fifty-four.

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            LINDY ARRIVED HOME to find Kurt sitting cross-legged on the couch, his head bowed as he strummed gently on Trae's old guitar. She was not surprised by catching him in the act, but it made her suddenly long for the days in which she'd first gifted him the guitar. At that point, she was so used to longing for the past that she was almost convinced that she was reliving it. 

"Hey," Kurt said happily, looking up at her as she set her things down and closed the door. His messy blonde hair, growing out from when he'd cut it short, was sticking up funny, a sign that he had not brushed it since waking up. He was still in his clothes from the previous day.

"Hi."

Lindy felt a flutter in her stomach. She was caught off guard as soon as she realized that this was the life that she had once dreamt of -- coming home to Kurt after work and walking in as he wrote new music for whatever song he was working on at the time.

"I went to see Courtney today," Kurt explained, setting the guitar down. "She said I could come home for Christmas Eve tomorrow, since it will be Frances's first and all that. But she also said I should stay away until then."

He frowned to himself. "I think it's because she plans on buying from her dealer and doesn't want me to see her do it because she knows she'll feel guilty."

"Well, you're more than welcome here," Lindy said, not wanting him to dive into the details of he and Courtney's tumultuous relationship more than he already had.

"I know I sound like an asshole, making her out to be the bad guy," Kurt sighed. "But just know that's not what I'm trying to do. Courtney and I made a pact that if things went wrong between us, we'd never talk shit about each other. For Frances's sake. We agreed that we wouldn't end up like our parents."

Lindy let her hair loose from its ponytail, sitting down on the couch next to Kurt. "Well, I think that's the right thing to do on both your parts."

Kurt turned to look at Lindy, his face musing as he evaluated her with a strange yet familiar look in his eyes.

"You know, Courtney is my best friend. One of them, at least. She's a great woman, despite what you may have read."

"I don't believe something just because it's in written word," Lindy said quietly.

"Good. I don't either."

Kurt relaxed back into the couch, picking the guitar up and plucking one of the strings. There was a moment of silence between them, the sound of Kurt's guitar playing being the only thing that filled the air with its sweet sound.

"I feel this raging, intense, shitty fucking guilt when I think about Courtney," Kurt said, breaking the quiet as he stopped playing.

"Why?" Lindy asked, genuinely wondering what his answer would be.

"Because the day after I married her, I spent the whole day high as fuck, mentally trying to get to a place where I could think of you and only you."

Lindy took a small breath, feeling her fingers curl against the couch cushions as Kurt said this. His guilt no longer belonged to him alone. She could feel it too, pervading its way closer to her.

"Oh," was all she managed to say. Kurt blushed bright red and went back to guitar playing, appearing to feel instant regret for this confession. Lindy wanted more than anything to reassure him that it was okay, that she understood and didn't think lowly of him for it, but she couldn't. Not even she herself could be sure that it was really okay.

"When's the last time you tuned this damn thing?" Kurt huffed, fiddling with the tuning mechanisms, an effective way to change the conversation.

Lindy laughed. "I couldn't tell you."

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now