Evan Peters Imagines

1994 (Tate)

April 8th 1994

"Today, Kurt Cobain, the leader of one of rock's most gifted and promising bands, Nirvana, is dead, and this is the story as we know it so far. Cobain's body was found at a house in Seattle on Friday morning. He was dead of an apparently self inflicted shotgun blast to the head. Police found what is said--"

I raced to the television set to hit the off button. I didn't want to hear anymore. I couldn't.

"No." I whispered to myself quietly. I fell to my knees and hung my head making my hair fall around my face like a curtain.

My mind raced. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind.
This isn't right. This can't be. He can't be gone. The MTV reporter lied. It has to be some sick April fools joke. Right? Oh no... Tate.

I quickly got up and bolted out of my house; not even caring that I didn't have my shoes on. Tate only lives down the street. Truthfully, I didn't care about myself right now. I didn't care about the cuts I would get from stomping my feet as I ran down the sidewalk. All I care about right now is Tate.

Tate worships Kurt. He's his idol. He always wanted to meet him. I promised him we'd go together to one of Nirvana's concerts when they come to play in LA next time. There won't be a next time anymore. Oh Tate...

Finally arriving to his house, I run past his front gates and up his steps to the front door. Breathing heavily, I knock on the door.

I just wanted to burst in and run to Tate's room but I didn't want Constance to hate me even more then she already does.

I patiently, impatient waited for anyone to open the door. Constance, Addy, hell, even one of the many sprits from this haunted house, I don't care.

Finally, someone opened the door. Addy.

"Y/N!" She breathed out.

She looked worried. Depressed even.

"Addy, where's Tate? Is he home?" I rushed out the words.

Addy grabbed my hand and pulled me past the front door, up the stairs and down the all too familiar hallway towards Tate's room.

"He ran out of the he living room crying and locked myself in his room. He's not opening the door. I keep trying to knock on the door but he won't even talk to me." She cried out to me. She was on the verge of tears worried about her brother. "Help him, please!"

I looked down at her, putting on a brave fave, because I was just as scared about Tate as her, and wiped away a tear that finally fell from her brown eyes. I gave her hand a tight squeeze and nodded, "I'll help him, Addy. I promise."

She walked away, down the hallway to her room, closing the door. I turned to look at Tate's door. I knocked. "Tate? It's me, (Y/N). Can I come in, please?"

"It's open." I heard the whisper he managed to speak out.

I opened the door slowly and stepped inside his room. Closing the door behind me, I look up at Tate. He's sitting at the edge of his bed, hands laced together on his lap, head slightly bowed and eyes red. He was looking down at the floor in front of him.

Oh Tate

I walk up to stand in front of him. We don't speak.

Finally, he looks up at me, "you're not wearing shoes." He stated.

I looked down to my bare feet and breathed out a single laugh. "You're right."

I kneed down in front of him, grabbing his hands and looked up at him. His dark chocolate brown eyes looked so dull and empty. I've never seen them like this. I bring his still laced hands up to my lips and kiss his knuckles. "I'm so sorry, Tate."

I don't even know what to tell him. I don't know how to comfort him. Hell, I don't even know how to comfort myself. I loved Nirvana too. I loved Kurt too.

I bring my head down to rest my forehead against his knees; finally letting the tears loose.

I feel Tate grab my arm, pulling me, signaling me to stand up. I stand up and watch as Tate moves to lay down on his bed. His back turned towards me, I understand what he wants. I lay down behind him, wrapping my arms around his torso, burying my face against his neck. He places his hand on top of mine and laces our fingers together.

"I'm sorry I can't fulfill my promise." I managed to muffle out breaking the silence.

"Don't be." He whispered.

"I'll make it up. Once we graduate, we'll take a bus to Seattle. We'll walk around. Site see. Visit Kurt's house. Then, we'll look for an apartment and settle in. Just you and me. How does that sound, Tate?"

He let's go of my hand and turns around to face me. He places his hand on my cheek and kisses me deeply. We pull away and he rest his forehead against mine. He begins to rub his thumb against my cheek. Eyes still closed, he says, "yes, please."

"I love you so much, (Y/N)."
"I love you so much too, Tate."