“Am I going to do this song by myself,” Kurt swiveled around in his chair, his acoustic guitar now serving as an armrest. His blue eyes were in thought, contrasting to his outfit, a carefree ensemble of a green cardigan, a white band tee, ripped jeans, and converse. But it all looked good, despite the semi-formal setting. It always looked good.
“And how good would it look,” my brain asked me perversely, “on your bedroom floor?” What?! Where did that come from? I shifted uncomfortably in my stool behind the drum kit. It wasn’t the first time I had thought things like this about my band mate/best friend, and by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be the last. I couldn’t help but agree with my mind, though; Kurt was pretty attractive. His blue eyes drew you in like bait while his mouth moved with such fluidity when he was talking that it would be hard to restrain from kissing him. Not to mention the golden hair…
Wait, what? I wasn’t gay, and I definitely was not in love with Kurt Cobain. Not even a little. But why, then, was he making me feel this way? Why was I getting aroused just by looking at him? “It’s probably just from lack of sex,” I reassured myself…or, it was supposed to be reassuring.
“Are you going to not sing,” I asked the other guitarist, Pat, taking my mind off of Kurt. Pat shrugged as I turned to look back at Kurt. “Yeah, do it by yourself.”
Kurt turned back to our audience, to my relief and disappointment. Chords from the guitar in his lap resonated throughout the room as I got up from my seat. Pat followed me as I went to the side of the stage to watch Kurt’s solo performance. Krist, our bassist, just sat where he was, not noticing that Pat and I were gone. I leaned against the wall as Kurt started to sing in his beautiful --er--pretty --er…good voice. His eyes were downcast, observing what he was doing. I felt my cheeks heat up as my eyes passed over his moving lips. I lingered over his mouth before I quickly averted my vision.
“Don’t deny it,” that nasty voice said in my head. “I agree, it might not be love, but face it, you lust the pants off of him.”
I wasn’t sure if anyone saw, but I raised my eyebrow at myself, making me look like an idiot.
“I don’t love his pants,” I thought back, my eyes slipping down to his “area” and quickly back up. If my voice were a real person, it probably would have face palmed itself.
“No, you idiot! YOU WANNA FUCK KURT DONALD COBAIN INTO YOUR MATTRESS!”
My eyes widened as my voice shouted the last sentence into my ear. I even subconsciously looked around to see if anyone had heard. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks, making them warm. My eyes were glued to Kurt, who was oblivious to me. Staring at Kurt, I realized that my voice was right. Well, not in suck blatant words, but it had the general idea. But I couldn’t tell just anyone, could I?
Totally Serious Plan Time
It’s not exactly how the movies depict falling in love with your best friend. Well, I wasn’t sure if it was even love. But either way, do not believe the cinema, kids. It’s a lie. But it also makes for great attention getters, so I’m not complaining.
Anyway, falling in love/ lust with Kurt Cobain (well, the realization part) was a total pain to my ass. Ever since we played Unplugged in New York, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kurt…how funny he is, how sweet he is, how nice it would be to just kiss him as time seemingly stops…
Whoa. I seriously need help. One night, I’m only thinking about how [mildly] attractive Kurt was, and the next, I’m fantasizing (I coughed at the thought, making Kurt jump from surprise) about kissing him under the stars. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you alright,” a voice penetrated my thought bubble, causing me to look up from my snare drum at Krist, who towered over me. Krist’s eyes were narrowed, looking either constipated or suspicious, his hair dangling dangerously over me. That boy needs to learn how not to be creepy. “You’re acting a little funky.”
I had two options; one being pull Krist aside and tell him what I had been thinking for the past few days, and two being insisting that I was fine, just a little tired. Both were perfectly reasonable choices, as Krist wasn’t homophobic, but most likely, not even he would want to listen to me. But Krist was a good guy (although some screws were loose, but that was true for all of us), the “father figure” of the band, if you will. He would understand (even if he didn’t feel this way about Kurt, he had to have felt it about someone).
“Ah…I’m alright, I guess…but could I talk to you after rehearsal,” I asked, glancing at Kurt, who’s back was towards me. Krist cocked his eyebrow at me, muttering a “sure” before walking back to his bass guitar affectionately named Nellie.
Hardly a word was spoken after my encounter with Krist, making the atmosphere tense. Kurt was normally the talker of the group, but today, he sat quiet, strumming his guitar. Krist was the only one attempting conversation, although Kurt and I didn’t really feel like obliging. Suddenly, Kurt stood up, taking his guitar off and rubbing his eyes.
“I’m gonna go,” he declared, shuffling towards the door of Krist’s basement (which doubled as the oh-so extravagant rock studio). All I could do was watch him and sigh; he had been doing this a lot lately. Krist paid Kurt no attention as he grabbed a chair and dragged it in front of my drum kit, sitting in it.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
It was only a simple question, but it weighed on me like a large boulder. I bit my lip, searching for what to say. It seemed a little trivial to just say “I’m gay.” Krist looked at me intently, trying to figure out what I was going to say before I said it. After a few seconds of Krist staring at me and me staring at him, I decided to give up and say,
“I think I’m gay with a crush on Kurt.”
Krist continued to stare at me, but his stare turned from a “what are you going to do” stare to a “you’re retarded” stare. I nervously looked anywhere but at him, anticipating his reaction.
“And,” Krist asked, raising his eyebrow at me. I couldn’t help but feel irritated that Krist didn’t get why this was embarrassing for me, and humiliated because after I had announced my feelings, I felt so much stupider.
“And,” I hissed back, not able to bite back the irritation, “I don’t know what to do about it or how to deal with it.”
“Do I look like a homo to you?”
Okay, this was a waste of my time. I stood up angrily, and hastily stepped from behind my stool to walk towards the door, but Krist grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m joking.”
I sat back down, my anger cooling off. Krist let go of my arm, but never took his eyes off of my face.
“Anyway, are you going to tell him?”
I could feel my face pale; I hadn’t thought about that. I had been so wrapped up in my own denial that I didn’t stop and think about whether I was even going to tell Kurt. Amazingly, though, I found myself snorting and sarcastically remarking,
“Yeah, I’ll tell him. I’m going to go up to my married, male best friend and say ‘I think you’re hot’. Yeah, and I’m also freaking Axl Rose, are you kidding me?”
A corner of Krist’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. He shrugged (again. If he does that one more time, I’m going to have to hurt him), replying in a matter-of-fact tone,
“Hey, you never know, it might work.”
A second of complete silence passed before I burst out laughing. I don’t know why it was so funny; it just was. Krist joined my in laughter, his deep, chesty laugh clashing with my creepy, high pitched one. The laugh fest continued for a minute, then died out as we regained control.
“No, really, it probably would work,” Krist restarted as I calmed down. “Telling him how you feel would really be good for you, and who knows, he might like you too.”
I sputtered at that last part.
“But he’s married!”
Krist shrugged again, and I smacked him, telling him to stop shrugging. After laughing at me, he continued,
“Courtney Love would turn ANYONE gay.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, even though Kurt’s wife was supposedly my friend. I didn’t doubt that Courtney could turn guys gay almost as soon as they met her; if there was one person that I wish I didn’t introduce to Kurt, it was Courtney Love. Considering the fact that she was his wife, I didn’t really feel that bad about telling him how I felt anymore. If he would marry her, he could go with me on one measly pity date.
“I think I’ll tell him,” I stood up, stretching my back out. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“That’s my boy,” Krist remarked teasingly, causing me to smack him again. I laughed as I walked out of the basement in a good mood with good intentions, shutting the door behind me. Meanwhile, still in the basement, Krist muttered to himself,
“I hope he knows what he’s doing. Courtney won’t be a happy camper if she finds out.”
I woke up the next morning already pumped with adrenaline; this was the day. This was the day that I tell Kurt how I feel about him once and for all, after weeks of torture and agony. I was wearing essence of stupidity as a cologne, and nothing could stop me.
Except for the fact that I still needed to talk to him alone. That was already a budding problem, as Courtney would be hard to separate from Kurt. I frowned as I stepped into the shower, shaking my head. ‘Think happy thoughts, Dave, think happy thoughts.’
I let the water wash over me as I ran shampoo coated fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help but think ‘What am I going to say when I do get him alone? What if I can’t say anything? I’m gonna choke when it really counts.’ I winced as I massaged my scalp, trying to wash my hair and also forget about Kurt for at least five minutes. I hurry up and wash the rest of me before stepping out of the shower to face the day (and also to get dressed).
After I hastily threw on an outfit, I sat down on the couch to watch T.V. and clear my mind. I flipped through the channels, not really watching anything, but suddenly, I stopped on Jerry Springer, not because I liked the show, but because I had an idea. Putting the T.V. remote down, I leaned forward and took my cell phone out of my pocket. I stared at it, turning it over in my hands. I could call Kurt…maybe ask him to come around…or meet him somewhere. I glanced over the big, bulky phone that could possibly change my life. I shook my head and put it back into my pocket. Or not.
I attempted to pay attention to Jerry Springer, which at that moment showed two girls bitch fighting over a guy. How predictable…but then again, that could be unknowingly me and Courtney fighting over Kurt. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. I have to get this Kurt business settled out, or it would turn into a very big problem. I pulled my phone back out, hesitating. Should I call him? What’s the worst that could happen on the phone? He could hang up on me and never speak to me again unless it’s for Nirvana, but that’s about it. A small price to pay. Should I take the risk? I took a deep breath and turned the phone on, carefully punching in the numbers that held my fate, or something deep and prophetic like that.
I held my breath as the phone rang without an answer. Maybe he was busy? Doing what, I didn’t know; it was a Saturday, after all. Suddenly, unpleasant images entered my brain of a certain Kurt and Courtney, and I did my best to shut them out. I doubt they were doing that this early in the morning. He was probably asleep or something.
“Hello,” A gruff, annoyed voice sounded on the edge of the phone. My voice caught in my throat, so I cleared my throat very loudly. What was wrong with me? This was my best friend I was talking to, not a hot girl. But my best friend was a hot guy…SHUT UP BRAIN.
“Hi,” I said weakly, hoping that Kurt wouldn’t bite my head off for disturbing him. Kurt wasn’t the happiest person when he was disturbed from his sleep. I of all people (besides Krist and Pat) should know this…now I regretted calling.
“Hey,” Kurt’s tone brightened tenfold right after I had greeted him. “How are you, man?”
I was taken aback by his sudden mood change, but I didn’t let that stop me from smiling until my face almost split. A second of silence passed as I regrouped my brain to think of something smart to say.
“I’m alright,” I reply, starting off slowly. “Um…I kind of have something to tell you…”
“Okay, but hold on, Courtney’s calling for something,” Kurt said back as my heart pounded double time. I was actually going to do it! I was going to tell Kurt Cobain how I felt and hope to God that he wouldn’t hate me for it. Now that I think about it, I don’t think he would; he always said he wanted to be gay so he could piss people off. I held my breath as Kurt talked to Courtney, waiting for him to be done with her so I could tell him the thing that had been harboring my mind for weeks now.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry,” Kurt came back to the phone after about 20 seconds “I gotta go, Courtney wants to drag me somewhere. Tell me later, ok?”
Everything I was about to say just kind of fell out of my mouth in a gush of air with no words in it. I was more than annoyed that Courtney had to come into the picture and ruin everything I was about to tell Kurt. It was the right timing, the right setting, and she goes and trashes it. Thanks, Courtney. Really, thanks.
“Alright,” I say back, containing my fury for his wife and keeping my voice calm. “Talk to you sometime.”
“Bye,” Kurt said apologetically as I heard the phone disconnect. I hung up and threw the phone down on the couch, irritated that I couldn’t get this done and over with.
Chapter 4: Public Meeting
Okay, so the phone conversation was a total epic fail. I was still in a bad mood even hours later when Kurt called me back, apologizing for having to leave. Of course, I couldn’t stay mad at him, but I was still perturbed that I hadn’t told him already. The timing wasn’t right now.
“So, um, maybe if you aren’t too mad at me,” Kurt started, getting straight to his point. “Maybe we could meet and then you tell me?”
I was surprised, but also really happy. A second chance, offered to me on a silver platter by a gorgeous waiter named Kurt. I made myself hungry just thinking about it like that.
“Mmk, how about we get something to eat? I’m starving.”
“Alright, sounds good,” I could feel Kurt smiling on the other end of the phone. “Talk to you later, man. Bye.”
I hung up and sat on the couch in a daze, taking the time to soak in what just happened. I stared blankly at the TV, looking empty, but inside, there was so much more going on. I was happy Kurt decided to meet me, sad that he might not want to be friends with me anymore, scared to tell him in the first place, and fed up that he couldn’t tell that I lusted after him (I refused to say I loved him. I had no idea why, love just didn‘t feel like the real word for it) in the first place so I wouldn’t have to tell him. Sooner or later, I got tired of watching the wall, so I got up to get my keys and drive over to where we were meeting.
I drove in complete silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio. Maybe I was nervous about everything just about now. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that I thought my knuckles would bust through the skin covering them. I turned up into the diner’s driveway, already seeing Kurt’s old car in its usual parking space (tells you how much he’s here). I park the car and take the keys out of the ignition, savoring the moment before I would have to get out of the car. I gulped, opening the car door, and step out.
Slappy’s Diner wasn’t that new of a place; it was actually a very old building that seemed to tower over the strip it was a part of. Its yellow paint was peeling off of its walls, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the building collapsed any day now. I slowly approached the wooden double doors, hesitating to open it and face my best friend. With a loud creaking noise and the ring of a small bell, I pulled the heavy door open, entering the diner.
“Well, hello, welcome to Slappy’s, my name is Muriel, I’ll be taking care of you this evening…” a plump waitress walked up to me, reciting the mantra that all the employees greet customers with. The woman looked to be in her 60s, with short, curly, badly dyed red hair and wrinkles all over her face. She wore the Slappy’s yellow polo Tshirt, polished off with the tacky brass nametag, paired with white slacks. She was a fashion disaster waiting to happen, I kid you not.
“Someone’s waiting for me,” I cut her off, looking past her to see Kurt in his familiar green cardigan and messy, dirty, blonde hair. I didn’t mean to be rude, but if you had to be somewhere, and you were nervous out of your wits, wouldn’t you rather just be where you’re supposed to and not make small talk with people in your way.
“Okay, just go through and join your party,” Muriel looked up at me, the scary fake smile burning through my eyes. I looked away from her, and walked through the wooden archway to join Kurt, and I thought I heard her mutter “jackass” under her breath.
I barely even reached the table before Kurt lowered his menu, grinned at me, and near shouted “Hey!” at me. I stared at him, taking in his beautiful smile and eyes. Courtney Love was a lucky bitch. I will probably say this over nine thousand times, but it was the truth, and she didn’t deserve him. I nervously took a seat, my eyes shifting from vintage poster covered wall to vintage poster covered wall.
Kurt lifted his eyebrow at me as his smile faltered, but said nothing as another, younger waitress came to our table.
“Okay, now that we’re all here,” she started, her smile much more natural than Muriel’s. Her short, red hair was kept back by a small black headband, a pen tucked behind her ear. Her glasses were pushed up high on her nose, small diamonds glittering from the ends. I didn’t have to really look up to see her, as she was short (as most of the employees at Slappy’s were), but I thought vaguely that if I was straight, I’d ask her out. Shut up, brain, I swear, you’ll get smacked. I am straight…I think. I’m just a little confused.
“Yeah right, and I’m my own separate person making all of this up. Maybe I look like that waitress you’re checking out right now,” my head voice returned, pestering me again. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
“Are you alright?” I heard two voices ask me at the same time. I opened my eyes to see the waitress and Kurt staring intently (the waitress not so much) at me. “Do you need some water, sir,” the waitress added.
“I’m fine, thank you, but I would like a diet Coke,” I replied, shaking off my voice and the headache it was causing me. She looked at me concerned a second longer, but scribbled the order down, and turned to Kurt.
“And for you?”
Kurt thought for a moment, looking out the window next to our table, and back at her. I could have sworn right there that I heard the waitress gulp and look down at her pad, embarrassed.
“Do you have pennyroyal tea?”
“Some of that please.”
The waitress jotted down the order and turned to leave, but quickly turned back to us and said,
“If you need anything, my name is Mia, and I’m…er…already your waitress.”
She shuffled off in a hurry, probably because of Kurt. He was always doing that here, even though he’s oblivious to it. I was kind of jealous. If I could charm the ladies like that…
“You wouldn’t care,” my voice intervened, cutting me off yet again. “You’d want to charm Kurt and only Kurt, you filthy liar, so pull your head out of your own ass and admit it to yourself.”
I grit my teeth, telling my voice to shut up or I will shut it up for it. It subsided after a final smirk (I could just see the smirk on its dirty little face…if it had one), leaving me to talk to Kurt in peace.
You sure you’re ok, Dave?” Kurt asked, looking into my eyes, as if looking into my mind, making me very uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Silence overtook us as we sat waiting for our drinks. I stared down at the table, thinking of what I was going to say. Should I say it blatantly? No, I can just see the look of utter disturbance on Kurt’s face. And, if I said it blatantly, I would say,
“I want you in my bed.”
Yeah, I don’t think that would win too many points with too many people, especially if they have the same genitalia as you, and even more so if they’re your best friend. Or should I go with a more subtle approach? No because if I tried that, Kurt wouldn’t get the message. He just didn’t work well with subtle. What was I supposed to do, just sit here and let my mind devour me as Kurt looks out the window and continues to be oblivious!? I wouldn’t be able to handle that!
“There you are, sirs,” Mia called, coming back with our drinks and setting them down on the table. “Are you ready to order?”
“Nothing for me,” Kurt said right off the bat. I thought it was a good decision too, seeing as I didn’t want him to choke after I told him my good-or-bad news. Mia turned to me, her pen and pad in hand.
“Nothing for me as well.” I wasn’t hungry, and the thought of telling Kurt how I felt while I was eating just seemed unappealing. Mia nodded and shuffled off to tend to other tables. I was a little sad that she had to go because that meant that I would have to tell him sooner. I watched intently as he reached for his pennyroyal tea, stirring the straw around in it. The air was tense, each of us wanting to say something but deciding not to. We sat, saying nothing, and staring down at the table. Soon enough, I couldn’t take the pregnant silence.
“Kurt, I have a confession to make.”
Kurt jumped, surprised at my sudden proclamation. His blue eyes stared into mine in curiosity, and he sat up, setting his cup down, all ears. I suddenly found it very hard to speak; my voice had caught in my throat. More silence ensued as I pulled myself together, but right as I was about to confess what I had been feeling for weeks on end, his cell phone rang. He looked down, leaning to get his phone out of his pocket.
“Hello,” his voice sounded airy, as if he was irritated. I vaguely wondered if it was my doing. I could barely hear nasally chattering on the other side of the conversation, and I could feel my irritation meter rising. Courtney was yet ruining another one of my chances to finally end my own agony.
“Yeah…yeah, I’ll be there,” Kurt told Courtney hastily as he hung up on her. He looked at me apologetically, getting up from his seat.
“I’m sorry, Dave,” Kurt told me, standing up. “Courtney needs me at home right now. Maybe you can tell me later, yeah?”
I said nothing; I merely nodded at his proposal as he left to go tend to his wife. To be quite honest, I’ve never felt so much anger and irritation towards any one person before. I leaned forward, my elbows on the table, my hands in my hair as I tried to calm down. I heard the shuffling of feet over to me as I heard Mia’s voice.
“Are you alright, sir? Could I get you anything else?”
I looked up at her, sick and tired of all of this.
“Just bring me the check.”
"Oh my God, just tell him!"
“I can’t believe it! Every time I try to tell Kurt once and for all, she has to ruin it,” I ranted to Krist after Kurt had gone home early again. Krist looked lazily at me; this had been the over 9000th time (or, at least, it felt like it) that I had ranted about Kurt or Courtney to him. “I’m so tired of this!”
“If you’re so tired of it,” Krist suggested, looking down at his fingernails boredly, “Why don’t you just TELL HIM ALREADY?!”
I wouldn’t hear of it; I had tried again and again to tell him, and I’ll be sooner damned than I would tell him at the wrong time. I stayed quiet, knowing that anything I said could and would be used against me at a later time. Krist sat on the stool he had been practicing on, waiting, daring me to say something.
“I can’t,” I said weakly, biting my lip. “It’s not the right time.”
Krist rolled his eyes and shifted in his chair, focusing back on me.
“Why not?! Why wait and tear yourself up about it when it could have been over with weeks ago?! What, for a special moment that won‘t come?! You‘d be lucky to even get a moment where you could.”
I stood silent as Krist basically broke down my excuse at not telling him and make me feel ridiculously stupid. I looked down at the floor, knowing Krist was right, but damn it all if I’d let him know I knew.
“It’s not a matter of luck, it’s just a matter of time.”
Krist threw his hands up in the air, obviously fed up with my attempts to make myself sound the least bit smarter.
“OH MY GOD, JUST TELL HIM! I’m sick and tired of your bullshit, and if you don’t tell Kurt that you love him tomorrow, I will myself, and trust me, I won’t make it easy on you.”
I was stunned, to put it quite simply. Krist was normally a gentle person, but the words were spoken with such aggravation; I didn’t know that I had bothered him that much with my problems.
“Fine,” I found myself retaliating, heading for the door. “I will tell him tomorrow!”
I walked out of the basement before I could hear Krist shout any more behind me.
The next day I found myself frozen to my drum stool, nervously staring at Kurt and then back at my bass drum. I had seemed so confident yesterday…where was all of that? Gone with my mind? Most likely. Kurt didn’t pay any attention to me; he was just staring off into space, most likely thinking of either his daughter or reflecting upon his life. Or maybe how he just wanted some macaroni and cheese. You never knew with him.
I had never been so nervous in all the twenty-three years I’d been alive on this planet. What if he rejected me? What if he never talked to me again? He would have left Nirvana, and I would have been at fault. I would have ruined the band, and millions of people would hate me for it. I could almost feel the weight of the hatred on my heart; but I couldn’t be afraid. Life was like a box of chocolates, people always said. My life, however, seemed like a box of active grenades.
“Earth to Dave! Houston, we have a problem,” Kurt suddenly started saying to me, snapping me out of my thoughts (which people seem to be doing a lot lately…maybe I should attempt to stop thinking). I shook my head, looking at Kurt, who was waving his hand wildly in front of my face.
“You can stop trying to fly now, Kurt, you can learn later,” I smartly remarked, making Kurt smack me playfully upside the head. I stuck my tongue out at him, which he returned with an adorable pout. I was suddenly finding it very hard to restrain from just tackling him and planting my lips against his. Okay, focus, self, you’re losing it. But he was so gorgeous…SHUT UP.
“I’m going to go check on something upstairs,” Krist intervened, standing up from his stool and setting Nellie down next to it. He stretched, his hands almost reaching the low ceiling of the dingy basement. Swinging his hands back to his sides, he headed for the stairs to the kitchen above us. But before he could go, he turned his head towards me, and said slyly,
“Now would be a good time to tell him!”
I didn’t know what I was going to do first after I was brutally rejected; find Krist and strangle him, or…find Krist and strangle him. It was the only option open for discussion, and I bet I could pull it off beautifully. My cheeks felt like stove top coils implanted onto my face, and I bet they were as red, too. Kurt turned to me, a questioning look on his face.
“Tell me…oh! What you were going to tell me on the phone and at the restaurant?”
I’d hoped he wouldn’t remember. Of all the things Kurt Cobain had forgotten, he had to have remembered this. I looked around desperately for something to lie about, but Krist had said he’d do it himself if I didn’t. And with Krist, you don’t know what he’s going to say and what he’s not going to say.
I looked back at the stairs, hoping that the tall bassist wasn’t going to pretend to be upstairs when he was really just hiding and watching us. I sighed, looking down at the floor, defeated. It was now or facing the wrath of Krist Novoselic later.
“I-I’m…” I started out slowly to prevent my voice from cracking, and Kurt looked at me, extremely intrigued. I stopped to regroup and keep from completely ruining the moment by running off. But now, all I had to do was finish the sentence, and then see what happens. I was what? Pregnant? “I’m gay…”
I didn’t even get to finish before Kurt interrupted me.
“That’s it? Well, I suppose not everyone takes this the same…who’s the lucky guy?”
“That’s the thing,” I pointed out, finally meeting Kurt’s eyes. My heart stopped as I choked out. “He’s you.” I sighed, feeling all the weight that had built up on me for the past month just disappear. Kurt stood shocked, possibly horrified. We grew dead silent to the point that we faintly heard Krist’s footsteps above us. Kurt didn’t say anything; he just stood still, taking in what I had just said. I bit my lip, anticipating the wrath of an angry five-foot-eight grunge singer/guitarist. Kurt said nothing to me, but instead, turned to go to the stairs of the basement.
“I-I don’t know…I have to go,” Kurt said hesitantly, heading up the stairs to go to the kitchen, and leave me to wallow in my guilt. I thought telling him would be right…Krist had told me it would. But why did it make me want to cry? My stomach felt like it was going to fall out my butt, and there was a lump in my throat that felt like I had dry swallowed a large pill. Why did it have to be this way? Tears stung at my eyes as I sunk back into my drum stool, but I blinked them away. So Kurt didn’t like me, so what? It was stupid to cry about something like that. My heart was aching just like that song Achy Breaky Heart*.
Krist came back down to the basement shortly after Kurt had made his hasty exit to see me leaning on my bass drum, my head on my hand. I knew it was him from the way he jumped down the stairs and the way he just loomed over you right before he was going to talk to you. Apparently, he still hasn’t gotten the note to not be creepy.
“You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy…it doesn’t work like that, Dave.”
All of a sudden, raging fire took place in my heart as Krist began to try to comfort me (also known as telling me how I fucked up and how I should have done it). It was his fault that Kurt left. I could have done just as well without telling him. Krist told me to tell Kurt, and look what happened. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all his fault, but I needed someone to blame for my actions right now.
“You told me it would help if I told him.”
Krist didn’t say a word after that; he just simply looked at me with sympathy in his eyes and guilt in his heart. I wasn’t sure what to think after this, but I was pretty sure that I had ruined it all for us, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if neither Kurt or Krist ever talked to me again.
I didn’t see Kurt for a couple days after my confession. I spent most of my time without him hesitating to call him and apologize or ridiculing myself for telling him in the first place. I knew that this wasn’t healthy; that I had to get over him and stop beating myself up, but the truth was, I didn’t know how. Every time I had tried to shove Kurt out of my mind, he just stayed and I found myself thinking about him more, if it was possible, and every time I actually succeeded in removing him from my thoughts, he just came back later. I was stuck in a glass case of emotions, and I wanted to get out.
I had woken up an hour ago, but I didn’t find the will to get up out of bed until now because why get out of bed when you’re just going to get tortured? I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that I had to get up sooner or later, but I didn’t want to. Eventually, after my mind kicking my ass, I finally got up to take a shower. I hastily washed up and got dressed even knowing I probably wouldn’t go anywhere today. I shuffled out of the bathroom and plopped down on the tacky brown couch in the living room to submerse myself in crappy daytime television in a vain attempt to forget about Kurt.
A couple of shows later, I heard the doorbell ring. I waited a second or two before hoisting myself up and trotting over to the door, thinking it was just a door-to-door businessman or my nosy next door neighbor, Mrs. Heinemann. I pulled the door slightly open to find Kurt on my doorstep, slouched over with his hands in his pockets. He glanced up to look at me, a soft smile on his face. The sun was placed just right behind him, making him radiate. I have got to stop using this flowery language to describe him, but I couldn’t help myself. He WAS beautiful enough.
“Hey,” he greeted me as I opened the door. “You busy?”
I considered my options; I could have said I was and turned him away because of the guilt I was harboring, or I could have said no and faced the music. I hesitated before finally answering,
“No, I’m not, come in,” and standing aside. Kurt sighed before setting foot into my foyer, then looked up and around like it would be the last time he saw my house. Silence sat in as Kurt made his way to my living room and sat on the couch where I had previously been. I shuffled over and sat down on the cushion next to him, anticipating what he was going to say, but looking at him, I wondered if he was going to say anything. He appeared to be in deep thought, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be the one to disturb him. Thirty seconds of silence passed by, but to me it felt like an hour. I couldn’t take it anymore; something had to be said or I would explode.
“So, whatcha here for,” I asked, breaking Kurt from his bubble of thoughts. Kurt looked dead at me, his eyes reflecting hesitation, fear. I vaguely wondered what shook him up so bad; Kurt normally never looked at me like that. He didn’t look at anybody like that.
It happened fast, almost too fast. First Kurt looked back down and bit his lip, and the next thing I knew, I was being almost roughly pushed back and kissed. Kurt found a resting place over my chest, and I was have worried that soon he would make contact with my heart, which was pounding so hard that I could have sworn it had gotten into a fistfight with my pearly white ribcage. I had half a mind to shove him off and ask him what the hell he was doing, but then I realized that it was exactly where I wanted to be for a long time. So why did I suddenly want to destroy it? Why did I feel so guilty?
I decided to let myself relax into the kiss, and even put something of my own into it. I caressed his lips with mine, flicking my tongue gently across his lips; a gentle motion, but the fact that I was doing it sent shocks up and down my spine. He was surprised at the sudden contact, but none the less, he opened his mouth a tiny bit more to let me kiss him deeper, harder.
Right at that moment, all my guilt melted away on that couch, leaving me feeling better than I had in a long time. I felt comfortable kissing Kurt, secure. It was (and still is) silly, but it was how I felt. After a while, we both began to run out of breath, so we broke apart, my head moving to rest on his shoulder. Neither of us said anything; I sat listening to Kurt breathe while he stared off into space.
“Kurt,” I said, breaking the silence. Kurt turned his head as toward me as possible, showing that he was paying attention. “Why did you kiss me?” Kurt stayed silent as he thought, turning his head back to the side to stare out the large window to our right. I sat still, my head still resting upon Kurt’s shoulder, silent as to allow him to think about his response.
“I…” Kurt started, trailing off as he looked at the blue sky. His tone was shaky, still uncertain and embarrassed. He swallowed; there really was no easy way, no escape button. “I didn’t know how else to tell you that I felt the same way as you did.”
I took my head off of Kurt’s shoulder and sat up, looking at him. I couldn’t do much else, much less say anything; what’s there to say when there are no words? Nothing, that’s what. Kurt looked back at me, more scared than I had ever seen him in all the time that I had known him. And I didn’t blame him. Not for one second. Silence made is presence clear again as neither of us said or did anything. But don’t think that this was a bad thing; it was comforting, like a huge weight was lifted between us, or that a huge wall was broken down.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence, and shifting so that I was leaning against the arm of the couch. “What now?”
“I don’t know,” Kurt replied, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “You would think that it would have been this huge thing, but I guess what was really scary was the anticipation.”
In my heart, I knew he was right, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to know I was scared, even though I was scared to death. It was a pride thing; you’ll understand eventually when you encounter a situation like this. I shook it off as we both basked in silence, glad that it was over, but still confused as what to do next.
Silence, silence, silence. There was too much of it; sometime, it had to get you. Suddenly, I got very nervous sitting next to Kurt, so I opened my mouth to say something profound…profoundly stupid.
“Hey, Kurt, do you think that horses would be able to sit like dogs?”
Even I was dumbfounded about how stupid I sounded. Kurt looked over at me like I had gone insane, and truth be told, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was. Well, I was in, I might as well finish.
“I mean, the way their hindquarters are shaped, you’d think that when they were tired, they’d just plop right down on their behinds and be done with it.”
More of that blasted silence. Well, I tried. But, soon enough, Kurt busted out laughing, in turn, allowing me to smile. He had such a beautiful laugh; it was a shame he didn’t do it much. Most of the time he leaned back and smiled, but now it was refreshing to know he could laugh.
“You’re insane,” Kurt managed to choke out, chuckling more at me. Normally I would play mock offended, but I just sat and smiled like the idiot I guess I am. Kurt looked into my eyes, grinned, and said, “And that’s why I love you.”
Although I had heard those words said to me hundreds of times, it still had a certain special ring to them that made my heart skip a beat. I guess love did that, the tricky bastard. I was left speechless after that, and not even my subconscious could save that. Kurt stared at me for half a minute, then got up off of the couch.
“I have to go,” he told me, stretching, his shirt raising up so I could see his stomach. “Frances is going to wake up soon, and I don’t think Courtney’s going to want to change her,” he finished, rolling his eyes. I laughed, but the mentioning of his wife made me cringe; I could be twice the wi-spouse she is. I’d at least raise a finger in helping take care of our daughter, Frances.
“Okay,” I finally say, getting up and walking with Kurt over to the door. God, he did look beautiful in my foyer, where the sun shone on his eyes and made them prettier tenfold. Why did he have to be married!? “I’ll see you sometime?”
“Sooner than you think,” Kurt answered, standing on his tiptoes to give me one last kiss on the lips, then looked down to turn the doorknob and leave the house. After I was sure the door shut, I couldn’t help myself; I let out a loud squeak as I brought a hand to my mouth.
But as happy as I was, I couldn’t help but feel like something bad was going to happen.
I hate to bring up the subject of the media again, but it was like your typical teen movie; the guy gets the…er…guy. But what was on Kurt’s and my mind was how we were going to keep this a secret from Courtney, the press, and the fans. Nirvana wasn’t exactly underground, so it would be chaos if news got out that Kurt Cobain and Dave Grohl were secretly dating. We wouldn’t be able to so much as stick our noses out of our doors forever.
Which is exactly why I’m heading out the door to meet Kurt at Slappy’s. Oh, how I contradict myself sometimes. But that’s what they call dating, even if you were doing it in secret; you have to go somewhere sometime. And I loved Kurt, so why not have a dinner or two with him?
Or so I tell myself. This is harder than it looks, secretly dating a married person who is your same gender. Don’t try it; it’s not nearly as glamorous and exciting as everyone thinks.
I open the car door and get into the driver’s seat, but I don’t make any means to start the car. This was wrong…I didn’t like Courtney, but it wasn’t fair that I was slowly stealing her husband away from her. And Frances…she was such a sweet kid; if Kurt leaves her, then Courtney would corrupt her, and who knows what she’d grow up to become. I should just call and cancel…
No. That would be cowardly; I started this, so I have to see it through to the end. I would never forgive myself if I did that. I hated myself at that moment; I always had to go and start something, go on a wild goose chase, and watch it crash and burn.
But maybe, this would be different. Wouldn’t that be something? The one love story that didn’t blow up in everybody’s faces like the kid who tried to make a chicken in his room. After sighing and closing my eyes once more, I started the car, and started to drive to my doom - er - date. I was exaggerating, as always, making things seem bigger than they really were. There were plenty of ways we could keep this under wraps, and it was not going to blow up in our faces. Kurt and I were smart, respectable men, we could think of something. I turned on the radio as I drove, not minding that it was our own song that was playing. In my moment of confidence, I looked onto the dashboard and realized that something was missing.
…Oh, crap! I forgot my wallet!
Soon enough, I had gotten everything settled; my wallet was in tact and in my pocket, and I had miraculously not run over any stop signs or little old ladies in my frenzy to get to Slappy’s; thanks to my little freak out I was late, so no points for me.
“Well,” Kurt laughed, spooning some macaroni and cheese into his mouth, and looking up at the ceiling in thought. “At least you’re here, right?”
I couldn’t help but agree; who knows what kind of disaster would have ensued if I hadn’t been here at all. Kurt was pretty mellow most of the time, but if you made him mad, it was like seeing a pregnant woman with chronic PMS and a husband who always screwed up. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
The rest of the date went smoothly, but I couldn’t shake the fact that something could be going very wrong right now. I looked behind me, only seeing a woman in a sunhat and sunglasses looking right back at me…totally not creepy. I looked back around at Kurt, who was looking me up and down curiously.
“Are you okay, Dave? You’re acting weird again…”
Normally, I would say nothing was wrong, but I felt that it would just make things worse if I lied to Kurt…he was my second half (as cheesy as it is to say); he’d understand…I think. I hoped.
“I dunno, I just keep getting the feeling like something bad is going to happen…you know. Between us.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, closing them. I could tell that he had been worrying about that too, but just chose not to show it. Oops. I instantly looked down at my half-full plate, hoping that I hadn’t put him off. I felt Kurt’s eyes on me again, and my heart instantly plummeted. I wished I hadn’t brought the subject up and waited for it to pass.
“Don’t worry so much, Dave, you’re going to turn your beautiful hair gray. Nothing bad‘s going to happen. I promise.”
It sounded so sincere when he said it. I almost got mad at him then; how could he be so sure, in a society that rejects you if you were any different from the guy next to you? How could he be so confident that nothing was going to happen to us? My heart almost broke. I can’t do this. I had to break up with him quick before anything decided to crash, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him like that. What am I thinking? I’m falling apart. He was right. I shouldn’t worry so much. But still, even walking out of the diner with him and seeing that old lady with the sunhat…something just felt really wrong.
Krist Novoselic: Mood Killer
Chapter Eight: Stay Away
Things went alright with Kurt for the next few days, but I won’t deny that the air was somewhat tense with him now that I had said that something bad might happen to us. Maybe that was the bad thing; me worrying about it. Maybe if I hadn’t, our relationship would still be in tact. Either that, or we just weren’t meant for each other in the first place. I loved Kurt, I really did. I could say it a hundred times, and it wouldn’t lose its meaning, but I don’t think the love I had for him would survive.
It started when I got home from the diner. I opened the door to an empty house (no shit, but I’m not in the mood for jokes), sighing before shutting it behind me. Home sweet home, dark as the night around it. I flipped on the foyer light so I could see my way to the kitchen, walking what felt like the road to ruin. Right when I got to the kitchen, though, something hit me. Not literally, though, but what I was about to do would make me wish something had. “Maybe I should check my answering machine,” I thought to myself, taking a Coke out of my fridge, closing the door, and walking over to the tiny white machine on the counter. One message. I pressed the button, hoping that it was only Krist telling me that he learned how to floss his nose (he often liked to call me with the weirdest things when he was drunk at night).
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Dave Grohl,” a nasally tone permeated the air, drifting through my ears to successfully and mercilessly grate on my nerves. “Or, I would, if you weren’t too much of a chicken shit to pick up the fucking phone.”
I snorted at the last comment. Courtney Love has had her way with many things, and she had a way with words. Really, I think she could win the Nobel Prize. Despite what my brain thought, my heart sank lower than it ever had, as if it were trying to win a limbo tournament. I suddenly knew why she had called, and I began to panic.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” Courtney’s prerecorded voice chastised me, “You’re fucking around with my husband, and I don’t take kindly to people stealing my fucking shit, alright!?”
That confused me. If she really loved Kurt like she insisted, why did she refer to him as “her fucking shit”? Did she actually regard him as property or something? I wouldn’t be surprised; I bet she’s still married to him for his money. If she wasn’t, she would have dropped him a long time ago.
“So, watch your fucking back, Grohl,” Courtney spat as I imagined her trademark sneer, her eyes burning into me. “Or you’ll be found in Lake Washington by 11:00 tomorrow night.” Click.
‘Well, Courtney,’ my brain retorted with a chuckle, ‘you’re going to have to learn some better pick up lines by then.’ I really didn’t get my brain sometimes; when it was playing it cool, my heart and my stomach were normally going “Shit, shit! We’re in the jungle now! We’re gonna die!” Like now, for instance. No messages, my answering machine chimed after Courtney’s message played.
Well, that was it. I was wrong; all of this was going to crash, and I was going to have to watch it smolder in the flames of skankpuppet. But it just seemed wrong, to sit in the backseat after I had waited so long for this relationship to start. It almost sounded criminal. It wasn’t fair to Kurt, either. I wasn’t going to just dump him because I was afraid of a psychotic airhead. I had to fight for it; and if it’s really right, and if we were lucky, I wouldn’t have to worry about Courtney at all.
As if by magic, the doorbell rang right after the machine had declared that no messages were left. I jumped at the sudden noise, sending my mind in a panic about who it could be and what to do, but it had seemed that my legs had already decided what to do, as they had started walking to the door, taking me with them. I had no choice put to turn the doorknob and therefore, answer the door.
“H-hi!” I exclaimed, a little too loudly even for myself. I couldn’t help it, knowing who it was standing on my doorstep.
“Hey,” Kurt’s steady voice floated through the winter air and through to my eardrums. I had only seen him about an hour ago, but I was still so happy to see him; knowing what would most likely happen, any time I spent with Kurt would be valuable. I allotted a few moments of silence to pass as I stood in the doorway of my house, just looking at Kurt standing outside in his cardigan and sweater along with ragged torn jeans. Even at 26, he still knew how to look like an awkward little kid, and it was just so adorable to see.
“So, uh,” Kurt began, coughing into the too-long sleeve of his sweater. “Are you going to let me in, or am I just going to have to stand out here in the freezing cold?
I blushed at the question; I had been so mesmerized by the sight of my boyfriend (is that what we were?) in the snow that I had forgotten to let him in the house. I swear that man will be the death of me. I could see it now; Kurt would be in the car with me looking extra handsome, and I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes on the road. It would be a disaster. ‘Note to self,’ I thought, ‘Let Kurt drive every time I’m with him.’
I finally had the brains to step aside to let Kurt shuffle into the house and take off his cardigan and sweater. Should I tell him about the message, possibly even let him listen? I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but closed it again. He didn’t need to know. I shuffled silently back to the kitchen and deleted the message.
“Do you remember what day it is, Dave?” Kurt asked me as I returned to the living room. It was Wednesday, but somehow, I knew that wasn’t the right answer. I had lost track of the number date, and the only thing I knew was that it was still February. I didn’t say anything, but went and sat on the couch next to Kurt, hearing the old springs groan under both our weight.
“Um…Wednesday?” I guessed even though the nagging at my heart told me that that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“Well, that too…” Kurt admitted, looking down at his fingernails. Now I felt really stupid; it was probably some really important day that I just magically forgot and then Kurt would hate me forever. “Dave, it’s my birthday.”
I told you. I looked at my calendar (which I hadn‘t paid attention to in weeks), and noticed that he was right. Wednesday, February 20th. How could I have forgotten? I looked over at Kurt to apologize profusely and beg his forgiveness, but he was smiling. Okay, from this point forward, Kurt Donald Cobain was insane. If someone, my boyfriend especially, forgot my birthday; I would tear their face off. But Kurt…Kurt was sitting there smiling. This makes me question the ways of which his mind works.
“And because it’s my birthday,” he continued, a smirk stretching across his lips. “You have to give me anything I want because I know you forgot and you must make up for it.”
Call me slow or something, but I barely had a clue of what he was telling me. I thought about asking him what he meant, but I didn’t want him to think I was stupid, so I just closed my mouth. Kurt inched closer, and magically, I finally got what he meant, and was too slow to stop the blush from stretching across my cheeks. I fought back the urge to lean back as my personal space was invaded, but I couldn’t help jumping as Kurt’s lips finally touched mine. Kurt leaned back, shock in his eyes. My heart pounded as I worried if I had hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry…I thought you wanted me to…” Kurt started saying remorsefully, but I shook my head.
“It’s not that. Really, it’s not. You just caught me off guard a little,” I said, trying to reassure him so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. To reinforce this, I leaned over and gave him a big kiss right on his lips, making him let out a startled [unmanly] yelp. He quickly recovered, and kissed back hard, and attempted to push me off so that he could top, but all he accomplished was sending us to the floor. Kurt resumed the kiss as we had broken apart from the shock of falling, throwing one arm around my waist, and the other grabbing at my hair tie (I had forgotten to take it out from rehearsal), pulling it out while I practically forced his lips apart, shoving my tongue in his mouth. It was all very rough, but for some strange reason, I loved it. I reveled in it; it turned me on so much. Both my hands ran down his chest, his sides, dipping into his jeans. Kurt shifted so he was straddling my hips, moaning into my mouth. Suddenly, without my permission, my arms pushed Kurt off of me, causing him to give me a look of utmost confusion. I didn’t give him an explanation (as I had none), but just flipped us both over so I was on top, and kissed him on his open mouth, down his neck. My hands slid up, under his shirt, my thumbs brushing against his nipples. Kurt grunted at my touch, and I grinned at that. I pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing the tiny body that he was so self conscious about.
He was so beautiful right then; the light hitting his pale skin just right, his lean muscles that looked so strong, yet seemed so fragile that if I even touched him, he would shatter. I stopped for a second, down on my hands and knees, just admiring him. It was in all seriousness a wonder that Kurt would want someone like me, a guy who’s tortured by his own mind every waking second of the day. I was grateful that he did want me, or else, I’d probably have been out of here a long time ago.
Yet, here I was, holding him in my arms, looking into his blue eyes. It was an amazing thing.
“OI!” A voice in my head interrupted. “Are you going to screw him or just write flowery poetry about him in your mind?” I sighed at the person working my brain. I couldn’t just have a moment to look at my boyfriend? According to my brain, I couldn’t.
“Are you alright, Dave? We can stop if you want…” Kurt looked up at me, his eyes harboring genuine concern. I shook my head.
“No, I’m good,” I answered, bringing my head back down to suck on the crook of his neck. “Just admiring how…”I licked his collar bone (yeah, I don’t know why either). “Absolutely hot you look under me.” Kurt smirked, leaning up to kiss me again.
“Don’t think that it’ll be that common of a sight, David Grohl,” He growled sexily, making me shiver (particularly in my pants). I grinned and kissed down his chest and stopping to make a slight lick at his stomach, causing Kurt to emit a girly yelp. Sometimes I thought that having Kurt for a boyfriend was just like having a girlfriend, but I didn’t mind.
Next thing I know, I’m taking his jeans into shaky hands and attempting to unbutton them, but my hands are so clammy from nerves that I can’t seem to do it. How embarrassing, right? I fiddle with the cursed button, telling it off in my brain. How dare it keep me from giving my boyfriend a belated birthday present?
The button is off, and it seems like slow motion that they come off. Or maybe it was. I think my heart stopped beating for a second or two. I had gotten one obstacle down, but there was still one more to go.
Remember how I said that right before telling Kurt that I loved him was the most nerve-wracking point in my life? I lied. This had taken the nerve-wracked cake. I leaned up to give Kurt one last kiss on his lips before I nearly ripped his boxers off of him. I looked down to see my boyfriend…er…standing at attention (I haven’t actually thought of many ways to say “boner”, leave me alone!). He wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t that small either. I guess it just works out that way. I have no idea why, but my mouth salivated looking at it. I guess I should take this as a sign of what to do next. I gently took it in my hand, kind of having no clue whatsoever on what I was doing. Stroking up and down, I kind of got a rhythm as if I were drumming. Kurt bucked his hips into my hand, so I guess he liked what I was doing. I wasn’t the king of hand jobs here, but I had a feeling of smug triumph somewhere deep inside me.
Out of the blue, though, I got a really strange urge to put Kurt’s penis in my mouth…so I did. It glided between my lips as the salty-sweet taste invaded my taste buds. I wouldn’t be able to describe the taste to you unless you’ve given a blowjob before, so I’m not going to waste my breath even trying. Gently, I closed my teeth the tiniest bit, making them scrape down the smooth, sensitive surface of Kurt’s cock. Kurt let out a long moan, his head leaning back as his hips bucked into my mouth, surprising me. My tongue ran over the soft underside as my teeth scraped; I hoped that it would be enough to satisfy Kurt because I don’t know any special tricks pertaining to blowjobs. After a while of rotating my head along with scraping my teeth and licking away at his penis, Kurt started to pant really hard.
“Dave…” he panted, “I think I’m gonna—“
BANG. The front door swung open as if we were in a horror movie as I looked to see what the noise was, Kurt’s penis coming out of my mouth with a squelching ‘pop’. I was mortified to see Krist’s tall, blocky frame in the doorway, looming over us like a mother catching her son and one of his friends in the (very innappropriate) act. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I meekly looked up at Krist and wished I could disappear.
It was quite possibly the most awkward experience that I’ve ever dealt with in my entire life. Krist stood and stared in shock at Kurt and me as we stared back. He looked at us and we looked at him. His stare burned into my back, and his gaping mouth gave him that dead-fish look he must have wanted so badly to achieve. That man still needs to learn how to not be creepy.
“D-D…uh…Would-…er….” Krist stuttered, attempting to state his reason for being here, but not quite getting the words out. “DAVE, DO YOU HAVE ANY EGGS?!” he suddenly shouted, making me jump at the sudden explosion of sound. I let the question process in my head. He came all the way to my house and nearly knocked the door off of its hinges, disturbing Kurt and I during a moment of intimacy to ask me if I had any eggs?! Seriously?! I sighed as Kurt shifted so he could pull up his pants.
“Go buy some at the store…” I reasoned with Krist, feeling like a mother avoiding the subject when her child catches her and Daddy having sex. Krist’s face brightened, like I had said something witty and profound.
“Oh, yeah! Thanks, Dave!”
Krist hurried out the door as Kurt buttoned his jeans. I turned back to face Kurt and lay with my head on his stomach.
“So…” Kurt said, sighing. “Do you want to go back to where we were?” I considered this option, but then turned it down.
“I’d rather just lay here with you.”
Kurt chuckled, and then put a hand on my head, gently stroking my hair. A few minutes of silence passed before Kurt fondly stated,
“Krist Novoselic, mood killer.”
“I’m going to kill my phone,” I thought vaguely to myself as the loud, screechy ring of the phone permeated the air and assaulted my ears. I groaned, pushing my upper half off of the floor to stand up and answer the communication device. But before I could even take a step towards it, I heard another set of shuffling footsteps reach the phone and pick it up.
“Hello?” Kurt’s voice answered the phone and shutting it up. I stood confused; how did Kurt get inside? Did he sneak in through the chimney like a real slim Santa Claus? Did he break a window somewhere? Or was I being an idiot and I accidentally left the front door unlocked again? I could feel a lightbulb go off in my head, inducing a very “Duuuuh” feeling. Memories of the night before flashed through my mind, making my cheeks warm up. I remembered now; he had stayed the night for the first time in our relationship.
“Dave, Krist says we have to get our butts over to his house to help pack the van or else he’ll leave without us,” Dave called out to me, trying to surpress a laugh. I could vaguely hear a faint “And I’ll do it too!” on the other line of the phone, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’d like to see him try,” I teased, rocking back and forth on the heels of my feet, grinning with a dog-eat-dog sly smile. “He may be unusually tall, but he doesn’t have extra limbs to play the bass, guitar AND the drums.” Kurt smiled back at me, and then put the phone back up to his ear.
“We’ll be there, Krist! Don’t have an aneurysm, okay?”
There was more yelling from the other end of the phone, but Kurt placed the communicational device back in the cradle too fast for me to actually listen. There was a silence as Kurt and I grinned at each other before breaking out into a fit of the giggles. Kurt’s hand flew to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter, but it was too late; it had escaped and it was contaminating the whole room and everyone in it, namely me. Suddenly, something happened. It happened so fast I couldn’t stop it, and it was unreturnable.
“Did you just snort?!” Kurt asked me, laughing so hard that he had to hold onto the counter for support. All I could do was just stand there, horrified and mortified that I had let such a dorky noise escape my nose. Note to self; you get embarrassed way too easily. “That is so adorable,” he continued, leaning up to give me a kiss.
Note to self; Snort more.
Kurt pressed himself against me, wrapping his arms around my neck and giving me separate pecks on the lips instead of just one long kiss. I couldn’t tell which I liked better; I supposed I just liked the fact that he was kissing me at all.
“I love you, Dave.”
My heart stopped beating for a second; I still wasn’t used to hearing that from him, but it gave me a high better than pot did, so I wasn’t complaining. I kissed the top of his head, resting my chin on the top of his forehead.
“I love you, too.”
I could have stayed like that forever with him, just in Kurt’s arms in my kitchen on a Thursday morning. But like all things, that moment ended way too soon. Kurt let go of me and stepped back after giving me one last kiss.
“Come on, we have to go over to Krist’s before he casts away all of our possessions like we aren’t worth anything.”
“Krist, you better have a good excuse for this,” I warn jokingly as I pulled into Krist’s driveway where he was loading the van. Krist gave me a funny look as he stuffed another amp into the back of the van. I cut the engine and got out of the car. The sun beat down on my back as the chilly wind blew about me, rustling my hair. I had gotten out just in time for Krist to yell back,
“Why, were you getting some of that sweet Cobain ass?”
Anger flared up within my stomach even though I knew he was joking. I gritted my teeth and smiled, shaking my head, my tennis shoes scuffing against the pavement. I was pretty sure that’s how Krist was going to die one day; saying the wrong thing at the wrong time all the while being unbearably creepy. Krist made an orgasm face just to spite me, but I ignored it as Kurt finally got out of the car after me.
“I got tangled in the seat belt,” he announced, making the most shamed face that I have ever seen. I couldn’t help but giggle at him as he walked up the driveway to where Krist and I were standing, earning me a punch in the arm.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Krist said after a moment’s thought. “Dave’s car is a screaming metal death trap.” I glared at him.
“You try affording something better when you’re almost dirt poor,” I glowered, walking back and patting the car on the hood. “Besides, my baby Shiela has history.”
“Dude, face it,” Krist told me, shutting the door to the back of the van. “My truck can kick your car’s ass before it can even sputter ‘You stupid whippersnapper!’”
I couldn’t hold back a sneer as I opened the door to get into the van. “Your Dodge shouldn’t be going around and beating up senior automobiles, Krist.” I stepped into the van and shut the door behind me.
“You know that my Dodge is badass. Thanks so much for the help on loading the car.” Krist commented, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Krist started the van, hearing it sputter to life. I sat back and stared out the window as Krist backed the car out of the driveway. Suddenly, I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something or someone had gotten left behind. I looked around the van in wonder until I finally asked as Krist approached the freeway,
“Krist, where’s Kurt?”
Krist kept his eyes glued to the road, not even turning his head to acknowledge me. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I could have sworn that if that Mazda Miata wasn’t in front of us, he would speed up so fast it would make my hair curl.
“What do you mean, where’s Kurt?”
“I mean that he’s not here right now,” I replied, half-heartedly lifting up a dictionary (god knows why he has one in his van) in an “attempt” to look for our blonde, scrawny lead singer also known as my boyfriend. “I think we accidentally left him in the bathroom at your house again.”
Krist sighed, his shoulders sagging as he looked for an exit off of the freeway.
“I go to the bathroom for a minute, and you decide to completely ditch me?” Kurt asked playfully, grinning as he stood up on the doorstep as we pulled back into the driveway. How could he be smiling? Krist and I had almost left him to go play as an instrumental Nirvana all across the country! Looking at Kurt incredulously, I remembered that he was insane from being okay with me forgetting his birthday to almost leaving him behind, and then all my questions were answered.
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” I apologized breathily, as if I were exhausted. I glared at Krist while continuing, “Someone just had to look at their wrist and assume that we were late.” Krist glared back at me, muttering something under his breath and kicking at the pavement. Kurt shrugged.
“It’s cool. Just remember to apologize to me in full later,” Kurt replied to me, winking and poking my chest, causing my cheeks to tinge red and Krist to make fake retching noises. I don’t know how, but suddenly, a rock magically started to float and then fling its way over to Krist’s head…oh wait, I remember now, I threw it at him. I grinned to myself, satisfied when I heard the ‘thud’ of the rock connecting with Krist’s forehead.
“Ow,” Krist whined, bringing both of his hands up to where I had struck him. “My forehead’s still sore from the infamous bass toss! You might have given me brain damage!” he continued dramatically, dropping to his knees. I raised my eyebrows at him and smirked for all smirking was worth.
“I don’t think your brain can get anymore damaged, Krist. It’s virtually impossible now,” I told him, laughing at his theatrical production of his pain. Krist gave me a middle finger and his creepiest glare before Kurt tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, half expecting him to rip his shirt off and demand that I take him now (woah, what?), but saw that his shirt was still in tact and he was just looking at me. Oh, well.
“Dave, shouldn’t we actually, you know, get on the road?” Kurt asked me, folding his arms across his chest and shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. A lightbulb went off somewhere in the back of my mind. I had forgotten we were supposed to have left for Seattle by now. And to be quite honest, I didn’t really care. I thought we were doing some pretty good work right now, and it honestly wouldn’t hurt us any to take a break, but Danny Goldberg had different ideas.
“We probably should,” I said quickly. “Don’t want ol’ Dan mad at us again for being ‘fashionably’ late.” Kurt rolled his eyes and snorted. Apparently, his old tendancy for pissing everyone he sees off is coming back. I vaguely hoped I’m not a potential target; I always seem to get wrapped up in his sarcasm because I am Mr. Literal. I nodded as Kurt walked toward the van and Krist picked himself up off of the ground.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Krist declared as he brushed the gravel off of the seat and knees of his jeans. “No, don’t be concerned that I might have brain damage from a mysterious airborn rock. That’s fine!”
“Good,” I replied snidely. “I won’t be.”
I could feel Krist’s hot stare on my back as I climbed back into the van in my respectful place in the back seat. I noticed that I’ve always sat behind Kurt and Krist.
“Hey, Kurt, you think you can trade places with me?” I ask the man in the large red sunglasses in the passenger seat. Kurt turned in his seat to look at me with his eyebrow raised as if I had asked him what the gravitational potential energy of the van we were sitting in was.
“Well, you know,” I looked sheepishly down at my knees. “I’ve noticed that I always sit behind you and Krist and I was hoping that we could have that change for a little bit.
A moment of silence passed over us as Kurt mulled that thought over. Suddenly, laughter filled the van as Kurt finally grasped what I had said. I sat back in my seat, trying not to laugh at the way Kurt was doubled over in his seat, but I failed miserably as a few unmanly giggles escaped my lips.
“You’re so weird, Dave!”
At which point the door to the van opened, and lo and behold, Krist’s head poked in with the most confused expression I had ever seen on his face.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a glare.
“Nothing. Can we just go already?”
Something In The Way
“That’s him.” A raspy feminine voice said as ashes from a cigarette fell onto the photo of a smiling blond, thin man. The woman grinned wryly as she brought the cigarette back up to her lips, inhaling the smoke deeply and thinking of the man in the photograph. A man walked back across the room, a bottle of nightrain dangling precariously from his fingers. He briefly looked at the picture lying on the old, dirty coffee table and nodded grimly.
“I know him.”
Courtney exhaled, blowing smoke and putting her cigarette out into the ashtray. To say that she wasn’t feeling her best would be the understatement of the century. She liked to think that the last time she was feeling “her best” was a little over two years ago, before she met the blond-headed pussy. He was responsible for making her life the hell that it is, never mind her heroine or cocaine addiction or her alcoholism. It was his fault, there was no way around it, and the only way to fix it was to get rid of him. The man walked back to the corner of the room that he had came from, taking a swig from the wine bottle in his hand. The sunlight from the window shone onto him, highlighting his long, red hair and making his pale skin seem even paler.
The question seemed abrupt, but the man had been fully expecting it. He stood silent by the window for a few minutes before turning back to Courtney.
“I’ll be nice and go for two million for a pretty lady like you.”
Courtney smiled again, looking at the man standing by the window. They had only met properly about twenty minutes ago, but she could see herself forming a fairly strong bond with him. And she would have to, the kind of work he does. She didn’t want to get on his bad side.
“I’ll take it.”
The man by the window smiled at her as he took a swig from the bottle of Nightrain in his hand. The deal was done.