Confession

Expectations

"Alright, Shinoda," Brad started as he opened the door, "we've all had enough of your bullshit." He stopped short, Dave colliding into his back, as the sight of Mike and Chester holding hands came into view. He almost felt bad for interrupting what was clearly a moment between the two. "Well... okay. This is an improvement," he finished lamely, waving a hand toward the pair on the couch.

Neither Mike nor Chester smiled or even looked at the rest of the band. "We're... talking through some stuff," Mike said tightly, his voice sounding ready to break.

"Oh, good," Joe breezed, settling in on the floor next to the couch and looking up at Mike. "What are we talking about?"

The scowl on Mike's face could have shredded the bark off of trees. "It doesn't really involve you, Hahn."

"Oh, I disagree," Rob said as he shut the door behind him and Dave. "It involves us all, now, Mike. Ever since you stopped being able to hold your own life together, it involves us all."

"Yeah, we're gonna fix this shit. Tonight," Brad added, flopping down into a chair, his features fixed into a mask of serious determination.

"Tonight? Seriously? They're going to kick us out of the venue," Mike said desperately.

"Whatever, man, we're Linkin Park. They're not gonna do anything," Dave smirked, knowing it was true. They'd stayed several hours past the end of sets before, and nobody had ever kicked them out of a venue. He wasn't worried, and neither was anyone else. He settled into another chair, crossing his ankle over his knee.

"Don't you guys want to get showers?" Mike tried again.

"Stop, Mike. Let's just do this now," Chester said softly, squeezing Mike's fingers.

Dropping down on the other side of Mike, Rob stretched his long legs away from the couch and continued to rub his forearms. "Yes, we're going to deal with this now, Mike. You obviously have no idea what you're doing and all of the rest of us are ready for you to grow some balls and deal with things."

Groaning, Mike collapsed back onto the couch, covering his eyes with his free hand.

"Stop being so dramatic, damn, Mike! You're always the one that has your shit together. I think you just can't stand being the one of us that needs help. Finally," Dave commented astutely.

He was absolutely right. Mike was the problem solver, the driven, determined perfectionist. He'd spent countless hours building Linkin Park, building his marriage, building his public image. For the first time ever, everything was so far out of his control, and at the moment he was so confused about how he'd gotten in the mess he was in that he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "fine."

"That's a good Shinoda," Brad said with a hint of humor in his voice. "Now... let's get down to business before they kick us out." He rolled his eyes and continued, "have you guys made up?"

Chester looked at Mike, whose head was still thrown back on the cushion, and answered for them both, "I'm not super happy with him right now, but yeah. We're going to be okay."

"Okay, like, Mike can remember his fucking lines again?" Joe asked from the floor, where he was picking at his shoelaces.

"I can remember my fucking lines," Mike grumbled from under his arm.

"Uh-huh," Dave said suspiciously at the same time Joe clapped his hands together and said, "okay, then, we're done!"

Everyone looked at Joe, who frowned and questioned, "what? We're not finished? Augh," he exhaled as he fell back on the rug and closed his eyes. "I'm tired."