Eye of the Storm

Thoughts were spinning

As Mike Shinoda opened his eyes in the morning, he was met with the soft glow of sunlight announcing the next day to him. A turn of his head showed him a mixture of black and cream fur, warm across his arm. Glancing the other direction, he looked at the clock to see it read 9:21 am; surely Rob had left already. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone, notifications lighting the screen. Removing his arm from under his dog, he skimmed various messages, choosing the ones to read thoroughly. Two sent almost half an hour earlier were the ones he cared about.

From Maggie:

Boy was that a job

It'll be ready in a little over an hour.

That was all he needed to know. Stretching, he sat up and tossed the covers, slipping his glasses on his face. After using the bathroom quickly, he made his way downstairs, his groggy pets following slowly behind. He went to the dining room first, opening the sliding glass door to allow the dogs to get out for a minute. There, he found a smiling Brad at the table, phone in one hand, a steaming mug of coffee in the other. In the kitchen, there was enough in the pot left for his own cup, to which the Asian added honey.

Across the city, Chester Bennington was also rising, waking up to something much harsher than warm coffee---something like a cup of icy water.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, shaking his head, his eyes wide open to find his wife, a glass in one manicured hand, the other resting on her jutted out hip.

"Asshole," the woman snarled down at him, dropping the empty cup on his chest.

"I was out late, I'm sorry, Sam," the man fell back on the cushions of his couch, hands to his now cold and wet face. He had hoped she would just leave in the morning, and that he could prolong their inevitable argument even later.

"You could have called or answered at least one of my fucking messages. Jesus, why do I even bother? You obviously don't give a shit because you make no fucking effort in this relationship!" she was screaming, and his head was pounding.

"Can we not do this right now?" he cringed.

"Oh and when would we, huh, Chester? You're never here! You don't come home after work, you don't tell me where you're gonna be, when else is there?" she shrieked.

"Maybe I would come home if you did something other than yell at me all the time," he retorted, sitting up with a glare.

"If you weren't such an idiot and a fuckup, maybe I wouldn't have to yell at you!"

"Right, everything's my fault. Glad we've established that for the eighty-billionth time," he rolled his eyes as he massaged his temples. The last thing he saw was her middle finger before his wife marched out the door, slamming it as she left.

With a groan, he reached out to his glasses where he left them on the coffee table. He brought them to his face, and stood, wobbling a little as he slowly walked to the kitchen area. After putting on a pot of coffee, the thin man moved to his bathroom to undress and take a shower. The water was warm at best, and he exited feeling only a tiny bit refreshed. A towel around his waist, he went to their bedroom only long enough to dress for work.

His coffee was acceptable, and he sipped it trying to relax at the counter. The hot beverage and some aspirin helped to tame the headache, allowing him to think. His mind took him back to the previous night yet again. He knew he had to go back to the bar despite what both Shinoda and Rob had told him. The whole place called to his entire existence, begging him to return to its shady ambience. The thin man was desperate to find out who the men were and why they seemed to rule the place.