Linkin Undead (Hollywood Undead FanFic)

Hollywood Undead

*One Month Later*

~Dylan~

"You got expelled?!" Mike exclaimed. The other guys just widen their eyes and stared at me.

I didn't tell them until now. It kind of made me cringe at their response. They all wanted me to stay in school no matter what, all of them told me to "get good grades" and "don't do drugs". It bothered me on how they worried about me so much. I know I was younger than them, but that doesn't mean anything. I could take care of myself. My rich Hispanic-Latino parents didn't even give a sh*t about me, really. All they cared about were my grades and.. attendance in school. I mostly had to take care of myself.

"When the hell did this happen?" Danny asked curiously.

"About a month ago.." I murmer. I knew they would be pissed off at me.

The day was too nice to get lectured. The smog wasn't clouding the sky as it always did. The sun was shining brightly in the sky. Birds chirped peacefully filling the air so it wasn't so quiet. The smell of the ocean hit me greatly, making my muscles relax.

"What did you do?" Aron threw his hands in the air.

I sat down slowly in the spongey green grass. With a sigh, I told them exactly what happened. I told them about the incident with my parents, even the conversation with the principle. All of them sat down and listened. The only ones who weren't were George and Jorel because they weren't here at the park yet. Chester was in the tree, but he stared down at me, listening contently.

"You just said 'hell'?" Matt asked, looking a bit disgusted. His voice said it all. He was irritated at the teacher that sent me to the office.

I lay back in the grass. Some of the blades tickled my ear, so I propped my head up. Grass drove me insane sometimes. Long grass was the worst, when you walked through it, the long pieces would brush passed my leg and tickle it so much it itched. Just thinking about it was making my legs feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry, the idiots that were making this food were being complete dumb asses and making the food slow." George came up behind me, followed by Jorel.

Jorel kept quiet, just like a puppy would do when they followed you around. His hair hung in his face, about an inch longer than it was a few weeks ago. It grew too fast. He was wearing a large black sweatshirt that looked like it was George's, but after awhile I found out that it was his. J wore baggy black shredded pants with converse. He'd brush some of his hair out of his face showing his gentle brown eyes that shown dark underneath them.

Jorel was still depressed. I haven't seen him smile in a long time. It was taking him awhile to get comfortable with the world without his brother. He never really communicated with us unless it was a snappy comeback.

"Mr.," George began, tossing us each a bag of McDonald's food after expecting the inside of the bag, "Mr. Hollywood Undead over here actually knocked some sense into them."

Jorel's head snapped up at George. He glared at him, then opened his mouth slightly, "Don't call me that."

His voice was small, but there was a lot of anger held in it. George turned to him as he shoved a fry in his mouth, "I'm messin' with you."

We giggled softly, knowing exactly what it meant. LA isn't clean at all. The people who live here, even the kids are just so homely, and they look undead. There were Emos, punks, goths.. Or even beyond that. We made fun of them, and named LA "Hollywood Undead". It was true though, we could hardly find any normal people walking down the street.

"No, you say it because it's true." Jorel snaps. We exchanged looks from each other. What was he talking about?

He was just dressing this way because he didn't care what he wore. Yes, it was mostly black clothing, but sometimes we would find him wearing unmatched clothing. Maybe he was part of the Hollywood Undead.

*flash forward*
2011

"So, why did you come up with the band name, 'Hollywood Undead'?" The interviewer asked us. She was a stocky lady, holding a microphone in her hand and in the other a sign which said something about her interview show.

Johnny grasped over at the microphone which was in Jordon's hand. He passed it around the small group, Danny, then to me, then to Johnny. Matty looked over at him, smiling his ass of like he always did.

I fixed my hat as I leaned back on the couch. We were on our tour bus, behind some auditorium. Danny sat on the floor, once in awhile flipping the lamp on and off with his shoulder every time he bumped the side table.

George finally glanced around at us, as if trying to seek for someone else, "Um, J-Dog, actually-- well, he's not here at the moment--"

"He's sick." Matthew said with his raspy voice.

"-- yeah, uh, he's sick right now. That's why he's not here."

"Yeah." I nod, agreeing.

"Anyways, he came up with the name. There are a couple reasons why, but one of them is that just the people in LA are.."

"Weird." Jordon answered.

"More than weird. They just look so-- they wear dark clothes and they look undead, so we call LA Hollywood Undead."

"Well, you know, also J-Dog was the--"

"Yeah, J was the--" Johnny burst into laughter, "J-Dog was the kind of the Hollywood Undead."

Matthew joined all of us in the laughter, even though he was interrupted by George. Usually he would pout over little things such as that. I guess today wasn't that day.

Daniel switched the lamp light off again, causing the room to get dim for a couple seconds until he turned it back on. We laughed some more until the interviewer was done and ready to ask another question.