80's Band Oneshots/ Imagines

Dave Grohl - Field of Dreams

I remember so little, the rusted stills in my mind are heavy and forbidden, like an old padlock on a forgotten shed. The first few moments I can recall are hazy, like an out of focus TV, complete with echoes of the world around me and a faded sense of anxiety and joy.

Yellow flowers. That is the first thing I can see clearly. It is still an array of blue and green with a swelling heat all around me, but tall yellow flowers are what bring me forward, making me aware of my body. My fingers reach out to touch them, I feel my legs, being brushed over by the long skirt of my sundress. The heat clings to my skin, my hair dampened on the back of my neck.

I force myself to walk, the long grass between my toes. It's still too bright, golden rays piercing my eyes without remorse, I turn away.

Then I see his shape. At first I think he is dead, but then remember that that's me. I can see his dark hair around him as he lies on his back in the field, looking up at the sky. His white shirt, his jeans.

He looks at peace, so much so I don't want to disturb him, but it is only a dream after all. A dream... not of my creation, so it must be his. I am the creation, I am the memory.

I go and lie down next to him, the only sounds around us on a cruelly windless day is our breathing. We both look up at the sky at the white clouds, both of us wishing to stay forever.

"How often do you plan to bring us back here?" I find my voice, finally. He tips his head to look at me, as do I. His eyes bore into mine and there is an unmistakable sadness.

"I like it here" he whispers.

I sit up and sigh, brushing my hair over to one shoulder and picking at the yellow flowers still clutched in my hand.

"Is that so wrong?" He says and sits up next to me.

"I'm supposed to be dead dave, you're supposed to let me go"

"How can I?" I chew my lip and turn away again, not wanting to see his face "This is the only goodbye I'll ever get" he continues

"That's not my fault"

"No" The silence that follows is heartbreaking, I can feel him, his presence, it's not fair. The sweetness of the memories we had here mixed with the unspoken truth of the present. It's not tainting the image, but it's close. I want to take it in the palm of my hand and hide it forever. Preserved and never forgotten, I want this memory to stay pure. To be one of the last things I have of him.

His hand brushed over my neck and I wanted to melt into his touch. He turns my head to look at him and tucks a freeflowing strand behind my ear.

"We never got a story" he's close to my lips, his breath smells like mint chewing gum and cigarettes.

"We deserved a story"

"I know" I whisper and adjust myself so I'm facing him more. He brushes my face, his eyes trained on the freckles that speckle my nose and cheeks.

"Stop trying to memorize me" I say. His lips curl in a smile and he pushes it down.

"I'm sorry" his voice is hoarse. I lift my hand to him

"It's okay. You lost Kurt too" He's leaning into my touch as if he wants to bury himself in it and forget the world.

"How am I supposed to live in a world without you both?"

"Slowly" I say. He squeezes his eyes shut before looking up at me again. I hope to give him solace in my smile.

He looks out at the field around us, the unconscious creation of his mind to seek refuge from the fears of the outside world.

"Do you remember?" he asks me "I had just told you that I loved you. You said that-"

"Our time was coming" I finished. He shook his head sadly

"I should have kissed you then. But I was too frightened" He pulled at a long strand of grass between us.

"Would you have kissed me back?" His voice shook. I felt a warmth in my chest and smiled, nodding.

"Are you saying that because it's true or because that's what my brain wants me to believe?" I leaned in, my hand on his chest uncertainly. His eyes trained on me for a moment, before dropping to my lips. I breathed in his scent once more before finally leaning in and pressing my lips to his, gently. He brought his hand up to the side of my face, parting our lips for breath before he brought me back in again.

This definitely wasn't part of the memory. I pulled away just enough, our forehead still leaning against each other

"I would have kissed you back, Dave" I whispered "We deserved an ending" he nodded in agreement.

"I can't keep coming back here" I continued. He shook his head no, his eyes shut.

"Not yet, just a few more minutes, please" his hand tangled itself in my hair softly, his breathing hard.

"Okay, a few more minutes" I agreed. He kissed me again, soaking in my taste, trying to bask in the fresh forgottence of my memory. I let myself feel the soft heat of his skin, death was cold, heat was rare to come by. We pulled away again, I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip, his aftertaste still lingering on my tongue.

We laid down on the grass again, my head in the crook of his arm.

The warm day continued to swirl around us and I knew he would not dream about me forever, or maybe he would. I don't know which one I hoped for.

"I'm at peace. You should know that" I whisper.

"Do you see him there, is he at peace too?" he says after a pregnant pause. I just nod.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pain and longing hacking away at the inside of my chest, gnawing at my very shell.

"I love you. I should have told you that, that day. I wish I had" I tried to keep my voice from breaking. He turns his head and buries his nose in my hair, trembling as he inhales my scent.

"I miss you"

"I know"