thirty-three.

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FEBRUARY, 1989, SEATTLE, WA

                  IF THERE WAS one thing that Lindy could decidedly narrow down about what she admired from Kurt, it had to be his shameless taste in art. It was vulgar and sometimes hard to look at, but she gave him credit for spilling the contents of his mind into his own creations.

Their apartment had turned into a disarray of Kurt's various pieces, from bloodied babydoll heads to portraits of naked bodies with mismatched organs. He'd been painting like crazy, visiting thrift shops and obtaining items that he could deface with his own craft. But Lindy didn't mind. It kept him happy and sane when he wasn't playing shows.

The traces of his art seemed to watch her as she stood in their kitchen, crowding around her like some sort of ritualistic circle.

"So we changed the album name," Kurt declared, entering the kitchen where Lindy stood removing a pot from its place in the cabinet.

"Really?" she said, setting the pot on the stove and flicking it on.

"Yep. It's going to be 'Bleach' and they're predicting that it's going to release in June. Do you like it?"

"I love anything that you come up with," Lindy said, starting to rifle through the pantry for something to cook. All her earnings from work had gone towards rent and gas, so the shelves were bare, containing things like saltine crackers for Kurt's stomach aches and peanut butter.

"Let me cook," Kurt insisted, shuffling in front of her and pulling out a box of pasta. "I'll make you my signature dish."

"Fettuccine alfredo?" Lindy laughed, knowing that it was Kurt's favorite thing to cook.

"Yes. Go sit, or something. You look exhausted."

Kurt wasn't lying. With the middle of her second semester fast approaching, Lindy would be applying to the college of nursing at UW within weeks. She'd done nothing except work and study and then study and work, constantly running back and forth between school, the apartment and her job.

At the moment, her burdens had been manifested physically so that she looked like pure hell, her hair knotted into a floppy bun on her head and her face ragged. She wore a coffee stained sweatshirt that went down to her knees and no pants, further evidence that she was too tired to even do simple things like dress herself. She found herself feeling extremely grateful for Kurt's chivalrous offer to cook dinner for them both.

"You must be so excited," Lindy said, sitting at their round table for two and watching as Kurt deposited the pasta into a pot of boiling water.

"It is pretty great," Kurt admitted, sounding reluctant to brag about just how enthusiastic he was about his budding success.

After he'd finished making dinner, he filled both their plates and sat next to Lindy, digging in. They ate and discussed their day before Kurt made another surprise announcement.

"Shit, I almost forgot! We booked a gig playing for UW. How cool is that?"

"That's actually really awesome. You get to play for me and all my school mates," Lindy said. Kurt nodded, continuing on seriously and not catching the teasing in her voice. 

"And better yet, I guess your school newspaper wants to do an interview before the show."

"Now that in itself makes you a famous rockstar," Lindy laughed. "The Daily is exclusive for all the cool kids."

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now