A/N: Hey guys! I've been productive recently and wrote another one-shot for you! It was inspired by LPTV episode of making of Victimized when Chester was sick. This one-shot can be treated like both romance and bromance. That's all from me, hope you enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just a work of fiction.
***
It was late at night. 2:34am exactly. The air was hot, even sticky, and everything around them was quiet. The weather wasn't horrible either. One could say the windless night made everything more peaceful.
He yawned as his best friend delivered the last scream of the song they've been working on for a few hours so far. They both were tired. The other guys left long ago, after finishing recording their own parts, and they were alone at the moment.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked as soon as the singer walked out of the booth and sat down next to him, his hands rubbing his temples.
"I think my brain's about to explode." he mumbled with a shaky exhale and Mike immediately looked at him.
Chester was very sick today but even that didn't stop him from working. He came to record his part of the song, and did a very good job. The emcee admired in him his strength and commitment to this band. There simply was no force to beat Chester down. He was a warrior, a fighter. He never gave up.
"Do you want some painkillers?" he quietly asked. His friend heavily sighed and, for the first time since he arrived in the studio, took off his black sunglasses. The view that spread in front of Mike made him concerned, for Chester's eyes were red and swollen, there were dark circles around them and his face looked tired. Exhausted, even. He must not have had a good rest for days.
"I just wanna go home." he whispered and had looked at the white ceiling before he closed his eyes. "I don't feel good." he croaked and the rapper frowned, turning around in his swivel chair to take a better look at the other vocalist.
"You definitely don't look good. You're so white like you're about to pass out any minute. Maybe we should finish for tonight?"
"No, the guys will be mad." Chester protested automatically, his pride taking over for a second.
"I'm sure they won't, come on." Mike stood up, and patted his friend's back firmly. "You've done your best tonight, you deserve a good rest."
They looked at each other in silence. It was kind of soothing, and Chester sent his friend a weak smile. The black-haired man answered with the same.
"I'll drive you home, alright?" Mike offered and watched Chester slowly stand up with a sniff.
"That's very kind but you really don't have to. I can drive on my own. It's not like I'm dying or something."
"Ches, no way. You know I won't let you sit behind the wheel in this state. I'm driving."
"But--"
"No buts. You're sick as a dog." Mike insisted and folded his arms across his chest, sending Chester one of his stern glares everyone always hated. There is no other option, we're doing it my way, it said. There wasn't any discussion on that. The vocalist knew it all too well. And he couldn't stand it.
So he simply nodded and they both gathered their things. Chester was cold. He was exhausted and everything hurt him terribly much. This pain wasn't even to describe. It felt as if something sharp was tearing his body apart, a deadly invisible force.
They left their studio, the silence of the night greeted them and warm breeze ruffled their hair, making the vocalist shiver. The sky was black and clear, the stars were shining so bright. Full moon was prowling.
