks up the shattered glass slowly, and throws it all in the trash.
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad/Chester
Prompt: #003 ends
Word Count: 273
Rating: PG13
Summary: It's over, and he thinks he can handle. Sequel to summer wine
When the tour ends Brad has to pretend he isn’t sad, because that’s a lot easier than dealing with how he really feels. He doesn’t want to go home. Especially not with Chester, but he can’t tell the singer that. Or anyone else, for that matter.
The first thing he does is take a shower, and when he re-emerges from the bathroom feeling refreshed and slightly better about life he finds Chester in the kitchen drinking a bottle of red wine.
“You’re drunk.” He says, running a towel through his wet hair, “Again.”
“It’s not hurting you,” Chester hisses, taking another swig from the bottle, “I’m surprised you even noticed.”
His words should hurt, but Brad guesses he’s right. Lately his interest in Chester has waned. It’s not like he did anything to stop it. It’s not like he could. Instead he just sat back and watched it happen.
He says, “Maybe we should stop,” and, “just, before anybody gets hurt.”
Chester empties the rest of the wine down his neck and grimaces, “Before? Are you kidding me Brad? When was the last time you kissed me? Let alone fucked me?”
Brad simply shrugs, says, “You started this.”
“I loved you.” Chester says, pushing the bottle off the counter and sending it crashing to the kitchen floor. He disappears upstairs.
Brad watches him go before dropping to his knees and picking up the broken glass. It cuts his hands and he bleeds, tiny shards wedged under his skin. It stings, the bitter wine soaking into the cuts. But he just picks up the shattered glass slowly, and throws it all in the trash.