Chapter 13
His eyes widened as they pulled up in the driveway. He watched as Chester shut the car off and climbed out. Chester's house was two stories tall with a big front yard.
"You can have your own bedroom if you want," Chester said as they walked up carrying Mike's stuff, "There's plenty of room."
"I think I'd rather sleep every night with you."
Chester blushed slightly. Was it bad that they still blushed at compliments like that? They walked in and into the living room. The room was big with a stereo in the corner and CDs all over the walls and in the shelves. He had a huge television and an Xbox. His dining room was a little smaller than the living room with a table and chairs. It was directly attached to the kitchen and he decided he'd have to cook for Chester one time.
"Come on upstairs," Chester said with a smile. They headed up and Mike saw only one open door. He walked in and stared. The walls were a dark red and the bed was covered in black sheets and blankets. There was a black carpet underneath his feet that was soft. The bed was huge and there were tons of pillows there.
"I want to sleep here," he said and Chester laughed softly.
"It's my room."
"Then I guess you'll have company."
"That's fine with me. There's extra space in the closet if you want to hang up your clothes. I'll go get us dinner."
"Okay," Mike said softly as Chester left him. He put his suitcase in the closet and hung up his clothes pretty quickly. He then sat down on the bed and touched the silky blankets. He didn't even want to eat. He just wanted to spend the day in this bed with Chester. He saw a notebook laying on the table next to the bed and he picked it up. Words were written all over it, scribbled out or bolded. He recognized lyrics from songs he knew. This was where Chester's inspiration came from. This was his beginning. Mike flipped through some of the pages and he stared down at it. These weren't lyrics, these were entries with certain words circled. Certain words that were lyrics.
High as a kite today. Feeling good.
Never gonna get there. Not even gonna try.
Words won't save me.
What have I done?
The last words were scary. Chester had gotten upset towards the end.
"Mike? Dinner's rea-"
Mike looked up and snapped the journal shut. Chester was looking at him and Mike knew that he shouldn't have opened the book.
"I'm sorry baby," he managed, "You're still my idol. I saw the first few pages and I thought it was your lyric book."
Chester nodded but didn't say anything. He just left the room. Mike set the book down and ran after him. He leaped on Chester's back.
"We are at a point, where I want to know every piece of you. You have to tell me Ches. I don't want to find a twisted story about you and not know the truth."
"After dinner," Chester said quietly. They ate quickly and Mike noticed that Chester was extremely tense. He seemed to want to make himself as small as possible. After dinner, Chester led him up the stairs and into a closed off room. There was a hot tub. Chester had an indoor hot tub. He shook his head and watched as the older man turned it on and then stripped down to his boxers. Mike followed his example and they climbed in. Chester let out a quiet sigh and Mike scooted over to sit next to him.
"Okay, now just talk," he said as he gently turned Chester away from him so he could rub his shoulders.
"I thought being high was fun when I was younger. It made me feel really good. I never thought I would make it to an actual band. I wrote lyrics all the time but no one wanted to listen. I destroyed my life. I was afraid that I'd never get to where I wanted to be. It was just a lot of angsty stuff I wrote that I wasn't sure if I wanted you to see."
