Uncertainty
Title: Uncertainty
Author: Barush
Fandom: Linkin Park
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG- 13
Description: (standalone) Private Shinoda goes missing during a mission in Iraq and his boyfriend is left home only with a numb feeling of uncertainty.
I feel dizzy all laid back and I'm too blind to see
What's going on outside my lonely window
I'm turning on the TV screen watch the news for a while
Then I fall back to sleep again
The first few days, I was watching news non-stop. With that non-disappearing strange feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I was surfing all channels, stretching my ears, ready to hear the inevitable. At least, at that time I thought it was inevitable. No messages from you didn’t help me either. On the third day, I was ready to call your base and bother them until they told me what was up with you.
And then, when I was at my wits ends because of the fear I felt for you, the blessed phone call came. They had a fucked up telephone network in Bahrain, you told me. At first, I screamed at you, then sobbed for a while just to tell you how much I loved you in the end. I craved to hear those words coming from your mouth as well and for a split second, I refused to acknowledge you were calling only a ‘friend’. I told you to pretend you were calling your mum the next time.
That night, I slept the sleep of a baby, undisturbed by nightmares of blowing up bombs and parts of human bodies flying everywhere. You had told me everything was fine, there were no fights nearby and most likely, you’d spend your first oversea mission doing paperwork. I laughed at you and made you promise me to call every three days at most.
After your reassurance my life came back to normal, I stopped freaking out all the time and even, I stopped watching news. That was the biggest mistake though as the other phone call hit me totally unprepared.
I'm waking up again and see that war on screen again
And it makes me want to go and hide
This world is full of misery, the anger is too big to see
That's why I had to dream this dream
I told them that it was impossible for ten people to disappear. Just like that, the whole troop. Things like that just don’t happen. Yet, they informed me; since there were no bodies, they couldn’t proclaim them dead. I didn’t want you to be dead, but this uncertainty was unbearable.
They searched for you. The whole day, within a ten-mile diameter from the flashpoint of the uprising you and your troop were sent to put down. But what are lives of a sergeant and nine ordinary soldiers compared to the justice and peace in an occupied country? Right, nothing, as one of the office clerks working on your base subtly informed me.
There was a brief mention about the successfully defeated mutiny on BBC, but somehow they probably forgot to mention ten missing soldiers.
If I were your wife, or maybe even your mother, I would be probably offered compensation for kicking reporters out of my front door, but as a boyfriend, no scratch that, as a friend I am only told that it was your free will, the decision to defend your country, and I should have been prepared for anything.
I’ve never understood how you could devote your life to the country millions of people hated around the world. National pride, you’ve always grinned at me. Fool, I’ve sighed inwardly. Still, I volunteered to be labeled as a ‘friend’ for the rest of my life and let your career invade my small world. Nobody is perfect after all.
Now they come again all these soldiers without shame
Dressed in black an equipped with fire
They can stop our happy days and put us in the graves
But never reach the Ochrasy
It’s been a month now and I haven’t shed a tear yet. I’ve tried, really, but nothing. My boyfriend’s missing and I can’t even fucking weep. Thank you very much, US army and your principles.
I’ve been told they couldn’t proclaim a soldier dead until he’s been missing for some ridiculously long amount of time. I’ve forgotten the number though. I’ve even begged some random brigade general to make an exception in Mike’s case because, yes, I couldn’t cry until there was only the tiniest spark of hope left inside me. He’s just smiled sympathetically and told me to imagine what all the wives of missing men must have felt.
I want to cry. I want to weep. I want to mourn, damn it. But I can’t because I don’t know for sure if you are really dead. You might as well be kept a captive and being tortured for all I know. Instead of sorrow, I feel only numbness. In a way, I’m glad your parents aren’t here to experience this.
It’s been only a month since I got the dreadful phone call, being listed as your first emergency contact, and they’re calling a memorial already. Just a small one, for the families of the ten missing men. No journalists, no TV. The American nation doesn’t need another tragedy, no.
From experience, I know why they are doing this now. If you are ever found alive, then fine. If you are ever found or proclaimed dead, they won’t have to bother with funeral anymore. Seeming as you have no close relatives at all, I’ll get to accept the flag of the United States. Might as well put it up on a wall beside my bed and pledge allegiance to it every morning when I get up.
I was dreaming 'bout times, times that are gone
Times when I lived alone in my own land called Ochrasy
That place was everything to me
The world I made it up you see
It's all there in my fantasy
And I believe it
Somehow, the US army has found out I was a musician and asked me to perform a song during the memorial. The wives would appreciate it, they’ve told me, such a sweet boy I was. I haven’t had much of a choice but to agree.
In my state of an emotional numbness, I haven’t found this idea as perverted as I should have. Singing at the memorial for my not-quite-dead-yet boyfriend for nine sorrowful wives. Sweet.
The fact that I’m way past caring about anything is probably the cause of me standing here, acoustic guitar in one hand, the other being crushed by a pleasantly looking marine. He’s limping slightly, the reason why he’s able to be here and not in the middle of a fire.
He runs a quick look over me and smiles sadly. I must be Chester, Mike’s cousin, by the looks of it, he says. Apparently, you’ve told them a lot about me. Your whole troop knew about your cousin you’ve been forced to live with for the lack of money. According to this guy, you and me, we shared only a rent. In this moment, I don’t know if I should be happy I’ve been promoted from a friend to a relative without you telling me anything.
I’m so dumbstruck I can’t even talk. He apparently mistakes it for my approval to go on and introduces himself. Brad. Brad Delson When he sees the name doesn’t ring any bells he leans into me slightly and whispers in my ear that you and him have been more than friends. However, you’ve certainly told me about him many times, he’s sure.
I nod dumbly.
He proceeds to tell me that this all is a huge tragedy and still he hopes you’ll turn up someday, preferably sooner than later. At last, he wishes me good luck for performing the song.
Slowly, I feel my façade crumbling. The numbness is fading away just to be replaced by anger, sorrow, resentment and all those emotions I should have been feeling for the past month.
I wonder how long I’ve lived in that dream about love of my life. Guess I’ll never know, not that I’d want to anyway. I loved you more than life. You don’t have to be dead for me to use the past tense though.
With the first tones of my guitar, the long anticipated tears start to flow freely from my eyes.
I'm waking up again and see that war on screen again
And it makes me want to go and hide
This world is full of misery the anger is too big to see
That's why I had to dream this dream
A/N: Lyrics belong to Mando Diao.
Just archiving my old stuff here, nothing new.
Author: Barush
Fandom: Linkin Park
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG- 13
Description: (standalone) Private Shinoda goes missing during a mission in Iraq and his boyfriend is left home only with a numb feeling of uncertainty.
I feel dizzy all laid back and I'm too blind to see
What's going on outside my lonely window
I'm turning on the TV screen watch the news for a while
Then I fall back to sleep again
The first few days, I was watching news non-stop. With that non-disappearing strange feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I was surfing all channels, stretching my ears, ready to hear the inevitable. At least, at that time I thought it was inevitable. No messages from you didn’t help me either. On the third day, I was ready to call your base and bother them until they told me what was up with you.
And then, when I was at my wits ends because of the fear I felt for you, the blessed phone call came. They had a fucked up telephone network in Bahrain, you told me. At first, I screamed at you, then sobbed for a while just to tell you how much I loved you in the end. I craved to hear those words coming from your mouth as well and for a split second, I refused to acknowledge you were calling only a ‘friend’. I told you to pretend you were calling your mum the next time.
That night, I slept the sleep of a baby, undisturbed by nightmares of blowing up bombs and parts of human bodies flying everywhere. You had told me everything was fine, there were no fights nearby and most likely, you’d spend your first oversea mission doing paperwork. I laughed at you and made you promise me to call every three days at most.
After your reassurance my life came back to normal, I stopped freaking out all the time and even, I stopped watching news. That was the biggest mistake though as the other phone call hit me totally unprepared.
I'm waking up again and see that war on screen again
And it makes me want to go and hide
This world is full of misery, the anger is too big to see
That's why I had to dream this dream
I told them that it was impossible for ten people to disappear. Just like that, the whole troop. Things like that just don’t happen. Yet, they informed me; since there were no bodies, they couldn’t proclaim them dead. I didn’t want you to be dead, but this uncertainty was unbearable.
They searched for you. The whole day, within a ten-mile diameter from the flashpoint of the uprising you and your troop were sent to put down. But what are lives of a sergeant and nine ordinary soldiers compared to the justice and peace in an occupied country? Right, nothing, as one of the office clerks working on your base subtly informed me.
There was a brief mention about the successfully defeated mutiny on BBC, but somehow they probably forgot to mention ten missing soldiers.
If I were your wife, or maybe even your mother, I would be probably offered compensation for kicking reporters out of my front door, but as a boyfriend, no scratch that, as a friend I am only told that it was your free will, the decision to defend your country, and I should have been prepared for anything.
I’ve never understood how you could devote your life to the country millions of people hated around the world. National pride, you’ve always grinned at me. Fool, I’ve sighed inwardly. Still, I volunteered to be labeled as a ‘friend’ for the rest of my life and let your career invade my small world. Nobody is perfect after all.
Now they come again all these soldiers without shame
Dressed in black an equipped with fire
They can stop our happy days and put us in the graves
But never reach the Ochrasy
It’s been a month now and I haven’t shed a tear yet. I’ve tried, really, but nothing. My boyfriend’s missing and I can’t even fucking weep. Thank you very much, US army and your principles.
I’ve been told they couldn’t proclaim a soldier dead until he’s been missing for some ridiculously long amount of time. I’ve forgotten the number though. I’ve even begged some random brigade general to make an exception in Mike’s case because, yes, I couldn’t cry until there was only the tiniest spark of hope left inside me. He’s just smiled sympathetically and told me to imagine what all the wives of missing men must have felt.
I want to cry. I want to weep. I want to mourn, damn it. But I can’t because I don’t know for sure if you are really dead. You might as well be kept a captive and being tortured for all I know. Instead of sorrow, I feel only numbness. In a way, I’m glad your parents aren’t here to experience this.
It’s been only a month since I got the dreadful phone call, being listed as your first emergency contact, and they’re calling a memorial already. Just a small one, for the families of the ten missing men. No journalists, no TV. The American nation doesn’t need another tragedy, no.
From experience, I know why they are doing this now. If you are ever found alive, then fine. If you are ever found or proclaimed dead, they won’t have to bother with funeral anymore. Seeming as you have no close relatives at all, I’ll get to accept the flag of the United States. Might as well put it up on a wall beside my bed and pledge allegiance to it every morning when I get up.
I was dreaming 'bout times, times that are gone
Times when I lived alone in my own land called Ochrasy
That place was everything to me
The world I made it up you see
It's all there in my fantasy
And I believe it
Somehow, the US army has found out I was a musician and asked me to perform a song during the memorial. The wives would appreciate it, they’ve told me, such a sweet boy I was. I haven’t had much of a choice but to agree.
In my state of an emotional numbness, I haven’t found this idea as perverted as I should have. Singing at the memorial for my not-quite-dead-yet boyfriend for nine sorrowful wives. Sweet.
The fact that I’m way past caring about anything is probably the cause of me standing here, acoustic guitar in one hand, the other being crushed by a pleasantly looking marine. He’s limping slightly, the reason why he’s able to be here and not in the middle of a fire.
He runs a quick look over me and smiles sadly. I must be Chester, Mike’s cousin, by the looks of it, he says. Apparently, you’ve told them a lot about me. Your whole troop knew about your cousin you’ve been forced to live with for the lack of money. According to this guy, you and me, we shared only a rent. In this moment, I don’t know if I should be happy I’ve been promoted from a friend to a relative without you telling me anything.
I’m so dumbstruck I can’t even talk. He apparently mistakes it for my approval to go on and introduces himself. Brad. Brad Delson When he sees the name doesn’t ring any bells he leans into me slightly and whispers in my ear that you and him have been more than friends. However, you’ve certainly told me about him many times, he’s sure.
I nod dumbly.
He proceeds to tell me that this all is a huge tragedy and still he hopes you’ll turn up someday, preferably sooner than later. At last, he wishes me good luck for performing the song.
Slowly, I feel my façade crumbling. The numbness is fading away just to be replaced by anger, sorrow, resentment and all those emotions I should have been feeling for the past month.
I wonder how long I’ve lived in that dream about love of my life. Guess I’ll never know, not that I’d want to anyway. I loved you more than life. You don’t have to be dead for me to use the past tense though.
With the first tones of my guitar, the long anticipated tears start to flow freely from my eyes.
I'm waking up again and see that war on screen again
And it makes me want to go and hide
This world is full of misery the anger is too big to see
That's why I had to dream this dream
A/N: Lyrics belong to Mando Diao.
Just archiving my old stuff here, nothing new.