seventy-three.

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[ forewarning, this is so sexual and i am so sorry at my attempt to write this. i want to be able to do this properly but DAMN it's so hard for me ]

JANUARY, 1994, SEATTLE, WA

       AS LINDY EXPECTED, she did not ring in the new year with Kurt, though she desperately wanted to. Instead, she had started to concoct a plan to wrangle Beth into going to a bar with her to drink their loneliness away together.

But surprisingly, Beth had other ideas for how she and Lindy would welcome in nineteen-ninety-four.

Their assigned ward of nurses and doctors (mostly nurses) had organized a small party at the house of none other than Jack. While Lindy felt odd celebrating at her ex-boyfriend's luxurious home, she didn't argue. It was better than being alone on such an important night of the year.

Trae and Allie had offered her the job of babysitting Hannah while they went out with friends, but as much as Lindy adored Hannah, she was glad to turn them down. More than anything, she wanted to be surrounded by people capable of carrying a conversation with her. She craved the human interaction.

The night had gone well and Lindy was proud of herself for not thinking too much about what Kurt and Courtney may or may not have been doing in their own New Year's celebrations. Nauseating mental images of them kissing and cuddling and having sex in whatever bed they might have been holed up in had threatened to ruin her entire night. 

Thankfully, she'd had the advantages of distractions. Being around Jack was nice rather than uncomfortable, and Lindy found herself attached at his side as the night stretched on. She consumed so much champagne that at one point, she and Jack had tumbled into his room, giggling like little kids.

"What did you have to tell me privately?" Lindy had laughed, sipping more golden champagne from her glass flute.

"That you're beautiful," Jack grinned.

Lindy was drunk, but she didn't look too deeply into Jack's compliment. Instead, she'd laughed more, leaning into him and playfully slapping his shoulder before clinging to it for balance. 

When the clock had neared midnight and the countdown chant began downstairs, Jack had stared at her earnestly, a sense of solemnity behind his hazy eyes.

"I want to kiss you even though I know it's not going to happen."

"We can't," Lindy insisted. Her intoxication had been powerful enough that it had given her reason to lay down onto Jack's bed, spreading her arms out and closing her eyes.

When the guests below had screamed 'Happy New Years!,' Jack had leaned down to kiss Lindy's forehead before chuckling.

She'd ended up spending the night at his house once she'd realized that she was too far gone to drive. He'd graciously given her his bed and made due with the couch downstairs.

When Lindy had woken up, she'd been rightfully mortified to know that she'd rendered herself incapable of getting home, but Jack was understanding.

"I'd rather you have been here than out on the streets drunk driving," he'd lectured, walking her out to her car the next morning.

"I hope this wasn't shitty of me to stay, though," Lindy grimaced, hoping he would understand what she secretly implied.

Jack raised his eyebrows innocently. "Oh. Well. It's not, Lindy. We're very close friends and I'd do anything for you. Plus, I'm sort of seeing someone right now, so it's more shitty of me considering what I said to you last night."

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now