Contradictions of Reality
The Hunger
(( Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own LP or ...yeah. Don't sue. ))
You'll always be by my resentful side
I can't fight, I can't try
It'll always be my little lie
The crowd screamed as Chester finished belting out his last note. It gave him a rush to hear his fans singing along with his songs and if it weren't for his baggy jeans, the audience (or band members) might be able to see the evidence.
"Thank you! Good night, New York!" yelled Mike from his position at the keyboard into his microphone. Again, another roar from the crowds.
Chester threw his fist into the air as a departing gesture and headed off stage to meet the few who had gotten ahold of backstage passes, his band mates coming along shortly. As he turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of the crowd of girls prowling through the hall. Quickly, he jumped back, hoping they didn't see him. Chester looked all about to see if any bouncer or bodyguards were about to no avail.
Just as he was about to make a run for it, Mike, flanked by two security guards, clapped him on the back. "Another good one, right?" he asked, grinning as he took a swig of the cool water from the bottle.
"Err, yeah... Hell yeah!" Chester replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
Mike furrowed his brow in question, taking another drink. "What's up?" It was then a scream broke the air and he didn't need an answer. The security guards, as fast as they were, managed to keep the girls (who had obviously heard them talking) from ravaging the two men and finally calmed them all down. Just as Mike and Chester were starting to sign autographs, take pictures, and whatnot, the rest of the band showed up and sent the girls into a frenzy again.
During all the commotion, Chester managed to slip out as unnoticed as conceivingly possible. As much as he enjoyed his fans, he just wasn't feeling it tonight. He was still coming down from last night's frolick when Mike had invited some fans to their already crowded private after-party. As Chester began to reflect on the events of last night, a sensation stirred deep within him; a desire he had thought long extinguished. While his bandmates knew of his previous addiction, it still didn't keep them from caring about the cocaine the floated freely around the room in champagne glasses. It scared him that he could hunger for the white powder when he had convinced... convinced himself didn't mean anything to him, not anymore...
"Linkin Park have kicked off their three-night private performance at District 12*. The band will be grouped with a select few of well-known locals in attempts to raise money for the..."
Back at the hotel, he paced his room. After he finished his shower (and cooled himself down from the hype of the concert), he got dressed, turned on the news, the volume low, and tried to shake the nervous feeling plaguing him. Pace pace pace.
"...each performances will be followed up with a string of private parties in order to further funding the charity. Passes, though sold out, went for a two-thousand each..."
He dug his fingernails into his shaking palms as he contemplated ways to make this feeling go away.
"Chester!" yelled a voice, a pounding on the door. "You in there, man?!" the person asked.
"Yeah!" he shouted back, stopping in his tracks. Anxiety ran through his veins. Faced toward the wall, he asked, "What is it?"
"Hey, the party is about to start... Mike wants to know if you're ready," the voice, obviously Brad Delson, replied.
There was a pause.
"Chester?" Another knock, as if to get the nervous man's attention again.
"I'll be down," he replied determinedly.
It was obvious that he wasn't to be disturbed so Brad, on the other side of the door, shrugged and headed for the elevator.
As soon as Chester knew he was gone, he turned off the television and he laid on the bed. He began to repeat a mantra he had learned back when he defeated the habit.
After five minutes of the chanting, he sat up. It half-amused, half-angered him that the party they were hosting was raising money for a Drug/Alcohol-Free charity for teens when most of the guests drank and did drugs freely. Some of them were barely even of drinking age.
A shrug.
Feeling a new wave of courage, he got to his feet, adjusted his cuff, and was off to the party.
A simple little thing like cocaine wouldn't stop him from having a good time, would it?
(( Yes, I do realize this chapter was a bit boring. I had to write SOME introduction for my fanfiction (that paved the way for the rest) and I just started writing the intro without thinking about it. The rest will all be based on vaiours dreams, nightmares and situations I've been through (and will have elaborated on). *Self-inserted Mary Sue.* =D Oh, and the lyrics above belong to me. ))
[ * District 12 is a some random club I made up. Leave me alone. ~_~ ]