Prompt: Betrayal, Character: Chester Bennington
Title: Inevitable
Fandom: Linkin Park RPF
Pairing: Chester Bennington/Brad Delson
Rating: PG
Prompt: Betrayal
Disclaimer: Yes, I own them all. Not.
Word count: 1082
Summary: The recurring, omnipresent image that has been haunting you during the night for so long is back. This time though, something feels different.
Author's note: It's been written today at 3am. I'd say it has a slightly surreal feel to it. Or in other words, might not make much sense.
Your mind has painted the same image again. The recurring, omnipresent image that has been haunting you during the night for so long that you cannot even remember when it's started. Not that you'd be trying to.
A long dark corridor with identical doors lined up one after another along both walls. They're wooden, heavy and perfectly polished. The handles are golden. Expensive, yet cold. Unemotional. Reckless even.
You're walking down the hall that's stretching out before your eyes and it seems you can grab any of the handles, open any of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of doors. They all look the same, there'd be no difference.
But you know you can't. You know you cannot open just any of the doors because your subconscious knows. And your subconscious knows because you've had this dream so many times it's impossible to just forget and move on.
Your fate is sealed. One of those golden handles is a magnet, you're sure. A magnet that attracts human flesh or the bones that support your body from collapsing like a rag doll. It must be otherwise there'd be no other explanation why your hesitant steps bring you to the same door every single night after night. You know what's coming when your shaking hand reaches out to squeeze the offending piece of metal. You're trying to prepare yourself but there's no way you could ever be ready for what you're about to see.
There's him, lying on the floor, blood gushing from a huge open wound in the middle of his stomach. He's squirming, gasping for air and desperately crying for help. He's calling your name, pleading. Yet you cannot move, cannot speak, let alone help him.
Suddenly you wake up, sitting in your own comfortable bed, your t-shirt soaked with cold sweat. Brad's lying beside you, still snoring lightly; unaware of the terror you've been just forced to go through. Another night down, God knows how many to go.
However, Brad always seems to figure out, in the end, when you've had that dream again, as he calls it.
"Chaz, seriously, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
"But Brad - "you try to reason with him, because maybe this was it. Maybe this time it was a prophetic vision and the impending doom, you're sure is looming over Brad, is going to unleash its claws and hit him with full force.
"How many times have you had that dream? Eh? See, and I'm still here, still fine. It's just a nightmare, Chester," he tries to smile but you can see that he's annoyed by your pathetic, meaningless fear. On one hand, you can't really blame him. On the other though…
"Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"
He does. Same as every morning after that dream, he promises to be careful while turning around so you don't see the roll of his eyes.
It lasts a few uneventful weeks before the recurring familiar image disturbs your night sleep again.
However, this time it feels somehow different. At first, you cannot put your finger on what it might be because everything, every little detail, seems to be the same. And yet, something is definitely off. It takes you a while before you realize it. The feeling is different.
You're walking down the corridor as you've done numerous times before but now, now you're not drawn by any invisible yet powerful force to the door that's hiding your biggest fear. You're free to open any of them, any that you please. No longer at mercy of your evil subconscious, you feel an indescribable lightness of just being.
'Finally,' you think. This must be the end of the ordeal, the final conclusion. Whatever this omnipresent nightmare was about, it's gone. And you feel great.
You take your time going down the hall because deep down you know this is the last time. So you'd better enjoy it, right? Tired at last, you pick one door at random, step up to it and just swing the heavy wooden thing open.
The sight that you're met with though is nothing you'd expect it to be. You thought that maybe there'd be Brad, alive and smiling, or just a huge paper sign with 'fin' written on it to indicate that this has been just a one big joke.Or anything pleasant really, but this, this you haven't foreseen.
Mike, your best friend, is sitting in the middle of the room in a black crumpled suit, tears streaming down his face. You're about to ask what's wrong or to offer some comfort but before you actually manage to do anything, he speaks up.
"Why, Chester? Why this one?"
You don't understand. 'What do you mean?' you say but no sound comes out of your lips. They don't even move. The dreadful panic from your previous encounters with this place is back and you're shouting now. Only, you're not.
Meanwhile, Mike gives you a glare full of hate and loathing.
"Why did you betray him, Chester?" he spits out.
Now you really are shouting. Loud and desperate cries are escaping your lips as you sit up in your bed, your body slimy and wet all over. This time though, you're alone. And something feels to be off. Misplaced. Shifted somehow. The reality is different, moulded according to your nightmare, but you can't seem to be able to fix it.
Later that day, Mike calls you.
The only things you register before you unconsciously drop the phone to the floor are, 'There was so much blood,' and 'I'm so sorry, Chester.'
You were right, something did change that day.
Since then, you've never had the very same dream again. It went away just to be replaced by a different, yet similar one. You, standing in the same corridor, struggling to open the door you've opened so many times before, except once, with Mike standing beside you, asking 'why?'.
And every morning when you wake up screaming and covered in cold sweat, the first thing you see is the word 'betrayal' carved into your stomach.
It serves as a reminder of the day when you were foolish and selfish enough to let the impending doom strike in the end.
And every night, when you're falling back into a deep slumber, you're praying for the dream to be there, even though deep down you know everything is going to change again one day. And then, then there will be no other nightmare to replace the current one.
.
Fandom: Linkin Park RPF
Pairing: Chester Bennington/Brad Delson
Rating: PG
Prompt: Betrayal
Disclaimer: Yes, I own them all. Not.
Word count: 1082
Summary: The recurring, omnipresent image that has been haunting you during the night for so long is back. This time though, something feels different.
Author's note: It's been written today at 3am. I'd say it has a slightly surreal feel to it. Or in other words, might not make much sense.
Your mind has painted the same image again. The recurring, omnipresent image that has been haunting you during the night for so long that you cannot even remember when it's started. Not that you'd be trying to.
A long dark corridor with identical doors lined up one after another along both walls. They're wooden, heavy and perfectly polished. The handles are golden. Expensive, yet cold. Unemotional. Reckless even.
You're walking down the hall that's stretching out before your eyes and it seems you can grab any of the handles, open any of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of doors. They all look the same, there'd be no difference.
But you know you can't. You know you cannot open just any of the doors because your subconscious knows. And your subconscious knows because you've had this dream so many times it's impossible to just forget and move on.
Your fate is sealed. One of those golden handles is a magnet, you're sure. A magnet that attracts human flesh or the bones that support your body from collapsing like a rag doll. It must be otherwise there'd be no other explanation why your hesitant steps bring you to the same door every single night after night. You know what's coming when your shaking hand reaches out to squeeze the offending piece of metal. You're trying to prepare yourself but there's no way you could ever be ready for what you're about to see.
There's him, lying on the floor, blood gushing from a huge open wound in the middle of his stomach. He's squirming, gasping for air and desperately crying for help. He's calling your name, pleading. Yet you cannot move, cannot speak, let alone help him.
Suddenly you wake up, sitting in your own comfortable bed, your t-shirt soaked with cold sweat. Brad's lying beside you, still snoring lightly; unaware of the terror you've been just forced to go through. Another night down, God knows how many to go.
However, Brad always seems to figure out, in the end, when you've had that dream again, as he calls it.
"Chaz, seriously, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
"But Brad - "you try to reason with him, because maybe this was it. Maybe this time it was a prophetic vision and the impending doom, you're sure is looming over Brad, is going to unleash its claws and hit him with full force.
"How many times have you had that dream? Eh? See, and I'm still here, still fine. It's just a nightmare, Chester," he tries to smile but you can see that he's annoyed by your pathetic, meaningless fear. On one hand, you can't really blame him. On the other though…
"Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"
He does. Same as every morning after that dream, he promises to be careful while turning around so you don't see the roll of his eyes.
It lasts a few uneventful weeks before the recurring familiar image disturbs your night sleep again.
However, this time it feels somehow different. At first, you cannot put your finger on what it might be because everything, every little detail, seems to be the same. And yet, something is definitely off. It takes you a while before you realize it. The feeling is different.
You're walking down the corridor as you've done numerous times before but now, now you're not drawn by any invisible yet powerful force to the door that's hiding your biggest fear. You're free to open any of them, any that you please. No longer at mercy of your evil subconscious, you feel an indescribable lightness of just being.
'Finally,' you think. This must be the end of the ordeal, the final conclusion. Whatever this omnipresent nightmare was about, it's gone. And you feel great.
You take your time going down the hall because deep down you know this is the last time. So you'd better enjoy it, right? Tired at last, you pick one door at random, step up to it and just swing the heavy wooden thing open.
The sight that you're met with though is nothing you'd expect it to be. You thought that maybe there'd be Brad, alive and smiling, or just a huge paper sign with 'fin' written on it to indicate that this has been just a one big joke.Or anything pleasant really, but this, this you haven't foreseen.
Mike, your best friend, is sitting in the middle of the room in a black crumpled suit, tears streaming down his face. You're about to ask what's wrong or to offer some comfort but before you actually manage to do anything, he speaks up.
"Why, Chester? Why this one?"
You don't understand. 'What do you mean?' you say but no sound comes out of your lips. They don't even move. The dreadful panic from your previous encounters with this place is back and you're shouting now. Only, you're not.
Meanwhile, Mike gives you a glare full of hate and loathing.
"Why did you betray him, Chester?" he spits out.
Now you really are shouting. Loud and desperate cries are escaping your lips as you sit up in your bed, your body slimy and wet all over. This time though, you're alone. And something feels to be off. Misplaced. Shifted somehow. The reality is different, moulded according to your nightmare, but you can't seem to be able to fix it.
Later that day, Mike calls you.
The only things you register before you unconsciously drop the phone to the floor are, 'There was so much blood,' and 'I'm so sorry, Chester.'
You were right, something did change that day.
Since then, you've never had the very same dream again. It went away just to be replaced by a different, yet similar one. You, standing in the same corridor, struggling to open the door you've opened so many times before, except once, with Mike standing beside you, asking 'why?'.
And every morning when you wake up screaming and covered in cold sweat, the first thing you see is the word 'betrayal' carved into your stomach.
It serves as a reminder of the day when you were foolish and selfish enough to let the impending doom strike in the end.
And every night, when you're falling back into a deep slumber, you're praying for the dream to be there, even though deep down you know everything is going to change again one day. And then, then there will be no other nightmare to replace the current one.
.