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Amnesia and Star Child	By : coldblood Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 1642 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Linkin Park. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Rob was sitting at his drums, practicing his rhythms for the sixth hour running.
He was playing through Breaking The Habit when suddenly he felt queasy, the feeling rolling up through his gut like a determined worm.
He stopped playing and tried to gather his lurching stomach - but it didn’t go away - suddenly Rob jumped up and tore to the bathroom, retching viciously into the toilet, his fingers grasping the rim of the enamel bowl so tightly that his knuckles shone white.
The drummer gasped for air and spat, spitting the disgusting taste out of his mouth.
Rob wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and flushed the toilet, walking over to the basin and washing his hands, then he sucked up some water and washed out his mouth.
Hell, what did I eat? Rob wondered as he walked to the kitchen.
He felt woozy... So... Sleepy.
Maybe I’ll just go and have a lie down, Rob thought.
He headed in the direction of his bedroom, the waddle in his walk more obvious than ever before.
Rob lay down and curled under the blankets, briefly wondering how Mike was going given that he hadn’t seen him since the last time Mike felt in the mood for sex, and that was a month ago now.
His girlfriend - thank god - was away on another business trip.
She couldn’t ever find out about all of this - especially if Mike wasn’t going to be in the relationship for the long haul.
She was sweet, and Rob didn’t want to see her hurt.
But right now, everything was okay, and despite looking like a baby killer whale in size, Rob felt content, even excited for some unknown reason.
With one hand on his ever increasing waist line, the drummer fell fast asleep.

~*~*~

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this...” I hiss to Rosie as we walk towards the nightclub.
It’s the new one, Heaven’s Cradle - all the celebrities go there.
Any one with money to be brutally truthful.
“Something bad’s gonna happen...” I mumble.
I don’t want to admit I’m utterly petrified, but I don’t want to go in there - I don’t want to be surrounded by people.
Rosie urges me on, with sounds of far off voices in my ears, the Loch Ness Monster once again singing to me.
I sigh deeply and mentally tell Blue to shut up before paying at the door and walking in, just as Lindsay Lohan comes stumbling out like an elephant that had attacked a gallon of whiskey.
She’s certainly wobbling about like one.
“I love you Mike!” She screams as she is assisted out to a car.
Lindsay knows I exist? Hell I didn’t know that one!
My hand curls into a fist and I walk on in, ignoring her.
I reach the bar and settle on a chair, easing my aching body down onto the plush, swanky leather cushions.
A few people stare at me, some start whispering, others seem happy to see me, but thankfully most don’t pay any attention.
No one walks up to me, no one creates a teenie scene - everyone seems to give me a two meter radius of space except for the guy behind the bar.
Rosie’s influence apparently.
I ask for water and sit there swirling the glass, watching everyone dancing madly, watching as the lights flash all over the dancers.
Eminem is over there, at the other end of the bar, sculling a brandy I think. He looks like he’s intent on getting wasted. The poor bastard.
A few other faces I recognize dancing, like Nelly, - oh my fucking god - Paris Hilton is here too - a Nicci Webster look-alike, Kelis... Argh - who cares.
I watch on, the dancers all flash like weird moving pictures under the strobe light, dancing madly.
Smiling.
Having fun.
I am going outside, it will be safer for me there. Look after yourself Mike.
I look down at Rosie who’s curled herself around my stool - she’s taller than me and I have no idea how she manages to squeeze in such small and weird spaces.
How does she do it? I wonder.
“No problem.” I nod and take a sip of my drink, watching Rosie as she unwinds herself and lopes out of the building, artfully dodging people on her way to the door.
The Disc Jockey swaps the vinyl again and all of a sudden I hear ‘Papercut’ blaring out of the speakers.
“Oh fuck.” I mutter.
People look at me as though expecting me to jump on the bar and rap along.
Heh - I don’t think so.
I slump further into the chair and take another sip of my drink, then scull it, ask for another one and scull that too.
The bar man gives me a third glass and I stare at it for a while before turning my gaze to the crowd again, dancing along, smiling, flirting.
Paris seems to be getting a bit friendly with Nelly. Danger, danger!
I snort at Blue’s thoughts and look around, catching a face - well, rather a mask - looking at me.
It’s one of those part masks like the dude in Phantom of the Opera wore and I wonder if he’s one of Nelly’s gang, but I discard the thought coz he’s white.
He’s watching me.
I glare at him and look back at my drink, grabbing it and downing it, refusing to look at the dancers for a good five minutes before turning back to see if the wacko is still there.
He’s gone.
I sigh and prop my head up with my elbow on the bar, tracing an imaginary picture out on the bar mat - suddenly my stomach does a flip flop, lurching.
I grunt and get up, walking out to the mens. I figure I’m just not used to the party scene - I mean, it reeks of sweaty bodies and alcohol in there - who could possibly tolerate that?
I stumble towards the door - hell so I feel dizzy - which way’s up?
With my gut churning, I stagger through the door and slump on the floor, watching the world tumble madly before my eyes. Whoa...
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Amnesia and Star Child