Grunge Is Dead {Human Tate Langdon~SMUT}

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{A.N. Just realized this is both fluff and smut, 2 in 1. How cute of me}

♱ ♱

1993, California—Nirvana's concert :

"THIS MUSIC IS BREAKING MY EARS".
"YEAH, NO SHIT SHERLOCK".
"AND I FUCKING LOVE IT".
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" the dirty blonde-haired boy suddenly asks.
"WHA...WHAT?".
"WHAT'S YOUR NAME!".
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!".

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?", this time I distinctly hear his voice through the loud sounds when he leans towards my ear.
"WOAH! NO NEED TO SHOUT", I do the same. "I'm Y/N. What's your name?".
"Tate... Just Tate I suppose".
I smile and glance over at him as he does the same with me: he's wearing a red and black striped sweater with a pair of jeans and Converse. Well, we are even matching shoes.

I turn around to the stage just when I suddenly hear Kurt's last scream before shutting off the tune completely, followed by more other shouts and loud noises of the crowd.
"Tate" turns around as well right after the band begins with another song: my favorite.
And by the look on my face I can tell that he noticed that too.
"Don't tell me this is your favorite one".
"Why? Are you going to tell me there are better songs by them?".
"Not at all, it's my favorite one too".
"Oh, I assumed you were going to tell me the opposite".
"First impressions are so bad and of low esteem. It's better sticking to get to know".

♱ ♱

I swing my legs back and forth while sitting on the low wall and glancing at the huge amount of people underneath.
"You brought me a drink, really?"
"C'mon it's just Vodka. You said you never drink, you gotta do it at least once in a while. Especially if you're at a concert with someone as cool as me".

He hands me the whole bottle after taking a sip himself and passes the back of his hand over his mouth. I shrug and accept the invite, indeed, I drink more than I ever thought I would.

"So, are you from here?".
I take one last sip before turning my head to him:
"Mhm. Great shit, really" I say sarcastically. "Are you not?".
"I live here and I can agree with you, this city never changes".
"And the people... God, the people" I reply with a deep sigh and wide eyes.
"Not fan of them, huh? It seems like we have more than something in common", I can perceive his smile in the dark, illuminated just by the dim light of the far stage.

"Is there even something you don't hate? Like, I don't know... Passions, maybe?", he drinks from his bottle while keeping his eyes fixed on the stage.
"Mhh, about that, I have too many passions, but wait until you realize that none of it will bring me the success I crave".
He nods as if that is such an obvious statement, which I don't disagree with:
"I'm the same, even worse, if that will make you feel better".
"Why would it make me feel better? I don't gain pleasure by watching other people get hurt".
"I don't know, some people work like that", he shrugs.

"People are weird".
"No, the weird ones are less scary".
"Do you think I'm weird?".
"Again, that's another first impression, but apart from that, you seem like the weird but cool type of weird".
"Uh thanks, you don't seem bad yourself".
"Wait until you get to know me".
"Ohh, mysterious boy" I giggle.

♱ ♱

Tate doesn't seem like the bad kid, in fact he changed my point of view on several things, positively I hope.
The affinity that is present between us was oddly immediate, like it was meant for us to meet tonight.
We laugh and run in a dark alley when the concert ends, leaving the stage and the people behind us.
That's when we finally stop and I take the impulse of kissing him.

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