Linkin Park, Brad/Chester, #015 Blue
Title: Rope
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad, Chester
Prompt: #015 Blue
Word Count: 255
Rating: R
Summary: Chester would never tell you if you asked, but he believes that everything in your life is planned out.
Chester would never tell you if you asked, but he believes that everything in your life is planned out. Not necessarily by God, he never believed in God, but by a higher power. He believes that we’re all somebody’s little puppets.
Which was why when Mike asked when he and Brad were getting married he just shrugged, “Brad’ll be dead before I propose.”
Mike laughed. Tight lipped smile. Fake, all of it. After all, he and Brad have been friends since forever.
Brad, he’s all the time feeling sad. Down, he says, I’m feeling a bit down. And the scars on the inside of his wrists, the tops of his thighs, they’ve been a warning all along.
So when Chester comes home from a day at the studio to find Brad swinging from the banister by his neck he’s hardly surprised. Still screams, though, at the top of his lungs until his face turns bright red and his throat is raw.
He cuts down the cold body with a kitchen knife and drops to his knees. He strokes Brad’s face, traces his blue lips. The ones he had planned on kissing when he got to one knee that night, ring box in one hand a single rose in the other.
Brad always snorted, called him a soppy romantic. Loved all of it, though he’d never tell Chester that.
Chester can’t move to call 911. Stays where he is, instead. Slips the ring on Brad’s cold finger the way he always knew he would, and cries.
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad, Chester
Prompt: #015 Blue
Word Count: 255
Rating: R
Summary: Chester would never tell you if you asked, but he believes that everything in your life is planned out.
Chester would never tell you if you asked, but he believes that everything in your life is planned out. Not necessarily by God, he never believed in God, but by a higher power. He believes that we’re all somebody’s little puppets.
Which was why when Mike asked when he and Brad were getting married he just shrugged, “Brad’ll be dead before I propose.”
Mike laughed. Tight lipped smile. Fake, all of it. After all, he and Brad have been friends since forever.
Brad, he’s all the time feeling sad. Down, he says, I’m feeling a bit down. And the scars on the inside of his wrists, the tops of his thighs, they’ve been a warning all along.
So when Chester comes home from a day at the studio to find Brad swinging from the banister by his neck he’s hardly surprised. Still screams, though, at the top of his lungs until his face turns bright red and his throat is raw.
He cuts down the cold body with a kitchen knife and drops to his knees. He strokes Brad’s face, traces his blue lips. The ones he had planned on kissing when he got to one knee that night, ring box in one hand a single rose in the other.
Brad always snorted, called him a soppy romantic. Loved all of it, though he’d never tell Chester that.
Chester can’t move to call 911. Stays where he is, instead. Slips the ring on Brad’s cold finger the way he always knew he would, and cries.