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Memorial - In Loving Memory of Chester Gregorich, 1981-2005
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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Linkin Park

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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Anything for You
By ForeverChazy (MTluvsCHAZY)

 


         "There she is!" came a voice from way back beyond the bunks. The sudden reaction of my entrance surprised me, for I had barely made myself noticeable as I climbed into the spacious black tour bus. Immediately I heard the rustling of paper, squeaking of chairs, and the casual footsteps of six individuals making their way in my direction. My heart was pounding in my ears as I stood, my hands in the pockets of my jeans, awaiting the group to appear before me. I heard the floor creek up ahead of me, and gulped. Here they come.
         It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The first one to turn the corner was Mike Shinoda, the emcee, rapper, and vocalist of Linkin Park. His jet black hair was spiked up and tipped red (just how I liked it), and his sparkling brown eyes smiled at me, just like the rest of him. Next came Rob Bourdon and Brad Delson, the drummer and guitarist. I noticed Brad had gotten a haircut, and Rob had let his hair grow out. Interesting, I mused. Then came Joe Hahn and Phoenix Farell, the DJ and bassist, who looked like they normally did.
         Though my eyes kept flashing to Mike and the rest of the gang, my mind was racing. Where the hell is Chester? I panicked, waiting for him to enter the room. As Mike and Joe made their way towards me, I took a deep breath, hoping, praying Chester would soon show.
         And there he was.
         Chester Bennington. Chazy Chaz. The Chemist. He was dressed in a tight black tee and a pair of stonewashed skinny jeans, chains dangling from the pockets and his studded black belt, and a pair of grey low-top sneakers. Around his neck was a black choker with mini silver spikes and a cross necklace. His wrists and fingers were adorned in random bracelets and rings, and his hair was neatly trimmed and restored to its natural sandy brown color. His dark hazel eyes shot to mine, stopping my heart like a bullet would, but restoring my pulse right away.
         To my luck I hadn't spaced out long enough for one of the guys to have to get my attention. I averted my gaze from his perfect figure and looked at the entire group, smiling madly as I walked over to them.
         "You must be Maggie," Mike said, breaking the silence. Grinning, I nodded to him, speechless. "I'm Mike, as you may already know," he teased, extending his hand for me to shake. I grasped his warm hand carefully and shook it, staring up into his chocolate eyes.   
         "You're a lot taller than I expected," I told him, prodding one of his many addictive laughs out of him. Brad and Joe chuckled as well, as they came over to me, forming a line behind Rob, whose hand I shook next. Phoenix joined the line behind Joe, and then finally Chester slowly took the back of the line.
         When it came Chester's turn to shake my hand, I hesitated, feeling the beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck. I took a deep breath, and with every bit of nerve in me, whispered to him, "...and you're a lot quieter than I expected."
         "Yeah, Chaz, I noticed that, too," Mike chimed in, his tone of voice playful. He cocked his head, waiting for a response from him, as I was.
         The corners of his mouth lifted a bit. "Maybe I just have nothing much to say," he responded quietly. He looked to Mike, then to Brad, and then right back to me. He shook my hand gently, his eyes rapidly studying me as he did so.
         "Since when do you have nothing to say?" I said slyly, dropping my hand and biting my lip.
         "Since he met youuuuuu," Rob joked.
         My cheeks flushed rose-red as I glared at him, the others laughing at his stupid joke. Of all things to say to me! I thought, trying to get a hold of my uncontrollable blushing. None of them had any idea how much I loved Chester, not even Chester himself. My eyes widened as my gaze shot to him, whose face was also beat red. I looked away quickly, then caught another glimpse of him. It can't mean what you think it does, I told myself, and shoved that pestering feeling aside.
         "So, I'm sure you're dying to see this place," Joe said, changing the subject.
         "Without a doubt!" I said, letting some of my held-back excitement out.
         Mike grinned at me. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" he asked. "Lead the way, Brad."

         Brad lead us back the way they had entered the room. The inside of the bus was a lot bigger than I had expected! I giggled silently at the sight of colorful christmas lights lining the hallway, the band's signature home decorating trait.   
         The first room we got to was the kitchen, or "The place with all necessary items for survival," as Phoenix would say.
         "Including waffles?" I asked, recalling the YouTube video I had once watched involving "waffle shooters" being crowned Mike's official energy drink.
         Mike chuckled, opening the freezer to reveal the eight boxes of frozen Eggo waffles, and then opening the refrigerator to reveal the bottle of syrup and tub of butter hidden amongst the many bottles of beer and cans of cola.
         "Yes, including waffles," he replied.
         The next room we visited was the bunk room. Each side was stacked with three beds, all with matching black pillows and bedspreads. Pictures were taped up on the walls, creating a collage effect, and clothes were scattered all over the floor. "I'm a slob," Chester pretended to brag as he kicked various shirts out of the way. "Get used to it!"
         Then we stopped by the bathroom. "Nothing much to see here," Brad mentioned after allowing me a moment to look around.
         We passed the living room on the way to the one place I wanted to see the most: the studio. We arrived in front of two large black doors, in which Mike unlocked for us, and then entered the wonderland.
         There was everything I had imagined and more in that room; a DJ station, all the instruments you would ever need to make the music they did, speakers, and a desk with mixers and Mike's laptop. There were empty cans of soda and lyric sheets everywhere, and even some left over balloons from the time they had flooded the place with them.
         "This is where we do what we do best," Joe told me.
         I got to experiment with all the instruments. I shredded on the drums, strummed the electric guitar, and even played the xylophone.     
         "She's got potential," Rob told Phoenix after I perfectly imitated the drum solo in Faint.
         "Better watch your back," he warned.
         Once the tour was over, we all went into the living room. I sat on the far end of the three-person couch, opposite Chester and right next to Brad. There was a bowl of pretzels on the coffee table, in which the guys were already helping themselves to.
         "What would you like to drink?" Joe called from the kitchen. "We've got Coke, 7-Up, root beer..."
         "I'll take a Coke, please," I called back.
         "Good choice," Mike said, reaching for his can already sitting on the table.
         I reached over to grab a pretzel, and as I fished one out of the dish, my hand bumped something cool. I knew as soon as I had felt a spiky ring brush my wrist that it was Chester's hand. Goosebumps formed on my shoulders and a tingling sensation burned in my throat. I felt his eyes on me as I munched silently on my pretzel, begging me to look in his direction. Reluctantly I shifted my gaze to his smiling face, the light hitting his silver lip ring just enough to make it shine. I let myself smile, my eyes locked on his, when suddenly Joe set my Coke down on the table, distracting me.
         "Thanks," I said, popping the top and taking a sip of the cold, fizzy soft drink.
         "No problem," he said casually.
         For about an hour we talked mainly about me. The guys were all interested in how much I knew about the band, so Mike shot trivia questions at me from time to time. Eventually it became some kind of mad game of Trivial Pursuit, with each of them going around the circle quizzing me on everything from lyrics to previous tour dates. I floored them, needless to say, with my impeccable knowledge of everything Linkin Park. They were by far impressed with me, and I loved it.
         Then we got to talking about all that they've been up to. I told them I had heard Lockjaw, their instrumental song meant to be going on their new album, and that New Divide was one of my all-time favorites. They told me that they're working triple time; with Mike working on Fort Minor, Chester working on Dead By Sunrise, and all of them working on the new Linkin Park record. I was glad to hear there would soon be more of everything.
         After awhile, Chester came up with the idea of letting each person play my favorite songs. I liked the idea and was glad he was finally warming up to me. Mike volunteered to go first. He led me into the studio and shut the door, making me sit in his rolling director's chair.
         "So, you call the shots," he told me, sitting backwards on his piano bench. "What Fort Minor songs do you want to hear?" His eyes glistened as he awaited my selections.
         I immediately requested Red to Black, Petrified and Get Me Gone.
         "Interesting," he mused, stroking his chin. "I was expecting some of the more popular songs."
         He stood up, got his guitar and started up his keyboard, and played me my favorites. This moment was priceless. I lip synced the words to Get Me Gone, which got him to screw up and laugh.
         When he was finished, he put his stuff back and said, "Anything else I can do for you?"
         This is a once in a lifetime chance, I thought. I blinked, took a deep breath, and asked in a shaky voice..."Can I...well...can I hug you?"
         He chuckled, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Of course you can," he said, pulling me into a nice, warm hug.
         "I will never forget this," I whispered.
         "Me neither," he murred.
         And before I knew it, he was out the door.
         My body was still shaking when he brought in Phoenix, Rob, Brad and Joe. They provided me with instrumentals on In Pieces, One Step Closer, Papercut, and From The Inside. They also gave me a folder with the piano sheet music to New Divide and Numb. It was really different hearing the songs without someone singing or rapping in them, but I enjoyed the unique experience. Brad snuck up on Rob and scared the crap out of him, making me nearly die of laughter, and Phoenix accidentally tripped Joe on his way out the door.
         Then finally, it came time for the moment I had been anticipating. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I watched Chester enter the room, closing the door behind him. He took a seat on the rolling computer chair in front of me. Our knees touched as he leaned forward on the chair.
         "Hi," I murmured.
         "Hey," he replied.
         My eyes met with his, and they remained that way for a moment or two. The silence was golden, yet I was dying to hear his sweet, beautiful voice.
         After what seemed like an eternity, he broke the silence. "Whatever it is you want to hear from me," he said in a near whisper, "let me know."
         I knew exactly what I had been craving for him to sing. After building up my courage, I asked him to sing The Little Things Give You Away, Leave Out All The Rest, and my favorite, Shadow Of The Day.
         And he did. He sang to me with every emotion flowing like a river from his soul. Never before had I heard such power and devotion in his voice. It was as if nobody was around, not even me.
         He was like an angel; heavenly. Like candy; my sweet addiction. Like dancing in the rain; my guilty pleasure. I was in the presence of the one person I had always dreamed about, and he was making all my dreams come true.
         When he finished, he stood, as Mike had. I didn't want this moment to end...ever...but I knew it had to sometime. That was life. I looked him in the eyes, watching tears well up in the very corners. I bit my lip, blinking back my own.
         "What did you think?" he whispered.
         I shivered, swallowing hard. "It was beautiful," I quietly choked out.
         Without thinking (or asking permission for that matter), I threw my arms around him, holding him close. Tears leaked out, crashing to the floor silently as I attempted to maintain my breathing. I had wanted nothing more than for him to hold me. He was my inspiration, my idol...and, though he would never feel the same...my true love.  
         Though still surprised, he wrapped his arms around me, holding my head to his chest and running his fingers through my hair. I felt his warm breath on my neck as I ran my fingers along his spine, his slim, sexy body pressed to mine. He gently brought my hand up to his, lacing our fingers together while his other hand ran along my collarbone.
         I was in awe. My fantasy was becoming a reality, and relatively quickly, too. I saw the love in his eyes and felt the desire in his touch. It was impossible for me to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming, that I really was in the arms of Chester Bennington. But somehow I knew it was real. Deep down in my heart I knew that this feeling could never be brought on by simply a dream. 
         He looked down at me, his piercing eyes seeing right through to me. Carefully he lifted my chin with his gentle fingers, his other hand pulling me even closer to him than before. Slowly he leaned in, his delicious lips nearly pressed to mine. My heart raced like never before as he closed his eyes, only about a centimeter away from kissing me.
         "No. No, Chaz, I can't."
         He opened his shining eyes, slowly backing away from me.        
         "It's not that I....I mean, you're married...you...I don't want to hurt you in the long run."
         He turned away, as if he had been hurt already. His body was stiff, and he shuddered as if he were just slapped across the face.
         Seeing the damage I had done, I covered my eyes and cried out my apology. "I am so, so sorry."
         He held his breath, as did I. He turned in my direction, and I felt him near me. He rested his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close once more, gently prying my hands away from my eyes and wiping away the hot tears.
         And in one swift movement he softly locked his lips with mine. My eyes shot open, my body thrown into shock at that very moment. I felt the cool metal of his lip ring pressed into my mouth, tasting it, along with the familiar flavor of minty Chapstick. His nails gently dragged down my scalp, sending tingling vibrations throughout my entire body. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, allowing him to kiss me rather than preventing him from it. He pulled away, taking a deep breath before kissing me again, this time harder. I moaned quietly, my hands running along his sides.
         He stopped once more as he pushed me up against the wall. "Why should you be sorry?" he said breathlessly, a small moan escaping him then.
         "Forget about what I said," I sighed, my fingers brushing his short brown hair and lips on his bony neck.
         He kissed my cheek, my ear, my jawline and then returned to my lips. Never had I felt so good before.
         "And besides," he whispered, "you can keep a secret, can't you?"
         "Anything for you, Chester."
         "Anything?" he whispered seductively.
         I giggled. "Depends what you mean by that."
         My back slid down the wall as I continued to kiss the gorgeous screamer. More than ever I was convinced that Talinda was the luckiest woman in the world to be married to this godsent. However, I convinced myself that I was the luckiest fangirl in the world to be kissing this godsent.
         Which got me thinking about why the hell he was kissing me. Why he had been so shy and paranoid when I first met him. And most of all, why he wasn't concerned about getting caught. Though it was risky, I was annoyed by these questions and needed to find out the truth.
         "Chester," I said, breaking the bonds of our lips.
         He opened his beautiful eyes. "Hmm?"
         I straightened up. "Why me?"
         He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Why not you?"
         "That's not what I asked."
         He sighed, fiddling with one of the chains on his belt. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure." He gazed at me. "There's something about you...that I just can't explain."
         "If you say it's because of my beauty I'll slug you."
         He blinked in surprise. "Why's that?"
         "Because I'm not beautiful!" I exclaimed.
         He took my hands in his. "Says who?"
         "Says everyone I know," I muttered.
         He grinned. "Not me, that's for sure."
         I blushed. "Really?"
         "Yeah. Don't worry. The word 'beautiful' is tossed around too much, anyways. No one really knows the true meaning anymore."
         I brushed back some of the hair over his ear. "Not unless they've met you, of course."
         He said nothing, yet smiled contently, hoping to return to where we left off.
         "But...what about Talinda? You still love her, don't you?"
         He stared at me in horror. "Of course I do! She's my wife. She cares for me like I care for her." As soon as he had said that, I could see his face turn pale.
         "Then why are you doing this?"
         "Because....because..." His voice trailed off as a lump in his throat began to form. "You...you don't seem like a....a materialistic type of girl."
         He coughed. "I married Talinda because I love her. I was convinced she felt the same way...but after Samantha left me...I was numb to the truth."       
         I rubbed his back. "What are you trying to say, Chaz?"  
         He exhaled. "I...I'm not sure she loves me for me."
         I gasped. "Oh....oh Chaz," I stuttered, "I'm sure she does!"
         He turned to me, hot tears flooring his deep hazel eyes. "But not as much as you do."
         I froze, breaking into a cold sweat.    
         "That's why I was quiet earlier today," he explained. "I could sense it the minute you looked at me. You were a fangirl, I knew, but unlike any other fangirl I had ever met."
         He glanced at the door. "I can tell you like Mike too," he whispered, jealousy coating his voice.
         "He's oblivious to the fact," I pointed out.
         "You think he can tell you like me?"
         "I dunno...ask him later."
         Suddenly, to my dismay, Chester's phone beeped. He reached in his pants pocket and pulled it out, a sleek new Blackberry.       
         "Lucky," I mumbled under my breath.
         He smiled at my comment, fumbling with the device. However, his smile faded as he read the text message he had just recieved. "You've got to go," he told me. "They're checking in the fan club members at four."
         I frowned, getting myself into a standing position. He slipped the Blackberry back in his pocket and gazed at me.       
         He brought me close to his body, not quite embracing me but still holding me tight. "Try to get a front row spot," he begged me, kissing my forehead. "I'd do anything to be able to be close to you again."
         I smiled, brushing myself off before wrapping my arms around him. "Anything for you, Chester."
         And with that, I slowly made my way out of the studio, looking back at him, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, just where I had left him.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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