Drama Queen (Kurt Cobain)

86

"What the hell is she doing here?" Kurt said as he looked at Tobi Vail in disgust.
"I was around and I decided that I would come to see you." She said, hiding behind Kathleen. I placed a firm hand on Kurt's shoulder.
"Go away." He sighed.

Kurt got up and opened the fridge. He grabbed a beer and popped it open with a lighter.
"Come outside with me." He asked quietly. I nodded. He opened the kitchen door and we walked through the dark as he lit a cigarette. He didn't have a free hand to hold mine. I was shaking, shivering from the cold as Kurt took a drag from his cigarette.
"Why did you want me to come with you? It's cold as hell." I asked, slightly annoyed.
"Hell's pretty warm." He joked. I rolled my eyes.
"You're such a dad." I laughed. He wrapped his arm around me, resting his beer bottle on my shoulder. We stood awkwardly in our back yard.
"I love you a lot." He said quietly.

I didn't know that I could say it back
I didn't know if it was true.

We had cheated on each other, fought, hated each other, lied.
"Kurt I know it's not a good time for this..."I started.
"What?" He asked. I shut my eyes.
I opened them, facing him. He only stood an inch taller than me when slouching.

I wasn't going to do this on a happy night like this.

I should have, but I didn't.

I decided to do the opposite.
I neared him, kissed his forehead lightly.
"I'm not feeling well." I lied.
"Oh..." He said quietly.
"I think I'm going to go upstairs and go to sleep." I said quietly. He nodded.
"Be safe, don't kill Tobi." I smiled. He nodded quietly and slouched against the side of the building.
"I'll be up when everyone leaves."

I opened the door, my dog coming to greet me.
"You okay?" Billie Joe asked, his eyes digging into me, looking inward at my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well." I lied again. River looked up from a magazine.
"Want me to make you soup?" Rio asked. I shook my head.
The nearly twenty people that filled our home carried on without me. I went upstairs, took off my shoes, and sat on Kurt and I's bed with a notebook.

My hand smeared ink as I furiously wrote, my sharp, jagged handwriting piercing the delicate paper with an ink pen. It must have taken me an hour, the terrible poetry that covered the page, haphazard scribbles of sad sad thoughts. I heard the door knob turn, and Kurt appear.

I quickly shut the book.

"What have you got to hide?" He said, quite obviously drunker than he had been before. The gloss to his eyes, the fidgeting of his hands, it all implied he was on more than that. He shook gently, hardly noticeable.

I noticed.
"Why aren't you asleep? You said you were going to sleep two hours ago." He said raising an eyebrow.

Two hours. 

"New poem." I sighed.
"Read it to me." He ordered, untying his sneakers and unbuttoning his jeans. He sighed as he sunk into our bed.
"No I'm okay." I sighed.
"Alright." He said, shutting his eyes. I pulled the blankets over his body, as he wouldn't do it himself. A large hand gripped my arm,
"What?" I asked him.
"Hold me." He ordered sadly. I turned off the light beside our bed and allowed him to nuzzle his face into my neck.
"I love you." He said. His breath smelled like beer.
"I know you do."