One Less Chair

Max was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because he was sixteen, in high school, and that was something he'd left behind a long time ago. But the memory made him happy, even if a little confused, because he was pretty sure the recording studio Xero worked with was not located on the second floor of his high school's main building.

He finished his last class of the day and made his way upstairs and into the studio. As he walked in, the lead singer was storming out, leaving behind a slew of homophobic slurs. Max watched him go, confused, and turned to the rest of the band - but only Brad, Rob and Mike were there.

"We're having auditions today, Maxy," Mike said with a grin. "You should try it out. You've got a pretty good voice."

Max shook his head. "No thank you." The thought of performing on a stage for people made his stomach turn. Mike shrugged and picked up a clipboard Max hadn't noticed before.

"First is Chester Bennington." Young Chester stepped into the room and Max's heart filled with joy. He auditioned for them, a beautiful and moving song that almost brought Max to tears, and then he left the room. The band members looked between each other, then shrugged. "Next!" Mike called.

Max woke with a start, jumping up in the bed. Mike was snoring quietly next to him, sprawled out on his back. He no longer woke up at the slightest movement; it had been a long time since Max nearly thrashed out of bed last.

Max smiled at his husband and stood, stretching before pulling on a fresh shirt and going to check on the kids. Otis was sound asleep, but when Max peeked his head into Teddy's room to check on him the boy sat up and rubbed at his eyes, yawning. Max smiled fondly at the sight.

"C'mon kiddo, let's make breakfast for your brother and your dad." He stood and followed Max to the kitchen, and Max let him mix the pancake batter as he made eggs and bacon. Otis joined them shortly after, and Mike made his way into the kitchen at a zombie-like crawl after they had already finished, enticed by the smell of food. Max gave him a quick peck and began cleaning up, his thoughts on the weird dream he'd had not an hour earlier.

As Mike attempted to corral his sons into eating breakfast, Max turned to him, eating his scrambled eggs quickly and leaving the dish next to the sink.

"Is it alright if I leave for a bit?" Mike looked up at him, clearly confused on where he needed to be that early. Max shrugged. "I had a dream about Chester and it made me want to go see him." Mike chuckled.

"You can't just call him?"

Max shrugged. "It's been a few days since we saw him last. I just want to drop by, maybe invite him to the house." Mike shrugged.

"I'm sure I can get these guys to put something you cooked in their mouths." Max smiled and pecked his lips, then kissed the foreheads of the two boys.

"Be good!" They called their goodbyes to him and he grabbed the keys for his car, a little beat up used car he'd fallen in love with. Mike had almost demanded that he get a new car, but after seeing the little red hatchback in the lot across from the tiny pro-bono clinic where he worked, he'd decided he wouldn't have any other vehicle. After a while, Mike had given in.

Max slid into the drivers seat of his little Honda, affectionately named Pedro, and began the trek to Chester's home. He'd forgotten about Linkin Park's new CD in his car's CD slot until it started blaring through his speakers. Max sheepishly turned it down and began quietly singing along to the final track on the album, pulling up to Chester's house as it ended. Talinda's car was missing from the driveway, and Max wondered vaguely when she'd be back from visiting her parents with the kids.

He stepped out of his car and made his way up to the front door, flicking through his keys for the one that opened Chester's door. Talinda had given it to him before one of her trips to visit her family so that he could water her plants and never asked for it back. That was probably a good thing, too, because Max had to go through all his keys quite a few times to find the one that actually worked for her doors.

Max wasn't entirely sure when he'd gotten so many keys, but Mike was increasingly paranoid after he returned home from the tour for A Thousand Suns. He changed the locks frequently, and some doors had different locks than others, so there were always about four or five keys on Max's key ring at one time. He didn't complain about it though - after all the things he put Mike through in such a little amount of time, he understood Mike's fear that something would happen again. Max had bad luck.

He found the right key and slid it into the lock, opening the big door with ease. Eerie quiet met his ears and he stepped inside, glancing around for Chester but not finding him. He called Chester's name, but heard nothing in return.

Max crept through the halls of what felt like his second home. It was erroneously empty; he hadn't ever seen it this quiet. The silence was creepy, almost like a horror film. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He called out again, but there was no response. He was kind of glad he didn't bring the kids, they'd probably be terrified. He checked in the kitchen, but it looked like it hadn't been used in a couple days. No dishes in the sink, not even a salt shaker out of place.

Max lifted an eyebrow and moved further into the house, making his way upstairs. Silence. Maybe he was still sleeping? The door to his room was open.

Max entered the room and immediately froze.

*

*

*

What happened next was almost a blur. Max thought he heard screaming as he fumbled with his phone, dropping it onto the grey and brown carpet twice in a row. As he struggled to tap out three very simple numbers he came to the realization that the screaming was his own voice. Panic bubbled within him as he heard the phone ring, the calm operator asking him what his emergency was. How could she be calm? Didn't she already know what he was seeing in front of him?

"Is he breathing?"

Did the screaming stop? Max couldn't tell.

"Can you get him down?"

God, he was always so much taller than Max was.

"Emergency responders are on their way."

The screaming definitely had not stopped.

"Please stay on the line with me until first responders get there."

A stool. Max needed a stool.

"I'll walk you through CPR."

It won't help.

"Max? Stay with me."

Another call trying to come through. His stupid nickname for Mike glaring at him from his phone as if accusing him of not having his priorities straight.

"They're a minute away, stay with me dear."

Wailing. Why hadn't he come sooner?

Somewhere, distantly, he could hear Chester's phone ringing. Who was it?

Knocking. A door being kicked in. Feet trampling up the stairs.

"I'm going to hang up now."

Gentle hands guiding him outside. His phone's still on the floor.

"What time did you get here son?"

What time did he get here? He didn't even remember what time he left home.

"Was he still alive when you found him?"

If he was, would Max have called 911 first?

"Why'd you come here so early?"

All Max knew was that from the moment he woke up, he felt like something was wrong.

"May we search your phone?"

Max didn't care. He didn't care.

"The kid's in shock. Get him a blanket."

A black body bag. Max broke down in tears.

"What's your name, kid?"

He needed his phone. He needed to call someone. Anyone.

"Here, his location app places him at home not five minutes before the call."

Who did he call first? Another sob wracked his body.

"Do you have anyone you can call to pick you up?"

*

*

*

Max staggered in through the door of his home, walking almost as if he were drunk. His sister closed the door behind him, taking his shoulder and leading him to the kitchen table, sitting him down carefully.

"Max?" Mike called, walking down the hallway toward them. Max closed his eyes tightly, not ready for this conversation. "Did you see those new deodorant sticks I bought? I was gonna pack them but I can't find them." He turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Max and Amalia in his kitchen. His gaze flicked between the two of them. "What's going on?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Amalia said, mouth set in a hard line. "My mom picked me up and dropped me off at Chester's so I could drive Max home in his car."

"Why couldn't he drive?" Mike asked. Amalia shrugged and Mike squatted down in front of Max, taking his hands gently. "Max?"

Max's bottom lip quivered and he burst into tears, which quickly escalated into sobs. Mike pulled him into a hug quickly, sharing an alarmed look with Amalia, who just gave him a confused shrug. "Max, my love, what's wrong?"

In between sobs, Max managed to say, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't save him." He repeated it three times before Mike stood him at arms length to look him in the eye.

"What happened, Max?" His voice was hard, disbelieving. Max met his gaze and sputtered out his response.

"H-he h-h-h-hung h-hims-s-self."

Silence pierced the kitchen, ringing in Max's ears like a bell. Mike crumpled into the seat he had just picked Max out of. Within seconds, Amalia had taken Max's phone and was calling Talinda, a shocked expression on her face. She slipped outside to speak to her as Max stood in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing his eyes like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"You're sure?" Mike whispered. Max nodded, tears streaming down his cheek. "This isn't a funny joke, Max."

Another sob forced its way out of Max's throat. "I'm not kidding," he nearly whimpered.

"Please stop," Mike said, voice barely audible. "He's not... he's not dead. He isn't..."

Max pushed the tears from his eyes and watched as tears streamed down his husband's face. He looked outside to see Amalia pacing, crying as she furiously dialed number after number. He could only be thankful that she had been trained to handle tragedies. He wouldn't be able to deliver the news so quickly, but better that family and friends do it than tabloids.

He could hear the boys playing in Otis' room. Pain wracked his very core. They'd have to explain to them that they wouldn't be able to see Uncle Chaz anymore. He wasn't even sure how to approach that subject.

He quickly washed his face off in the sink of the kitchen, trying to pull himself together. He wanted to keep crying. He wanted to scream and yell and destroy things. It wasn't right. It didn't make sense. But there was no way he could do that. Not with Mike, and the kids, and everyone else who needed him.

He stepped outside and took his phone from his sister. He would finish the calls. He needed her to help Mike right now. She nodded, not needing an explanation, and stepped inside, placing a chair in front of Mike so she could speak to him quietly. Max turned to his phone. He didn't know what time it was, but it felt like an eternity. He glanced through all of the recent calls - Amalia had already called Talinda, his mother and Rob - and began going down the line, deciding who to call first based on who was in the band, and who Talinda would've already called.

He knew as soon as he woke up that something was wrong. He should've just gone straight to Chester. He might have been able to save him...