A rustle from the fabric, a tender whisper of wrapped things and there’s a trapped foot, something is scraping, alignment, composure, then fingers and a hand. An image being focused. An arm holding the cell phone and the framing is being decided. Two men seated on a scruffy bed. One of them, wearing a short sleeved blue t-shirt, a laptop over his legs covered by the blanket, his fingers strumming the keyboard, the monitor light reflecting in his glasses. The second man is making the little homemade video, out of the blankets, near the first man, shoulder touching shoulder. Smiling, provocative, childish, happy. He scratches his face with his fingernails. He’s also wearing glasses. He is dressed with a pair of comfortable pants and nothing else, his torso and arm tattoos at plain sight. The colours emerging from that impersonal environment. The room is minimal, colourless. Plain walls, white pillows.
“What are you doing, Chazy?” Mike asks, still looking at the monitor.
“A movie” Chester answers, whimsical.
“Be careful with those movies… with us.”
“They can be misinterpreted.”
“Are you afraid, Shinoda?”
“No, I’m not afraid. It’s you who doesn’t like insinuations.”
“Neither do you, baby.”
“Hum… We are alone in a room and in a bed. You can’t complain later.”
“Everything is under control.”
“What are you going to do with that movie?”
“I will keep it so I can remember.”
“Remember the tour?”
“No. Remember that I love you.”
Mike turns his neck. They are face to face. Nose to nose. Almost touching each other. Eyes half shut. Calm respiration. Both of them are serious.
A deep analysis in a split second.
“Go away” Mike says, returning to his computer. “You have bad breath.”
Chester laughs heavily, throwing his head back.
A finger is overshadowing the image.
End of recording.
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