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Pov. Dave Grohl

I woke up because of loud crying and sobbing, mixed with a few random guitar sounds. I knew who it was.

I stood up and walked over to the room next to me. He had to stop the noises or we'll might get kicked out of the hotel.

Praying that he would open the door I knocked: "Kurt?Kurty...!" Silence.

Suddenly a few sounds, the door opened and my best friend stood infront of me. His eyes were red and puffy, his lips chapped and his beautiful hear tousled.

He looked very distressed and at the same time sad, I took a step towards him to hug him. "What is wrong?' I asked, the blonde had stopped crying.

His head rested at my shoulder. "I don't known, just to much, just sad..-" he whispered, I looked at him and asked :" what? to much of what?" "Everything.. just the shit with nirvana and the fans.." he said, still in my arms

. What does he mean? Nirvana and the fans are our life, he has to love it! "What's wrong with the band?" I asked worried, he continued :" just everything is too much... I never wanted this.. too heavy.."

I said :"Okay, I know what you mean." Even though I didn't know, he grinned :"No you don't."

I smiled also, he was okay, wasn't he?

"I got to go now, Kurty. Just call if you need me." I told him while stepping to the front door.

"yeah, alright." I heard, before I stepped outside. I looked over my shoulder for a moment-


Now I could see his room, and the couch, pills and pulver all over it.

I stared at Kurt, shocked, before I started talking :" What is that? How much? What the hell, what I see there is way too much!"

My voice was a mix of anger and pure fear. Afraid to lose my best friend.

He did not answer, "Kurt, you're crazy, you're totally wrong in your head, you can not take so many drugs, just because you're sad for some idiotic reasons... so many fucking drugs!"

I almost shouted at him now He seemed very confused and frightened. I shouted: " I hate you!"

Of cours, that wasn't true, I simply hated that he took drugs. He looked down,

Had I really hurt him? I don't think so, he is still high anyway. The anger came back:

"So how much?" Again he did not answer the question. Suddenly an idea came into my mind, a terrible thought:

"You didn't take too much, did you?"


I knew it couldn't possibly be, he wouldn't be able to talk like that if my thought was true.

I was still freaking out. Just in case.

"Kurt, you did not overdose, right?!" I shouted and cried at the same time, he hugged me :" No. No overdose." I heard him say.

I could have simply hugged him back and next night he would be crying again and I would help him again.

Like tonight. Like last night, like the night before yesterdays night.

But no. I pushed him away from me :" You once were my best friend! Now your just a depressed, dumb junkie!!"

With these words I left him alone, going back to my room.

I am so sorry.

I'm going to call him tomorrow and say that I was drunk or something like that.

That should work, right?

the next day --

Yawn. What time is it?

I looked at the little alarm clock beside my bed: almost 11 am! I wanted to get up at 7 am to apologize to Kurty!

Quickly I jumped up and put on a red, black striped shirt and a simple jeans before I ran (barefoot!) Towards the room of my best friend.

My thoughts grew darker and darker. What if he thinks I really mean the things I said ? Will he ever forgive me? I arrived at the door. My heartbeat was as fast as never before, the door was open- why was the door open?

I rushed into the room, a glance into the bedroom, no one there, the bed looks normal. What now? Next room: living room. The door was locked. I felt tears in my eyes, why was the damn door locked ( inside your heart shaped box for weeks.. sorry) ? Is he in there?

What if he did something silly?

Would that be my fault? Now I really cried. With both fists I hit against the wood and yelled: "Kurt, please open the door!"

Nothing happened.

"Please .." I whispered and let myself slip down the door. It felt like my heart had stopped beating.

Everything is over. He had killed himself in there, and it is my fault because I was such an idot yesterday. Sobbing, I rolled on the floor with my arms still unsuccessfully pressed against the door.

It's not like in the movies. You can not 'punch doors open' so easily. The thoughts come back. it's all my fault. My fault My fault My fault My fault.

Krist will hate me.

The fans will hate me.

I hate myself. hate me. hate me.

Just as I wanted to give up the last hope of my best friend's life, I heard a little noise from the inside. A sob. Immediately I got up: "Open the door..." I said, my voice is nothing more than a whine. And then I heard one click and suddenly he stood infront of me. With red, puffy eyes, dirty hair, chapped lips and a cigarette pack in one hand

but alive.


Hey! Welcome to my new story! Again sorry for my bad english, I work on it :'D

Thanks to two lovely people ^^ check them out.




Bye <3


Pov: Dave Grohl

"So, do you have an idea for the second verse now..?" I asked, trying hard not to sound too angry.

He rolled his eyes and looked out of the window right into the garden:" Dave I am way too sober to deal with this today."

Now I did get angry. I didn't wanted to talk about the 'thing that happened last night' :" You can not just talk to me when you're high, I thought you like writing songs.. do you ever even think about how we are feeling?

Me and Krist are constantly worried about you!" I said stepping a bit closer to him. "I'm fine." he said, smiling a little, but not looking me into the eyes.

I didn't reply, of course he wasn't fine. It was pretty obvious. "I hate you" I said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

:"Nah you don't, you love me." He said jokingly and I had to bite my tonge to stop myself from telling him just how right he was.

"I'm glad you are getting better." I said, he turned around and now really looked at me :"Yes man, I am gettin better.. but I'm still not feeling that well, you know?

I'm sorry for not writing songs at the moment." What? "Kurt did you just.. say sorry for something? Are you high again?!" I said jokingly. My best friend smiled, then answered "No, just happy."

He is happy. I am happy because he is happy.

"I am happy when you are happy." Shit! Did I say that out loud?! I blushed. "HAHA thanks dude, that's kinda cute." Kurt laughed, hugging me. That felt good.


My bedsheet felt warm around my body.

I was worried and I didn't knew why. Is he really happy? Or is he just playing a show?

He was always good at that. Last year we didn't realised until he was so depressed he wanted to jump out of the window.

I had to talk him out of that. I never want to do that again. I was scared I won't notice if he'll be getting sadder again.

I am scared. Would he even tell me if he feels down? He should. I'm his best friend. Still thinking I tried to sleep, I couldn't.

All I had in my mind was Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. I wouldn't know what to do without him, I'd be lost and I'd habe nobody to talk to.

I mean, there is Krist of course, but we don't really talk about.. serious things. I should talk to him tomorrow.

With that thought, I finally fell asleep.


I stared at the ceiling, thinking and overthinking. Then I stood up, I had to do something other than just lying in my bed. Sighing, I slowly walked through my room and sat down at my little desk.

I grabbed a blank sheet of paper and just started writing, a melody and words that had been buzzing around my head for a long time.

When I finished I read the text again and I somehow could imagine the

whole thing good as a song. A song with my voice singing the lyrics.

I smiled but then shook my head. That was nonsense, I'm not writing songs.

Kurt writes the songs, right?

So I wanted to say good-bye to the lyrics but suddenly something popped into my head "Foo" I wrote with thick font letters on the back of the sheet, I had no idea why.

And because I had just liked to eat, I painted a few mentos.

Do not ask me. After this .. interruption, I could not sleep anymore.

foo. foo. foo.

My head was full of those words. The lyrics, or the poem which I had written was also still in my head. I started to sing, or rather mutter.

" He needs a quiet room.. with a lock to keep him in.. it's just a quiet room.. and he's there.. he plays an old guitar.. "

I stopped, what I did here was crazy and stupid:

kurt writes the songs, kurt writes the songs, I told myself over and over again, so that I endet up crumpling the paper and throwing it on the ground.

Thats gonna be a long night.


"Good morning buddy!" Krist smiled, while pouring the coffee.

"Morning." I replied, Krist asked me if I slept well and I just answered something like "yeah I slept okay."

I didn't to be honest, I was thinking about my song the whole time. "Do you know how Kurt is doing?" I asked, trying to sound happy. "Kurt? Why don't you ask him?" He didn't get it. "Krist, it's Kurt. He would always say he's fine." I said and my buddy nodded:

"I know what you mean, but what can we do? I think it seems like he's getting better!" Krist answered.

I burried my face in my hands.

Maybe he is getting better but I feel like there is something coming.

Something big.

Something dark.

Something that'll destroy our lives.

Something is coming.


I can feel it.



PoV. Krist Novoselic

Kurt Cobain is Kurt Cobain.

And that's the problem.

He is friendly, smart, good looking, funny, selfless, cute and totally depressed. Not that kind of depressed that you are when your best friend moves far away. Not that kind of depressed that you are when your dog dies. Not even that kind of depressed that you are when you get mobbed and abused by your parents or your classmates. No. Kurt Cobain is that kind of depressed that you can not cure by just saying "I'm going to call every evening." or "Your dog is in heaven now." or "I'm going to help you through it."

I wanted to help him. I really did, he was one of my best friends and he meant so much to me. But it didn't work.

I said: "Please Kurt, tell me what happened." I said: " I'm not going to tell anyone."

and: " How exactly do you feel like?" Nothing. He never talked to me about serious things. Never. He and Dave are so close, I'm starting to get jealous and I feel stupid for it.

"Krist!" Daves Voice brought me back to reality what I was kind of thankful for.

At least I got away from my dumb thoughts for a moment. "Yeah what's up buddy?" I asked, Dave replied with a: "I'm so worried about Kurt." again?

"Again? Yesterday you said the same thing, I'm starting to get tired of you being concerned about your boyfriend." Did I say that out loud?! Oh shit. Dave stared at me like I were some kind of alien. "What?!" His voice was high and sounded almost anxious, I felt so bad. "Look Dave, I'm sorry. Forget that." I wanted to hug him but the brown haired boy pushed me away. It seemed like he was really, really angry:

"Don't touch me, you idiot.We are not a couple.." He mumbled, wanting to turn away.

I know It'd be the best way to just let him go but I was totally looking for a fight to let out all my anger so I grabed him by his left wrist and tried pulled him back to me. "Then why are you acting like his boyfriend?!" I almost shouted, Dave yelled back, some assults. I didn't really hear them because of the sound of the door opening, loud and fast.

Kurt. "Oh." I said and Dave looked at Kurt like he'd be the problem what I think is a bit rude acording to the fact that I started with my dumb "acting like his boyfriend" thing.

"Guys, please don't fight because of me." I heared Kurts voice, it was quiet.

Now that I calmed down, it seemed to be Daves time to act like an idiot :" You don't even know why we are fighting so shut your mouth." He said. I glanced at Kurt who was looking shocked: " why are you saying this?"

He asked, sounding more broken than ever before.

Now I really did expect Dave saying something like I'm sorry or at least hugging it out..


He just rushed out of the room, leaving an ashamed me and an confused Kurt back there.

What a great day.


"Again, I'm really, really sorry. Don't take it personal, I litteraly just had a bad day." I said, trying to comfort Kurt. He looked on the ground :"Yea, it's okay."

He answered, not sounding okay though. " Dave was also just having a bad day." I continued. Kurt flinched at the sound of Daves name. "He is your best friend Kurt, best friends do get in fights someday. It's normal."

I smiled.

He didn't.

"Look, why don't you just go over to his room and talk to him? I'm sure he'll apoligize to you buddy." I suggested.

Unlike I had expected Kurt seemed to find the idea good.

At least, he left the house to see to dave right on that afternoon. I wish I would have know how the conversation went ... had dave apologized? Or was he still angry for some strange reasons? Have they talked yet? What would I give to know all this.

Tomorrow I would ask one of the two.


Pov. Dave Grohl

"Hey." I said. I felt like my mouth was completely dry. I couldn't even hear myself speak. Kurt looked up, I saw on his eyes that he cried. I felt so awful. "Dave."

was the only thing that came from him. "I'm sorry." Please forgive me. I smiled a little bit. He didn't. "Look, I was just mad at Krist. Yes we were fighting because of you, but it's not really your fault.

We were just being idiots and I am very sorry for what I said to you.." I tried hard not to sound to shy. "Krist is sorry too." I added, when after a while Kirt still hadn't answered. "It..- It's okay. I just.. feel a bit more depressed again.. so.. that was.. erm..-"

He looked like he was searching for a word: ".. that was pretty...-" Apparently, there was no word for whatever he wanted to say: "well, whatever.." he looked away "nevermind." I sighed.


The wind outside was getting louder and louder, the trees were thrown back and forth, and it almost scared me. We sat on the sofa and watched some boring TV show about missing dogs and cats and Kurt was (as always), complaining about everything.

While I was quite decently sitting there,

Kurt had grown wide, so I barely had room on the couch. Slightly annoyed I slipped closer to him, hoping that he would move away. Nope.

Instead of making room for me, he stayed exactly where he was, and now I laid half on him. Well, great, after that action, the evening would not only be boring but also awkward. Very awkward.


"What are you doing?" I murmured confused as I noticed that my "pillow" moved away from me. Kurt froze, he must have thought that I wouldn't wake up, "not important, sleepy."

And with that he was gone.

I shrugged, maybe he'll be bringing something to eat or drink.

After almost a half hour I called his name and got no answer. I felt queasy and I stood up sleepily: "Kurt?" I yelled through the whole house:

"Kurt, if you are here somewhere, I hate you you idiot and I am hungry!"

No Answer. I slowly grew alert. And so my thoughts slowly came back too: That was not just one of my buddy's , that was Kurt Cobain and I knew he was doing something dumb (what is the case in most of the things he does).

I searched in every room. I got scared.

Really scared.


After I looked in the livingroom, the kitchen and his bedroom I wanted to check the bathroom. I went upstares and headed to the bath. Maybe he is just having a shower? I ried to comfort myself. It didn't work. My thoughts were 50/50.

The left side of my brain was like:" Please be in there Kurt." while the other side was just thinking "Oh god please don't be in there doing something incredible stupid like the last time I found you in your Bathroom and you were lying on the floor, almost..-

I tried to forget the right side's thought.


The door was locked. Just like last time.

The fucking door was locked.

Why would he lock the door?

I knocked and knocked and knocked..

I slid down the wood. What a d骡 vu...

Nobody opened this time.



Pov Kurt Cobain (YEAH FINALLY?)

It is awful.

The drug thing is awful, it destroyes me.

It kills a part of me and makes me to someone I never wanted to be. I hava no idea why anyone would still like me.

Dave and Krist just pretend to still want to be friends with me, I'm sure. They just don't want the Band to break up.

I hate Krist and Dave, they are assholes, I try to tell me. It's hard. I love them.

I love Dave.

Dave doesn't love you, you bastard, shut your mouth. One thing thats a bit easier to tell myself is that I hate myself. Because it's true. I don't even know why I still exist.


It seems that Dave is asleep. He sleeps all the time. I don't sleep,

can't rememver the last time I really slept for more then a half hour.

I can't sleep because I am thinking all the time.

A long time ago I loved thinking.

That's how all of Nirvanas lyrics were made, with just thinking and thinking and thinking.

But back then I was thinking good stuff, nodays my brain is literally full of "Death, Drugs, Anxiety, Hate, Drugs, Anxiety, Hate, Drugs, Anxiety, Hate, Death." And it always comes back to death, always.

Every single time.

"Maybe I should die, maybe thats my destiny." I stood up, not really knowing what I wanted to do. I just want to get away from Dave, He'll think I'm a creep. He thinks that already

"What are you doing?" I heard his voice out of sudden behind me. Shit. "Not Important, sleepy" I said, almost praying he won't hear it. He did. But he didn't reply so I thought he'd be fallen asleep again.

I sighed. Dave never has to worry about things, I feel like I'm the only one making a big deal out of everything. And that's stupid because I am the one who isn't special at all. Same thing woth Nirvana,

Okay I sing, I play the guitar.. but Krist and Dave are so much better at- "better at everything." I mumbled to myself walking out of the room. Eventually I then realized what I needed.


I was disgusted by myself, I am all the time I do drugs but this night it was extremely hard to even look in the mirror walking in the bathroom because I looked like shit.

I'll never find a girlfriend, I'm so ugly.

Or boyfiend I added to my thought trying to reach the "medicine" I wanted to take a lot this night, not to much but a lot, just that these thought go away. I did it all to fast and to sloppy and when I heard someone banging at the door I was already to wasted to even open.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, doing something between sobbing and singing with my head in my hands. I don't know when but at some point It just stopped, I couldn't sing anymore. It felt like my whole voice, my whole me was dead.

Too weak.


Wanna sleep.


I don't know if I cried through the whole night. I know I did at the beginning but eventually all my tears were wasted after a few hours of sobbing.

By the way, Dave realizing that I was not really dead was the adorablest thing I've ever seem in my entire existence.

He was still knocking on the door when I suddenly felt a bit better and could get myself to open it and I just kinda fell into his arms. I think I fell asleep right in that place.


"Kurt Cobain... don't you ever scare me like that again.." Dave said hugging me. I just woke up, he must've waited the entire night through right next to me.

He looked like shit and like he'd have been crying. I felt so sorry, It was my fault that he cried.

"Were you trying to..-" He stopped talking because he started crying again. I looked on the floor. What a pretty floor. Were you trying to kill yourself? "I wasn't.." I still didn't look in his eyes. That was to hard.

I couldn't see him like that: " I just felt so empty and sad, I wanted to take a bit but not so much.. I didn't think.. I- I'm sorry.." And I'm lying.

I wanted to take really much. Maybe it's true that I didn't had the intension to take my life but...- really?! If I'd died who would care?

Dave still looked shocked, :"I think you need help Kurt." he whispered.


"I think you need to shut up." I replied.

My best friend looked at me and

for the first time in my life I realized what he thought. Other times you could never see what he was thinking but now...

I finally got myself to look into his eyes. Beautiful eyes.

I looked into these beautiful eyes.

Blue met brown.

And I knew what he was thinkin, he was thinking:

" I'm glad you are alive."

And then he smiled.

And I smiled.

Abd for a few seconds... only a few, everything seemed perfect and alright.

For a few seconds I didn't feel like I was depressed and helpless. I really felt like there was help for me. And the name of that help was Dave, again he said the thing he already said a few minutes ago:

"I really think you need help Kurt."

Very slow, I came a bit closer to him, he embraced me and I realized that it maybe wasn't perfect but it would get better.

I was sure.

"Yeah I think I do" I rested my head on his shoulder.

"You idiot."

He laughed.


Pov. Dave Grohl

The next morning I had to tell Krist

about what happened to Kurt. So I just knocked on his door, he opened. I told him eyerithing that happened last night and yes; just like I expected he totally paniced.

First he blamed himself because he started the fight, then he blamed me because of something I can't remember

but he never blamed Kurt through the whole talk. He seemed so angry I was literally scared that he'd kill me right there out of pure anger and frustration.

He calmed a bit down but now it seemed like he'd be in this "just- pretend -it's- all- okay-even -though -it's- not" phase.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked slowly, Krist smiled a bit confused before answering: "what do you mean?" He knows what I mean, he is just trying to deny it. "Buddy, you know what I mean.."

I tried again but he still looked at me obviously not ready to answer anything. I sighted: "A break. He needs help Krist, thats not just

him being sad, that's depression.

He needs a therapy." Krist continued on staring at me but now I could see that he was also about to cry.


I spend the rest of the day with doing nothing but thinking about how to tell Kurt that we needed a band-break. I could imagine him being like "breakup?!" I sighed.

Not a break up, just a break.

I was sad the whole day through and it was kinda ironic, because actually he's the more negative one of us two.

I am going to get depressed because he is depressed, that doesnt make any sence right?

Later I came to the clue that it did made sence.

You get sad when your friend is and you get depressed when your best friend is.


Later that day I wanted to visit Kurt. Saying hey, talking about the band (not the break yet, I was way too scared of ehat he might react like) and yes, maybe also looking for him to see if he's still alright.

Still alive.

"Kurty!" I shouted, the blonde turned his head to me and grinned a bit. His beautiful eyes met mine.


If I were gay, I would kiss him right now.

He smiled at me and his lips looked like the fucking definition of beauty.

I'm not gay.

"hi Davey." he interrupted my strange thoughts.

I had to laugh "Davey?" I asked, jokingly because he never used any nicknames before.

He shrugged

"Well, you call me Kurty all the time..so I just thought..." He seemed really offended and sad. Not good.

"Hey, calm down. That was just a joke."

I said. I was worried he'd be getting a panic attack but he had already calmed himself down.

I stepped a bit closer to him, his expresion chanced into a staring right through me but not really looking at me,

avoiding eyecontect.

Suddenly I remembered why I wanted to talk to him in first place. I prepared myself and started: "How are you?"

I asked and prayed he would not answer with a "I'm fine and woah that's really nice weather today" thing because it

was obvious that he was not fine and i hated smalltalk more than anything else because it's just so stupid.

He looked at the floor and breathed in before he answered with a low voice, like he'd be afraid anyone else could hear it: "I can't do it anymore, all the pressure, i hate it, i hate myself, it feels like

everything is against me, nothing makes me happy anymore, not the band, not the fans, not even singing for myself...

I'm thinking too much about bad things... " he paused for a short time and looked like he'd be thinking if he

should really list the bad things. He chose not to and continued: "I feel like my own thoughts want to convince myself that I am useless and worthless, ugly and .."

He stoped and sobbed in the middle of the sentence and "broke down". I was there immediately, so he could cry in my arms.

I smiled.

Yup, I think that's what you call friendship.



?Trigger warning - past selfharm?

Pov. Kurt Cobain

It was the first time I had to go to the therapist in ages. I felt physically sick and my headache was so bad I felt like shit. I really think if there wasn't one of my friends to kick my ass

I would have never gone to one. That "ass-kicking-friend" was actually Dave Grohl. I had to smile only thinking about him.

He is perfect. So much better looking than me, sweet, humble, openminded and bighearted. The opposite to me, pathetic, ugly, dumb and talentless.

He saved my life. More than once. And I know that if I throw my life away, I'd not be the one to miss it. He would miss it.

He would miss me and he would cry. Dave never cries. I don't want to make him cry for me.

So I went to that therapist.


The door opend wide and a few seconds later Dave stood in front of me. He grinned and highfived me like this would be some sort of "happy-partying-with-friends". It wasn't. "Hi" I said trying hard not to sound scared but apparently it didn't work, the boy with the ponytail looked worried:"Are you okay?"

I'm not. "I am." I answered. He raised an eyebrow: "Hm.. you don't have to be scared of the therapist Kurt. He only wants to help you to get better, alright?" I don't want to get better. I thought.

I'm not sick.


"Good morning mister Cobain." The man sitting on the couch next next to me said, he looked friendly. Was that my therapist? "Morning." I smiled back.

" So I heard you need help, and I really do want to help you getting through whatever it is." I looked on the floor. "Can you explain what exactly is wrong?" He asked. I felt uncomfortable as fuck.

There's nothing wrong with me. Nothing. I'm not sick.

"I don't know, maybe depression or something like that." I said because I wanted to say something, anything so that this man thought I would understand a bit about those things.

"Ah! Good ol' case of depressed junkie!"

He laughed and suddenly the sofa we were sitting on didn't feel comfortable at all anymore. Why don't I say something back? Being sassy never was a problem for me. I always snap at people I hate. But this was different. I didn't hate this man, I was afraid of him.


I stumbled out of the praxis. Although my therapist never hurt me physically it felt like I had been tortured for all of the ninety minutes I had to sit on that old, dirty couch. I felt even worse that before this, and the only thing I

could think of was the old, mean man who talked to me the whole time.

He made fun of me and did a strange game where he touched around my hand and wrist to feel if I had scars there. He was asking me "Do you selfharm?" And I said, what is true: "Not anymore." But the stupid doctor didn't believe me and so he ended up "searching" my whole armes up.

How stupid. I was clean but hey, the time that

I cut myself, I did it on my legs. I had luck and so he didn't saw the old scars either. But not only that time, the man was strange although the session.

Everything about him was unsympathetic. I really wouldn't have wanted him to see my old scars.

I'll never go there again. I thought and then added a: And I'll never cut again.


" Kurt!" Dave yelled sounding as happy as never before while hugging me. Krist was directly behind him. They seemed to positive.

I don't want to ruin this with telling them how much of an asshole my therapist is. "How was it? Not that bad, right?" Krist asked, his eyes shimmered. I answered "yeah, It was okay I guess." And forced myself to a smile. Fake smiles aren't hard to do.

After a few kind of awkward minutes Krist left, still seeming happy. He told us he wanted to go practicing some bass things. Even Dave was surprised. He hadn't done that in months. Since I started with drugs.

"We are so proud of you, Kurty." Dave whispered as soon as our fried had left the room,

he hugged me again but this time it wasn't a "bro-hug", this time it was a thight, loving embrace and I think he'd have never stopped if it wasn't for me having to sneeze. Wow. I'm always destroying the cool moments.

I smiled again, looking into Daves beautiful eyes.

This time it wasn't a fake smile.

Hey you cute human beings out there <3

Lol that's actually the first chapter in a while that I'm kinda satisfied with.

I hope you liked it to and if so, leave a comment. That always brightens my days that I spend with having an 24/7 existential crisis. At least it feels like this. Well, I'm not going to die from it :'D What doesn't kill us makes us ... erm...

Well whatever nevermind.


Btw. I got my mum into Nirvana and she is in love with all apologies what I think is kinda cool :'D


Just kidding, love y'all?

Eight (I guess?!)

Pov Dave Grohl


all I could see in his beautiful blue eyes was pain and self-hate. I knew as well as he did not go better after the visit to the psychologist, but he decided not to go there - I agreed.

It was a nice evening with purple clouds and an orange sun. We sat on the roof, a little above the balcony. From there you could see all of Seattle, and all of that what was behind it (so it seemed to me at least). With "we" I mean me and my two best friends and bandmembers: Krist and Kurt. Krist ate some chocolate biscuits while Kurt was playing around on his gittare,

which he had brought with him on the roof. I just sat there watching the two of them. "Let us play truth or dare!"I heard Krist call. I nodded and also heard Kurt mumble something like "Okay, let's do that"

We slipped a little closer together and I felt like a sandwich in the middle of the two. "Who starts?" I asked to say something and break the awkward silence.

"Krist. Because he asked to play." Kurt said. Krist nodded and then looked back and forth between us. He seemed, for some reason, to decide for me: "Truth or dear?" he asked, and I answered without thinking "Truth" Krist nodded. I heard Kurt laugh beside me and said, "Spoilsport, Truth is boring." I

ignored him skillfully. Then Krist seemed to have an idea: "So, Dave ... Have you ever written a song?"

I had to laugh: "No." I grinned before I thought about the text of

a few nights ago: "Well, maybe, one." I finished. Krist seemed to be okay with this answer,

Kurt said to me, "Davey, you have to write a song on our next album!" I hope that this was a joke.

"Alright alright, Babe do you want Truth or dare?" I asked jokingly. He laughed, not saying something about the babe thing: "Truth." He said "Booooring,"

Krist cried behind us. "Okay ..." I thought, "How do you think your Grandchildren are going to describe you later?" I had read this question somewhere and it came to me deeply so I wanted to ask it. "I do not think I'll have grandchildren, I'd rather die young, you know who gets old gets a bald head." He winked. Krist laughed nervously, visibly confused by what Kurt had said. I didn't laugh at all.

"Well, it's my turn so .. Krist, truth or dare?" Krist thought before he yelled "Truth!" We all laughed "What's the nicest thing about me?" Kurt asked grinning :" You're a good friend. Really good friend, I hope you do not die early even if you want. "He chuckeled:" Was that too romantic? "I and Kurt laughed and the blonde embraced Krist:" Just really sweet. "


We played quite a long time, I will not talk about everything because most things were boring or unimportant. Until the one round where we had to take all the dare because otherwise nobody else did. "Dave, kiss Kurt." I heard Krist say. I would have liked to kill him at this moment. but well game is game.

The blonde leaned over to me, I looked directly into his blue eyes.

Pretty beautiful eyes. "Come here, I will not bite you." he said, smiling. I went red and moved closer. Our lips met. I closed my eyes. Not kidding, it was not even with tongue and still the most beautiful kiss I ever had. "Err people, I do not like to interrupt you but this is getting to get strange." I heard Krist say. Immediately we both stopped back, and looked, "I ship it." (AN: SORRY BUT KRIST IS SO ADORABLE I HAD TO)


Eventually the game was over after some time and I was on my way back home when I heard someone behind me. It was Kurt: "Heeeey Davey Buddyyy!" I stopped and smiled at him: "Whats wrong?" He grinned: "Nothing is wrong. And that's what I want to tell you. I saw how you reacted when I said this whole 'die young' thing. I'm sorry. And nope I won't kill myself.At least not now." He ended. I hoped what he said was true: " Haha alright Kurty. Just don't join that club." I said, he looked at me confused but also interrested : "Club?" I frowned:" Never heard of Club 27?" He shook his head "Well it's just.. a lot of great people killed themselves at the age of twentyseven. That's all." I explained, Kurt nodded and laughed "Don't worry. If I wanted to join this stupid Club I would have to die this year, and I won't. Too many cool things this year!" I grinned and we said goodbye to each other. That was a cool day. Kurt seemed okay, not depressed at all.

I hope he isn't just lying to us.


Pov Kurt Cobain

I woke up at midnight. Why? Are you asking.

I don't know why. I have no idea. Maybe because of my head.

It's working almost all the time, to be honest all the time.

And yep, normally that'd be okay but I feel like my thoughts are the saddest, most disgusting and scary things in the world.

I am not okay with them.

I'm really not okay with them.

I don't want to think that. It just happens. I lie there, relaxing in my bed, listening to some music over my headphones and doing nothing and out of all sudden these thoughts pop in my head not asking me if I fucking want them. They are most likely to be about things I worry about.

Like my parents.

My fans.

My friends.

Other people that I love or care about a lot.


I am worried that my parents could die.

That my fans could stop liking our sound.

That my friends could stop caring about me.

That I could stop caring about myself.

And sadly I get the feeling that one of them is true already. The sentence starting with "me"


"Davey boy!" I yelled and my best friend turned around; his brown hair in a ponytail as always. "What's up?"

He asked and I answered with a "nothing. Just wanting to look what you are doing." Realizing that sounded strange I added a "cause I was bored." Nope

He didn't answer. The sound of silence was annoying. I felt empty. I always feel. I am just good at hiding it.

Then Dave finally replied:

"Hey.. are you okay? Is something wrong?" He looked a bit worried, but mostly tired. Why? "Why?"

He laughed, still looking worried as fuck. "You look like a ghost. Sick. Do you feel sick?"

I don't feel sick.

I just hate those thought.

I'm not sick.


Dave forced me to go to bed, saying I looked to ill to even go outside of my room. Great friend.

I feel a need to do something. But what?

Yay. Nothing to do. Staring at the ceiling all day long. I love my life.

I hate my life.

Maybe I want to have fun.

What actually is wrong with me? I should be writing on a new song or a melodie for the next cd!

Maybe I want to play a gig.

The fans are waiting and I'm doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself!

Feeling myself getting angry I grabbed the paper that was near to me lying on the floor. I opened it and wanted to start writing as something caught my eyes.

Maybe I want to do something with my friends.

"FOO" I frowned and read along "HE NEEDS A QUIET ROOM WITH A LOCK TO KEEP HIM IN ITS JUST A QUIET ROOM AND HE IS THERE... HE PLAYS AN OLD GUITAR..-" I stopped. Was that a songlyrics. I looked closer.

I knew that writing.

Maybe I want to do something with my friends, echoed in my head.

No way.

What the actual fuck.

That's Daves writing.

That. Is. Daves. Writing.

My best friends writing.

I thought the only thing that I was better at than him was writing songs... and now he does that too?"

I want to do something.

Frustrated I ripped the sheet of paper apart.

I hadn't even noticed that I started crying, I just suddenly felt salty warm tears running down my skin and making their way to the ground.

I want something. I need it. What is is?

I am so pathetic.

My head was hurting, just like every other part of my body. I felt like shit. I thought I was geting better.

Is it therapy?

I was fucking sure this time. I started sobbing, trying hard not to be to loud. I really didn't want Dave

or Krist to hear me, they were so happy, I can't make them find me here, crying my eyes out as if something serious would have happened. Nothing happened. I am a wreck. I am the thing that happened.

Is it drugs?

Nobody needs me.

They would have it better without me.

Sobbing like a little child I tried to stand up.

I realisised what I wanted:

I wanted to die.

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