girl singing in the wreckage ✰ dave grohl

seventeen

the exhibition would be open for three nights. dave promised-- although he couldn't be there for opening night-- he would be there on the last night. the tour had finished and foo fighters were doing their final press before returning home.

the gallery had opened at its usual time, and throughout the whole day as she worked, she wondered how far away dave was. at four in the afternoon, she was excused from giving tours of other exhibitions to open her own exhibition for the last time.

the entire night, she couldn't help but let her gaze constantly stray to the door, hoping to catch sight of his brown eyes. but he never showed. later that night, after the final guests had left, she sat on a bench sipping a coffee with her head pressed against the wall. she was disappointed to say the least. in a way, she really just wanted to share the moment with someone close to her-- someone who would be able to appreciate this small victory of hers. 

"why the long face?" the familiar voice of melissa spoke from above her. april shrugged.

"someone i really wanted to come didn't make it." she replied, gulping down the last bit of her coffee. melissa frowned, sitting down next to april.

"that sucks." she began, scanning april's sullen expression. "me and some other people from the museum are gonna grab some tacos, you wanna join?" she asked, attempting to lift her friend's spirits. "you can't beat tacos in the mission."

"i appreciate it, mel, but i think i'm gonna clean up and then head home."

"okay... well i hope you feel better." melissa replied with a smile, putting a comforting hand on april's shoulder before leaving.

april flickered her gaze across to the exhibit as she shakily drank her coffee. so much had happened to her in the short life she had lived. i mean, how many funerals can a girl go to before she cracks.

april had been scarring, and patching up said scars over and over for years. but they always reopened some way or another, it was just a matter of time. she often wondered how long lived her sobriety would be. would she be a lifer, like max? or would her life be cut short... like cherry.

she let herself cry as she gazed at the memories frozen in time, and pasted onto her collages. she had always assumed that life was only hard when you were a kid-- but she soon realized, by way of her parents, that life never really gets easier. maybe she was a lifer. 

her thoughts were cut short by the creaking of the door behind her. she hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up, turning to face the person at the door. 

"fuck-- i'm sorry i didn't make it on time, aurora. i wanted to, i really did... i just got caught up in some shit." he anxiously rambled. 

the part in her head ridden with insecurity was screaming, telling her all the things it did when she was on tour all those years ago. but she pushed it to the back of her mind and mustered a smile.

"i'm just glad you're back." her voice wavered.

as dave noticed her puffy eyes, he let out a breath. walking toward her, he pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair affectionately. when he pulled away, he looked into her eyes, wiping away the remaining tears and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"do you wanna show me the exhibit?" he asked.

"yeah." she let out a breath, guiding him with her hand.

the twenty minutes they spent together in the museum were silent. they didn't need to speak. dave had learned more about april in those twenty minutes than in all the years he'd known her. small, mismatched cut-out letters spelled out "alcoholism" and it's definition was scrawled messily below it. next to this was a drawing she had found in one of her childhood journals. 'mama' was written in squiggly letters below the drawing.

the words pasted at the top of the childhood section of her exhibit were "i can't remember her face."  and it was true. she couldn't remember her face.

there was a constellation of prints from her clubbing and punk show days, and an abundance of photos of her and each of the friends i have told you about thus far. entries from journals. empty pill bottles. glitter. ticket stubs. lipstick marks. marlboro reds.

all of these things were almost like a spell on dave. he could smell the shampoo and the perfume aurora wore every day of 1992. he could see her red lipstick. he could hear her singsong voice that had changed significantly since she was eighteen. it was more genuine. deeper. warmer.

the two just stood there until dave reached for her hand once more. he wore a smile, although his eyes were glassy, and he nodded. they walked out of the museum that night, pulled closely together-- dave with his arm around april, and april with her head on his shoulder. dave broke the comfortable silence moments later.

"do you want to move back to virginia with me?" 

her heart seemed to stop. she opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words. how could she leave? the city, her apartment, the museum-- all the memories she made in the years she'd spent in san francisco. she bit her lip as she looked at the ground, thinking over it thoroughly. but the fears all slipped away as she returned her gaze to daves hopefully expression.

"i bought a house, and i'm getting a studio built in it to work on the next album." he spoke enthusiastically, taking her hands in his and squeezing them in encouragement.

she inhaled a sharp breath before replying.

"okay." she let out the breath she had been holding, and that exhale turned into a laugh that made dave's heart flip and tumble in his chest.

"yeah?" he asked once more, and april nodded in response, a dreamy smile dancing on her lips. he pulled her into a hug.

you believe there's somewhere else

where it's easier than this.