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It's Your Choice	By : coldblood Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 2004 -:- 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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Mike led him to an old office, where on the floor, was a doona and a few pillows - nothing fancy.
Chester didn’t need to ask what was going to happen next, he knew, when the emcee turned around and looked him up and down with eyes obviously undressing him, he knew.
Mike closed in and kissed him, invading Chester’s mouth forcefully, possessively - what angered Chester was the way he was allowing him to do so - it was as though his own body was working against him.
Chester growled, and Mike took the sound as a signal to go faster, in moments, both Chester and Mike were naked, erections grinding against the other’s, bodies rubbing together as though they couldn’t get close enough.
But this foreplay wasn’t like others, Mike wasn’t asking for complete submission, even when Chester lay on the doona, Mike didn’t become more aggressive.
The emcee settled himself on Chester’s thighs and rubbed lube onto his hands, warming it up before touching the tattooed singer’s almost healed orifice.
Chester - though angry - was taken aback.
That had NEVER happened before - never - Mike had always, once they reached this point, liked it hard, fast and violent, but this time he was taking meticulous care.
This time, unlike so many others, the pain was of a different kind.

“That was great... we should do it again sometime.” Mike commented, lazily staring at the ceiling.
Chester snarled and yanked his shirt on, resisting the urge to scream and throw Mike’s shoe at his blissful face.
“Yeah.” He managed to grunt.
“What’s wrong?” Dammit - he’d sensed it.
Chester shook his head and stood up, fuming, anger and guilt gushing from the dams he had built to contain it all, all of it was now flooding him so fast it threatened to engulf him.
“Chaz...?” The rapper touched his shoulder.
“Fuck off!” Chester snapped, whipping around with lightning speed and snarling like a dog.
Mike blinked in shock, but before he got a chance to respond, Chester had slammed himself to his feet and was already racing out of the warehouse.

“You know it was my fault, I know it was my fault - I shouldn’t have done it I know that - I gotta make things right somehow...” Chester panted.
His feet took him automatically, all his brain could say was that he had to get away, as far away as his hurt as possible.
He was running just as he had done all those years ago...
NO!!!
Chester clutched his crucifix harder, so hard the metal tips pierced his skin and began to bleed.
He wasn’t going to run away - he was going to face the music - and do what he should’ve done since the shooting.
He ran until his lungs felt like they were on fire, but still he wouldn’t stop, not until he reached the house he had only visited in his nightmares.
“SAMANTHA!!! HEY - ANDREA - LET ME IN - NOW!!! HELLO?! SAMANTHA...!!!” He pounded the door, screaming, rage and guilt, misery and childlike confusion ringing in his voice all at once.
Suddenly the door swung open and he was faced with the prettiest features he had seen in all the long fortnight.
“Sam...” He choked - he just couldn’t say it.
Tears welled in his eyes and he twisted his hair in his fingers, panting and choking on his gasps for air.
“Chester - what’s wrong - no - come in - now!” She let him into the den where Andrea was sitting with a mug of hot chocolate.
She left the room instantly, maybe sensing that the couple of eight years be best left alone.
“Come on honey, sit down...” Sam motioned to the sofa where Chester promptly collapsed.
“Don’t call me honey. You know as well as I do I don’t deserve it.” Chester sniffed and wiped his eyes.
Fruitlessly - as the tears still kept coming.
“I’m not mad anymore...” Samantha began.
Abruptly Chester burst into tears and instinctively his wife wrapped her arms around him, soothing him as though it were Draven.
“You don’t understand... I don’t deserve you or anyone - I’ve been a filthy, stinking fucking whore...”
And there he told everything, right from the beginning, how Mike had cornered him, how the relationship grew and after the first couple of encounters he began to like it, what his position in the relationship was - everything.
When he finished, the tears had dried and there was only stunned silence.
“You need to divorce me now... you’ve got to.” Chester pleaded, pulling away.
Sam bit her lip and blinked sharply, then shook her head.
“No. It’s Mike. He played you. He played you like a violin - and you know it.” She replied firmly.
“But I -”
“No -”
“No but -”
Samantha put her hand over his mouth and glared at him.
“No.” She repeated, voice low and aggressive.
“He did this. You did too, I understand that - but he started it.”
Chester shook his head.
He was guilty - he had taken to it - why didn’t she understand?!
“Hey Mike’s coming.” Andrea called.
Samantha stared at Chester who sat frozen, expressionless.
Then, suddenly, something faltered, something deep within Chester’s mind and stalled, failing, collapsing. Something, at the sound of Mike’s name, deep within, snapped.
He stood up, robotically, striding to the main bedroom; the room he knew contained what he needed.
Samantha was still sitting there when he came back out, but Andrea had gone out to meet the nightmare.
The front door slammed and Mike looked up from his talk to Samantha’s friend to greet Chester with a relieved expression.
“Oh fuck god - I thought something might have happened...” Mike breathed.
Chester raised a finger.
“Don’t. Use. His. Name. Like that.” His voice a snarl, a vicious low tone that was so alien to him both Andrea and Mike stared.
Chester reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the loaded gun, aiming it squarely at Mike’s head.
“Remember that promise? Remember how I had to choose?” His lips turned into a kind of grimacing, twisted smile.
Mike glanced at Andrea then back at the pistol.
“I - I don’t know what you’re saying...” He babbled.
Mike lost for words? That was something new.
“YOU FORCED ME TO CHOOSE MIKE!!!” He bellowed furiously.
Everything was slowly making sense, he knew what had to be done, everything, at last was becoming clear.
They faced off for what seemed ages, when suddenly Samantha came barging out - Chester swiveled the gun at her and forced her to stand at a distance.
He looked back to the pale emcee.
A cop car came to a squealing halt and two police men came out, guns at the ready.
“Chester, put the gun down.” It was that cop - the same one who had been at the interviews.
Chester grimaced, but kept the gun trained on Mike.
“Put the gun down Chester. You don’t want to hurt anyone...”
“FUCK IT I WANT THEM TO HURT!” Chester shouted, aiming the gun at each person, standing frozen on the spot, wary.
“They’ve hurt me. HE hurt me.” Chester turned back to Mike and his lip twitched.
“Chaz... put the gun down.” Mike urged in a small voice.
“Oh so now you’re chickening out - you MADE me choose - you wanted me to play god. That’s got nothing to do with me Mike - you forced this. No one else.” The screamer’s voice broke.
“You did this.”
Samantha moved to intervene.
“Chester...”
“Stand back!” Chester aimed the gun at her and unwillingly, she took steps back.
He aimed it back at Mike.
“You know it’s not fair. But you still want me to choose?” Chester asked softly.
Mike sighed and looked at the police for guidance - he got no signal.
“Fine.” He choked, a slight shake in his voice now.
“Choose.”
Chester rested his finger on the trigger, grimacing and fidgeting.
“I’ll choose alright.” He said firmly.
They didn’t think he saw it was a reverse psychology ploy.
The singer’s head was clear now, all that kept ringing through his ears was his plea for forgiveness with everything he had ever done - and everything he was about to do.
“Chester put the gun down!” The copper’s voice was more forceful now, piercing through his musings.
Chester sagged and stood up straight, letting the gun drop to his side - and instantly everyone began to steadily close in on him.
He looked around at the crowd and then met Samantha’s eyes, those eyes, wide with worry and fear, then so much more he couldn’t define.
“I’m sorry... I... I love you. And Draven... but I’m sorry...” He murmured.
The gun lifted and took aim.
The shot rang through the air - causing the birds in the nearby tree to take flight in alarm, the dogs from adjacent houses to bark and howl, and people from all around the neighborhood to come running.

A lone figure walked through the cemetery, the early fall leaves crunching underfoot.
The headstone that the person was heading for stood proud and new on the hill, its earth still covered with flowers.
None of them from family now.
Samantha rested her single red rose at the base of the headstone, and embraced it, crying freely for the first time since the death.
He was a messed up person, so helplessly messed up... she felt guilty she had never spotted the signs of his distress.
Her voice barely made it to a whisper, so chocked from tears the words barely made sense.
“I love you Chester... I miss you.”

THE END
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