penslinger

City lights are oh so bright, as we go sliding... sliding... sliding through.

Fri, 29 May 2009 16:04:50 GMT

When I said "tonight", I clearly meant tomorrow morning. Thankfully I got out of school early and came straight home.

I receive no creativity points when it comes to thinking to titles, by the way. Credit to the fabulous Led Zepplin. I also can't write a summary to save my life.

The Song Remains The Same
Rating: R

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: Breaking up isn’t easy to do, and it certainly wasn’t easy for these six musicians. Fours years after one of the most public band breakups known to the tabloids at large, Mike and Chester finds themselves brought back together.

+++

The sound of wine glasses clinging and minimal laughter flooded your ears. Talks of politics and fashion were drowning each other out as every table in this five star restaurant was filled to the max. Every man in a snappy suit and every woman wearing the hottest dresses by the hottest designers. Gold Rolexes were shimmering in the dim lighting of the vast room, decked out in velvet curtains that draped over the windows and white, silky tablecloths that were donned on every single table, and the Coach bags that were hanging on to the women’s shoulders were of all different varieties.

“Mike, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

You looked up from your finger, which was been circling around the rim of the wine glass filled with expensive champagne, and flash the man in front of you the best smile you could muster.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“…Are you sure? You’re extremely quiet tonight.”

Just as those words left your boyfriend’s lips, the waiter comes smooching up to the two of you. You can tell from the nervous glimmer in his eyes that he is a fan. A fan of what used to bring you immense happiness and joy. Now, it all seemed like a vague memory. Yet, as vague as it seemed, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp it. Relive those moments again. As Brad orders the pricey food, and the waiter mentions how much he in fact is a fan, you can’t help but marvel at the memories of what used to be. A group that consisted of you and Brad, along with four other amazing personalities; a group whose dream it was to make music that pushed the limits and made people think. A group that eventually made it and became one of the best damn things in the music industry; a group that let the little things get to them and allowed their egos to be fed by everyone around them.

“Mike…”

Your tired eyes met his and he sighs.

“Something is obviously bothering you. You can tell me anything love.”

Your heart swelled at the sweet and almost timid way he called you ‘love’ and you forget for a minute what you were pondering on. You shake your head to show your boyfriend that nothing is in fact bothering you.

It was only until the waiter came back, with your meals at hand, and asked for both your autographs that it all came crashing back. You both complied with his request and soon he was gone, back to working. You both ate your dinners in silence and sure, it was awkward but you rather endure the uneasy silence than bringing up what once was.

Surely he would be furious to know you were still lingering in those memories.

Tonight, on E! News, we deliver the story that everyone’s talking about: former Linkin Park guitarist now turned high profile lawyer Brad Delson is officially engaged to another former bandmate, emcee and keyboardist Mike Shinoda. Details of the happy couple’s wedding plans at 8.

Thanks for that Ryan! And speaking of Linkin Park, former lead vocalist Chester Bennington is in the headlines yet again. The ex-front man was arrested earlier this morning for cocaine and marijuana possession while driving down the streets of New York around 4 a.m. Police are keeping Bennington in the slammer, with a hear-

You were shaken by the sudden black screen you were now staring at, and attempt to recollect what Chester was in trouble for this time. Drug possession and Chester Bennington, there’s nothing new there. After staring at the T.V for far too long, you turn your head to see Brad, dressed in another fine cut Italian suit that cost thousands, glaring at the television.

“I swear, he’s never going to change…that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”

“Hey, how come you didn’t tell me that we were engaged? And our wedding plans?”

Brad gave you a sympathetic look and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. His gentle lips soon made their way from your cheek to your mouth and the battle for dominance began. All while trying to memorize every inch of your mouth, Brad straddled himself on top of you and pressed his body closer to yours. The lust began to cloud your mind and all you can possibly think of is fucking Brad senseless into this comfy leather couch you were sitting on. He captured your bottom lip in his teeth and you moaned into his mouth, pulling him even closer towards you. His fingers ran freely through your hair while your tongues danced that magical dance. And in the midst of processing all this, Brad breaks the kiss and smoothly gets off you. You groan at the loss of such immense body heat and attempt to ignore the burning sensation going on in your lower regions.

“Baby…what was that for?” You asked huskily, stilling trying to bring yourself back from cloud nine.

“Nothing,” Brad began innocently, “I just felt like it. Besides, I probably won’t be able to see you for the rest of the day. This damn Marshall case is going to be the death of me.”

“You’re still on that case?”

“Yea, apparently the guy’s brother says he was with him and his wife the time of the murder. We got about 15 other people who can verify too. Now the fucker has an air tight alibi.”

Once you were sure the burning sensation had disappeared you got up and hugged your “fiancé”. He rewarded you with a tiny smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry babe, if there’s anyone that can put this asshole behind bars – it’s you.”

“Thanks, I need the encouragement.” He whispered quickly before placing another kiss on your cheek and going to find his suitcase. You threw yourself back in the couch, contemplating what to do for the rest of the day while Brad was working. Reaching over to grab the remote, you turn the television back on and watched what the latest fashion reports were with a frown adorning your face. “You don’t have any plans for the rest of the day sweetie?” Brad asked, eyeing you with some concern. As you were about to answer him with a doleful “nothing”, you read the marquee at the bottom of the screen:

Former Linkin Park frontman to be released on $2,500 bail. The singer was busted earlier today for cocaine and marijuana possession and charged with driving under the influence.

“Um…” You began wistfully, before clearly finishing, “I think I’ll visit the Big Apple today.”

Brad didn’t question your motives as he walked out the door with one last goodbye.

+++

“Right this way Mr. Shinoda.”

The police officer escorted you into the police district through a back entrance, pressumbly used by the celebrities who were arrested and didn’t want their shame to be exposed. It was raining, hard, and the raindrops were beating on your $100 umbrella Brad bought for you. The guilt of using it in this terrible weather was beginning to sink in but you brushed it off as you walked inside the badly lit district. Of course, the officers recognized you from your old days as a musician but most of them acknowledged you as Brad Delson’s fiancé. You asked quietly to see a certain inmate and one officer, whose name is Steven, leads the way towards the tiny cell.

“Hey scumbag, you got a visitor.”

You glanced over Steven’s shoulder as he twisted the keys around in the cell lock. Chester was sitting on a metal bench, his head hanging low, his jean jacket torn at the sleeves and his clasped hands visibly shaking. You narrowed your eyes on his sitting form and watched intently as his head rose to see who exactly wanted to visit him. A smile tugged at his lips as your eyes locked. Steven finally got the lock open as well as the cell, motioning you inside. You gave him a tiny grin as he existed down the hallway to rejoin the other officers.

“Well, well, well - it’s been too long Mr. Shinoda.” Chester got himself up from his bench and walked in circles around you. His actions were making you uncomfortable as you cleared your throat in an effort to cut the tension. “Can you remind me again how long? I’ve been too busy to stop and count.” He spit maliciously, stopping mid step to glare at you, burning holes into your temples.

“4 years…it’s been 4 years.” You murmured, suddenly wondering why in the world police officers would leave visitors alone in a cell without supervision. Not that Chester would ever lay a hand on you, but still. His abrasive behavior was enough to make anyone suspicious. As the walking in circles continued, Chester became aware of your attire and studied it, a scowl becoming present on his aging face. “Did Delson buy you the 60 dollar t-shirt, 80 dollar hoodie and 100 dollar jeans?” He asked playfully, no longer giving his anger away through tone of voice. You kept your gaze down at your sneakers, yet another gift from Brad, as you cleared your throat again.

“No…no he didn’t.”

Chester laughs, and its not the cheerful laugh you remember from yesteryears. It’s a laugh that made your stomach turn and your face flush. “Come on Shinoda, we both know you’re one god awful liar. Shit, you must be a pretty good fuck if he pampers you like this…”

“Alright, can we not talk about my relationship?” You snapped, growing frustrated. Chester kept that smug smile on his face and shook his head.

“Oh but its just so much fun to talk about!” He mocked, clasping his hands together loudly in mock joy. “Hell, its all you’re known for now. You and your famous, high-priced lawyer fiancé. Not your incredible lyrical abilities or your fantastic paintings, nope….you’re just Brad Delson’s bitch with a past that’s barely remembered.”

Your hands shake at your sides and you grit your teeth in pure anger. Without realizing how much fury you were releasing, you slam Chester against a concrete wall, roughly grabbing at his shirt collar. Chester’s smile stayed completely in tact, his eyebrow raised.

“Just like old times, huh Shinoda?”

No…this wasn’t like old times, you thought. You had nothing but the glorious memories. The good times, the laughs and the jokes. Before it all went on a one way train to hell. The only reason you didn’t punch Chester’s face in was because you were lost. Lost in those splendid recollections and not those that the tabloid feasted on. You remove your hands from his shirt collar and dusted yourself off.

“I’m here to bail you out so shut the fuck up and follow me.”

Chester is taken completely off guard as he stared at you curiously, his back still leaning against the wall.

“Why the fuck would you bail me out? We haven’t spoken once in 4 fucking years and you, out of fucking nowhere, decide out of the goodness in your heart you want to bail out an ‘old friend’? No fucking way.”

“You want to tell me that you’d rather spend the night here in this shithole than my apartment uptown? If you are, you’re dumber than you fucking look. Besides, it wasn’t a request. Now come on.”

Chester’s scowl had grown fainter at the sudden harshness of your voice. It boggled your mind that you still had somewhat of an effect on him, even after all these years. He followed you silently back towards Steven’s desk where you bailed him out in an instant, paying in cash. Chester’s eyes went wide as you pulled out solid 100 dollar bills and you snickered, remembering times when he would spend twice as much on his own attire and egotistical belongings. Once you paid his bail, you were lead outside by Steven and the rain had stopped pouring completely. Chester took a very deep breath during the walk to your Mercedes, greedily taking in the smell of rain lingering in the air. You allowed yourself to relax for a moment in the warmth of your car prior to shoving the keys in the ignition.

“Um…thanks, I guess.”

You looked over at Chester, who had his arms folded in a huff, looking out the window. A smile grew on your face slowly as you stopped at a red light on Fifth Avenue. “Sure. I mean, what are friends for?”

“We’re not friends.” He responded bitterly, leaning his head against the chilly window, closing his eyes as he did so.

His reply felt like a punch in the stomach and you just sighed as you turned the corner. Of course you weren’t friends. What kind of friend makes no effort to contact you in over 4 years? Biting your lip in a nervous habit, you turn on the radio to ease away the ever growing tension. A familiar tune comes on and you roll your eyes in annoyance. You hated this song. Immensely. You reached over to the dial to change the station but stop once you hear Chester singing along.

“’Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses, driving fifteen cars. The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we’ll all stay skinny ‘cause we just won’t eat and we’ll hang out in the cooooolest bars. In the VIP with the movie stars. Every good gold digger’s gonna wind up there, every playboy bunny with her-”

“…bleach blonde hair and we’ll hide out in the private rooms, with the latest dictionary and today’s who’s who.” Chester’s smile grew as you continued to sing, his head lifted from against the window. He began to clap his hands in beat to the song and bopping his head along. The laughter grew.

“They’ll get you anything with that evil smile. Everybody’s got a drug dealer on speed dial…”

“Heeeeey, hey I wanna be a rock star!”

You erupted with laughter as you pulled up to your apartment in the city, finding parking easily. Chester is laughing as well and just his laughter brings back so many memories of being in the studio making fun of certain songs whenever they came on the radio. For that moment, no tension existed. You were Mike Shinoda and he was your best friend and fellow songwriter Chester Bennington. There weren’t any drugs, money or sex involved and you were both happy and healthy. You had no skeletons to hide. You wanted to drag that moment out and make it last but alas the laughter soon died down. Chester stared at you, his smile fading slowly. Your hands were still griping the steering wheel as your own smile faded. The radio was still turned on and the song had just ended. You reached towards the dial but Chester shooed your hand away.

And there goes Nickleback with their hit from back in the day, “Rockstar.” I gotta tell ya, I never thought, of all the bands popular in those days, that Nickleback would still be around making hit records. Shit, if I had my money set on what band I thought would’ve survived I’d be dead broke right now!

You mean Linkin Park? It’s sad, very sad. They were going places, they were at places. They were one awesome band. They were so happy-go-lucky too, damn…

Yea it’s a shame what happened. Drug addiction, bickering egos, shit even adultery! Still, despite all that crap, I do miss those golden years.

You faintly hear Chester whisper “Me too.” under his breath before he got out of your car, slamming the door as he left.

05-28-09 | 6:06 P.M

Thu, 28 May 2009 22:10:31 GMT

I have a new story.

A work in progress that I've been working on for a while now. At this point, I'm at a stand still with it. I have no idea where to take it or how to thicken the plot. I need to go over the outline I half-assed for this story and make some major adjustments.

I'd like to think that it's something new and something different. Probably not, but that's alright. Originality isn't my strong suit.

I'll post it up tonight.

I also have a shitload of different ideas floating around to start my first Iron Man fic. I've been meaning to start one but could never get my thoughts together. As of now it's still a possibility. There is so much I could write about the lovely, brilliant and ~liquior lovin' Tony Stark.

But that's for another time.

I'm also rewriting Brooklyn is Burning. Not completely, but the plot changes somewhat. I feel it makes the story better.

High school is done and I have two months of nothing to do before starting college. I'm going to milk this free time for all it's worth.

Brooklyn Is Burning, Chapter 1

Sat, 06 Dec 2008 17:49:22 GMT

Alright, here is chapter one (after taking two days to find it x.x)

Also cross posting in candypaintedink !

Brooklyn is Burning
Chapter - 1/?
Rating - R
Summary - New York is the city that never sleeps - Mike knows that pretty well. And as the most popular, well respected kid at school with a great group of friends, he had nothing to lose. Nothing but his best friend. And what was worse - watching him fall in love.
Notes - summaries are not my forte, sorry. unbeta'd at the moment. idea given to me from the fabulous aswarmofsharks and I decided to really roll with it. enjoy!

.

“Shit, man…I don’t have any money. Or a MetroCard.”

A very devious smile formed on the young man’s face as he heard his best friend declare his situation out loud. Despite the dim lighting of the underground train station, the look of frustration was evident in his eyes. It was also too comical and the young man couldn’t help but laugh out loud very obnoxiously. His best friend was instantly confused, his eyes giving away a look of curiosity. Late night commuters around them began to give their own odd stares their way towards the two boys. Still he continued to laugh, tiny tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

“Um, am I missing something here?”

The laughter ceased as the question was asked, the young man’s tears wiped away by the back of his hand.

“God B, how long have we been friends?” He asked, little giggles finding their way through his lips from time to time.

“Since 7^th grade. Your point being…?” The best friend asked with even more curiosity being given away in his voice than his eyes.

The young man pointed to the late commuters who gave them looks earlier. Each one swiping their MetroCards in and walking through to their awaiting trains via the up or down stairs. To Coney Island or Brooklyn, down the stairs. If Queens or Manhattan was their destination, they chose the up stairs. The young man’s best friend was still very lost but neither said a word until there was no longer a large group waiting to swipe in. The devious smile that was wiped away due to the young man’s laughter swiftly returned. He pulled his best friend in close, draping his shoulder over him, and whispered in his ear:

“Let’s hop.”

It clicked immediately in the best friend’s head and he now too smiled the devious smile with his partner in crime. With a reassuring nod, the young man moved away from his friend and commenced his old trick. He took small steps back until his back hit a dirty concrete wall. With that smile still in tack, he started to run and upon reaching the entrance – completely jumped over it. He was now successfully, and illegally, on the other side. The young man intertwined his fingers and cracked his knuckles at a job well done. Cutting the victory short, he studied his surroundings. The commuters were busy with either a newspaper in hand or music blaring in their ears, not a soul walking up or down the stairs. Not a single eye witness.

He turned to his best friend, who was awaiting the green light. The young man gave him a thumbs up and as soon as his back hit the wall, ready to make a run towards a hop, a loud and demanding voice was heard throughout the train station.

“Hey you! Don’t even think about hopping!”

A sudden rush of fear struck the two boys and it was only amplified by the screeching arrival of their train ride home. The young man turned around and looked down the stairs, catching a quick glimpse of the graffiti covered subway. The doors opened automatically and all the sitting commuters awaiting downstairs got up and walked inside, completely ignoring the scene above them.

One minute. That’s all they had.

That voice was getting louder, and closer, so he turned back around and looked at the horror embedded in his best friend’s eyes.

“Brad, hurry! Get the fuck over here!”

Brad nodded and ran like his life depended on it. That threatening voice got even louder and the angry MTA worker started to run himself. Upon reaching the revolving handlebars of the entrance, Brad made the leap of faith and landed flat on his face, safely on the other side. The MTA worker was catching up fast and the automatic doors of their train would be closing any second now. The young man grabbed Brad by the wrist and lifted him from the floor, running down the stairs to catch their ride home. Apparently, on the side of the train gods, the boys got down the endless stairs just in time. Brad planted his foot right in between the two closing doors, causing them to retreat and open once more. Both boys took in a breath of relief as they entered the subway and watched the doors close a second later. They couldn’t contain their laughter as the MTA worker, at that exact moment, made it down the stairs while yelling inaudible curses.

Another deceitful deed completed.

“Some habits die hard, don’t ya think?”

“I thought we swore never to do that again Mike.”

The young man known as Mike shrugged, leaning his back against the pole that many a commuters have gripped on for support. Brad, already regretting their choice to hop, decided to remain seated. He kicked his feet up against an empty seat beside him. “You didn’t have any money and neither did I. Besides, you didn’t argue when I mentioned it. How else were we supposed to get home?”

Brad didn’t respond as he lifted his hoodie up and rested his head against the dirty window. Mike sighed as he lifted up his loose fitting jeans, adjusting the belt one notch tighter to avoid them riding down again. He also adjusted the blue bandana that hung from his back pocket and brushed the invisible dirt off his well fitted white tee. And while lost in this form of modifying, Mike didn’t hear a word that Brad had just said.

“Yo Mike, you up there?”

Mike looked up from his worn Air Jordans and stared at his best friend. “Yea, what’s up?”

“I said why did we ever agree to go all the way to Hell’s Kitchen….all this trouble just for a damn party.”

A tiny smile found its way to Mike’s face as he shoved Brad’s feet off the seat, sitting right down next to him.

“Because the music was dope, the girls were smokin’ and the mary jane was euphoric.”

Brad laughed and looked into Mike’s eyes. The miniature staring contest the boys had only fueled Brad’s laughter. He knew Mike was still feeling the effects of the joint they shared back at the wild house party a friend was throwing. The fact that this friend lived all the way in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan was not enough to stop the two Brooklyn bound friends. Unfortunately, the rapture of the shared joint had worn off Brad by the time the two reached the train station. Mike, on the other hand, was still in that euphoric kingdom high in the sky. His deep chocolate colored eyes were still dilated and his speech was low and husky. Not to mention he now had the attention span of a walnut.

The rest of the ride home was quiet, aside from nudging a sleeping Mike awake in order to transfer subway lines. The effects were finally wearing off him as he became grumpy and intolerable. The normal aftermath of a Mike smoking session, Brad knew that all too well. That and the ever growing pains of…

“I’m hungry B. Let’s get some pizza at Ray’s.”

Brad looked over at his half Japanese friend as the two walked up the stairs towards the exit. The streetlights were shining brightly, signaling the time as midnight. He watched intently as Mike swayed from side to side, walking with his eyes closed as they turned a corner toward their usual late night pizza shop. The aftermath was right on schedule tonight. His speech was now soft, his mood more mellow and his hunger increasing with every passing second. Brad knew him better than he knew himself. While he was high, anyway.

“Didn’t the fact that I have no money register in your cloudy brain yet?”

“Ray will let you off, he’s a good guy.”

With one disgruntle sigh, Brad and Mike walked into the pizza shop, the loud jingling of bells indicating their arrival. Behind the counter was a rather tall, thick Italian accented man that the two boys came to know as Ray. He never turned down his favorite customers, no matter how late or early the hour. He lived in an apartment alone right across the street so it wasn’t a hassle for him, which the two friends were very grateful for. Ray took his attention away from his newspaper and cup of coffee to see who had entered his store and a smile graced his lips upon seeing their faces. He set his coffee and newspaper down and ran a hand through his thick brown hair, ready to get to cooking.

“Hey there Brad, Mikey.” He said, his Italian accent shining through.

“Wuddup Ray.” Mike responded jadedly, his head suddenly aching. Yet another symptom, Brad thought as he walked up to a stool right in front of the counter. “Hey Ray, mind getting us the usual?” Brad asked, taking his everyday seat. Ray smiled even wider, looking once at Brad and then at Mike, whose drained appearance made him laugh.

“Sure, no problem. Be back in a few.” Ray said, pulling a white apron on and heading into the kitchen in the back. Brad turned in the moving stool and looked at Mike, with his head buried in his folded arms, sitting at a booth next to a wide window. Brad joins his despairing friend, sitting on the other side of the booth and nudging his arm.

“What?” Mike spat groggily, his head still buried in his folded arms.

“Didn’t you say you wanted pizza? It’ll be here in a bit.” Brad spoke, still nudging him to lift up his head.

No response came from him as he did lift his head up, his dark locks of hair completely disheveled, wiping the sleep away from his eyes with his hands and yawning like a child. It was so adorable Brad almost couldn’t take it. He had to restrain himself from going over and giving him a warm hug.

Suddenly, a familiar tune came up on the forgotten radio and Mike began bopping his head along with the beat. Brad didn’t notice what Mike was doing until he pulled his hoodie off his growing afro of locks and commenced to stare at his friend with a smile. Yet another symptom – the sudden urge to rap.

“I’ma storm your parade; blow your legs off with a grenade. Now you flappin’, like a mermaid, yappin’ off. Bitch you cough at the lips while I’m at the bar, baggin’ the bartender tips. Then I bag this chick with a ‘Hi’ and the eye. She did the butterfly, rubbin’ her ass against my button fly. I could already imagine my shit stuck inside. Every time I strike, haters be like ‘That fucking guy!’”

Brad exploded into a sea of laughter as Mike stopped rapping to catch his breath. The two boys hear the familiar laughter from Ray as he walks up to them, their pizza slices in hand. “Mikey you should really consider taking up rapping; you have a natural flow.” Ray said as he gave both Brad and Mike their pepperoni slices.

“Thanks Ray but I don’t think I can rap for a living.”

Ray simply nods as he leaves the boys alone to eat, the marijuana leaving a heavy pit of hunger in their stomachs.

Brad couldn’t help but stare at Mike while he ate. The way he chewed 26 times before swallowing, the way he would pick out the pepperonis and eat them separately and the way he folded the thin crusted pizza slice in half to make it easier to eat. Brad noticed it all. He also happened to notice Mike giving him a strange glance.

“Am I that g-good looking that y-you can’t take your eyes off m-me?”

His speech was slurred, just a little. And just as Brad was about to open his mouth to explain his staring, Mike shook his head. For what seems like the thousandth time that night, Brad was confused. Mike took one last bite of his pizza and commenced to talk with a full mouth, something Brad by now was used to.

“You know…I’m g-glad we’re friends. You’re the only o-one that really…gets me, ya know? You don’t judge me or the t-things I do a-and…..I don’t know….but thanks…for being there and stuff.”

Brad didn’t know how to respond so he didn’t. He just sat there, looking out the window and playing with his fingers, like a nervous child. Mike swallowed his final mouthful and curiously eyed his best friend’s actions. With his head titled to the side slightly and his eyes like those of a hush puppy, Mike asked: “Hey…you alright B?”

Brad found the strength to tear his eyes away from the uneventful outside and look at Mike’s childlike expression. He managed up a smile and nodded.

“Yea, I’m fine. Just…let’s go on home. It’s getting real late.”

“No. Something is buggin’ you. Spill it.”

One of the few things Brad couldn’t stand about Mike was his persistence to find out every single little situation and try to resolve it. He could never leave anything alone. Both a blessing and a curse Brad assumed. Mike’s gaze turned from one of curiosity to one of intention and Brad knew he had to say something.

“Well…I just didn’t know I meant so much to you. It sounds stupid I kn-”

The punch Mike gave to Brad’s shoulder was a mixture of playful and painful. Brad’s hand instantly went to rub some of the minor pain away as he tried to lower himself down from his level of surprise. Mike’s expression was also on a new level of surprise. His eyes were watery and his trembling hand ran through his still disheveled hair.

“Don’t ever say stupid shit like that again, ya hear me?” Mike’s voice was raspy and Brad just nodded. “You’re my best friend B…” Mike wiped his unseen tears rapidly with the back of his hand and in that same moment, placed it on top of Brad’s. “…and you mean so much to me.” He gave a tight squeeze on Brad’s hand and Brad just couldn’t believe it. Mike’s slurry speech had dissolved and Brad hoped, prayed even, that this wasn’t some symptom of the pot that he had never seen before. He couldn’t stop the strawberry colored blush that was forming on his pale face and Mike just smiled.

“Come on, we should head home.”

In that moment, Mike let go of Brad’s hand and grabbed his small wrist, dragging him up on his feet. With both boys saying their goodbyes and thank you’s to Ray, they began their walk home. Mike walked merrily, shaking his head from side to side to an imaginary beat, his eyes set up at the starry night sky from time to time. Brad walked by his side, sans the merry. He couldn’t tear his mind away from Mike’s affectionate words and every time he could, glanced over at his care free best friend, hoping for the best.

oh first post jitters

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 00:29:24 GMT

okay, I finally threw all my nerves out the window and decided to create a writing journal.

I've wanted to create one since I started writing fics but I figured I'd wait til I had a good amount of material to post up here. and while it isn't up to par yet - I do have a story I want to post. since I'm posting from my iPod Touch, I can't post it now but I'll definitely post it later. it's much more convenient to have it all up here instead of having it on my personal LJ (which is free to be added at anytime by anyone :D)

well, I guess that was the first post. the first chapter will be up shortly (:

Posted via LiveJournal.app.