Linkin Park: Brad/Chester, #071 Broken
Title: Let the rain fall
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad/Chester
Prompt: #071 Broken
Word Count: 527
Rating: PG13
Summary: Turns out they're two different people after all
Not knowing what you’re feeling and not feeling at all are two different things, Brad reassures him. But Chester tells him, no, he knows fine well what he’s feeling. And he fucking hates it.
***
This all started with Chester telling Brad he felt alone.
“How can you feel alone with the amount of friends you have?”
“They don’t know me, Brad.” He said, tiredly.
“I know you.”
Chester didn’t say ‘no you don’t’, nodded silently instead and pulled him in for a kiss.
***
“Maybe you should consider therapy.”
“Therapy,” Chester repeated, trying the word out.
“Yeah. Therapy. You’re sad. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
But of course, he hadn’t.
***
The therapist looks like his counsellor at school and he remembers him folding his arms and saying “Are you sure you just fell?”
He hadn’t, of course, but when the truth will only result in more pain you learn to lie fluently. It was Chester’s mother tongue by the time he was nine. And he’s only gotten better at it since.
“How are you feeling?” The therapist asks. He’s left handed, and his pen rests loosely in his grasp.
“Tired.” He says, “Kind of hungry. I don’t know how to cook and Brad wasn’t home when I left.”
“Brad. Let’s talk about Brad, shall we?”
“No,” Chester says absently as he stares out of the window. From here he can see the fires sweeping through hills in the distance. He doesn’t understand why so many people love fire season so much. Bring on the rain.
***
They met when he was a girl. Or as close to being a girl as he’ll ever be. Brad had kissed him, said, “I’m in a band, we’re going to be famous.”
Chester couldn’t resist him, with his beaming grin as if he believed his words. Everybody in Hollywood was going to be famous. “Nothing is so common-place as to wish to be remarkable,” He said.
“Yeah,” Brad murmured thoughtfully against his lips, fingers on the spaghetti straps of Chester’s dress, “Who said that? Nietzsche?”
“Shakespeare,” Chester whispered, but Brad couldn’t hear him and didn’t ask again.
***
Months later Brad walks in on Chester doing his makeup in the mirror. He applies glitter to his eyelids with a skilful hand.
“Why do you do this?”
“What?”
“Dress like this?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Chester’s waist, stroking the soft material of his dress.
“Women are so glamorous, don’t you think?”
Brad shrugs, “Never been big into women, to be honest.”
“Then you’ll never understand.”
***
“How are you feeling today, Chester?”
“I want to talk about Brad, today.”
“Okay.”
“Brad thinks he’s going to be famous, but his band sucks. I can’t bring myself to tell him. I want to be a woman but I look horrible in a dress, but he’d never tell me that. I think I love him. But that could be the drugs.”
“Could be?”
“Probably is. I don’t really know. Brad thinks everything has to have a reason. Every story has to have a plot.”
“And you don’t.”
It isn’t a question so Chester doesn’t answer. Just smiles. And crosses his legs.
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Brad/Chester
Prompt: #071 Broken
Word Count: 527
Rating: PG13
Summary: Turns out they're two different people after all
Not knowing what you’re feeling and not feeling at all are two different things, Brad reassures him. But Chester tells him, no, he knows fine well what he’s feeling. And he fucking hates it.
***
This all started with Chester telling Brad he felt alone.
“How can you feel alone with the amount of friends you have?”
“They don’t know me, Brad.” He said, tiredly.
“I know you.”
Chester didn’t say ‘no you don’t’, nodded silently instead and pulled him in for a kiss.
***
“Maybe you should consider therapy.”
“Therapy,” Chester repeated, trying the word out.
“Yeah. Therapy. You’re sad. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
But of course, he hadn’t.
***
The therapist looks like his counsellor at school and he remembers him folding his arms and saying “Are you sure you just fell?”
He hadn’t, of course, but when the truth will only result in more pain you learn to lie fluently. It was Chester’s mother tongue by the time he was nine. And he’s only gotten better at it since.
“How are you feeling?” The therapist asks. He’s left handed, and his pen rests loosely in his grasp.
“Tired.” He says, “Kind of hungry. I don’t know how to cook and Brad wasn’t home when I left.”
“Brad. Let’s talk about Brad, shall we?”
“No,” Chester says absently as he stares out of the window. From here he can see the fires sweeping through hills in the distance. He doesn’t understand why so many people love fire season so much. Bring on the rain.
***
They met when he was a girl. Or as close to being a girl as he’ll ever be. Brad had kissed him, said, “I’m in a band, we’re going to be famous.”
Chester couldn’t resist him, with his beaming grin as if he believed his words. Everybody in Hollywood was going to be famous. “Nothing is so common-place as to wish to be remarkable,” He said.
“Yeah,” Brad murmured thoughtfully against his lips, fingers on the spaghetti straps of Chester’s dress, “Who said that? Nietzsche?”
“Shakespeare,” Chester whispered, but Brad couldn’t hear him and didn’t ask again.
***
Months later Brad walks in on Chester doing his makeup in the mirror. He applies glitter to his eyelids with a skilful hand.
“Why do you do this?”
“What?”
“Dress like this?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Chester’s waist, stroking the soft material of his dress.
“Women are so glamorous, don’t you think?”
Brad shrugs, “Never been big into women, to be honest.”
“Then you’ll never understand.”
***
“How are you feeling today, Chester?”
“I want to talk about Brad, today.”
“Okay.”
“Brad thinks he’s going to be famous, but his band sucks. I can’t bring myself to tell him. I want to be a woman but I look horrible in a dress, but he’d never tell me that. I think I love him. But that could be the drugs.”
“Could be?”
“Probably is. I don’t really know. Brad thinks everything has to have a reason. Every story has to have a plot.”
“And you don’t.”
It isn’t a question so Chester doesn’t answer. Just smiles. And crosses his legs.