OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

nine.

WHEN REAGAN PULLED up to the Motorsports International Garage, she almost felt her nervousness subside over the mere simplicity of the venue before her. Yet when she saw a poster plastered out front advertising Nirvana, The Melvin's and the Dwarves as playing that night, her heart sunk back into her stomach.

The Melvins too? she thought, parking her car and getting out. Her hands were trembling, but she did her best to hide them by clutching her bag in front of her. A steady mill of people had gathered out front, sipping beers out of sticky cans and chattering as the sky grew darker. Reagan walked past them with her head down, hoping that no one would recognize her in the crowd.

She frequented shows like the one she was at the. so often that she had no doubts someone would know her as a familiar face.

Reagan tried to recollect Kurt's instructions on how to get to the backstage area as she crossed the threshold into the garage. The lights were glaring along the venue inside, illuminating the rather small stage that was already decorated with the necessary instruments for the show. She tried to guess who was going out first as she maneuvered through more groups of bodies, her mind racing a mile a minute until she discovered a painted black door with a faulty door knob attached.

She rapped her knuckles against it, assuming that it was the only entrance to backstage. It sure did look like it, with the peeling black paint and scratch marks serving as decoration. She assumed that it was the only obvious way that would lead her to Kurt, Krist and whatever destiny awaited her that night.

She had guessed right -- the door swung open and revealed Krist, standing at six-foot-seven and wearing a goofy smile on his face. Even though he had trimmed his hair shorter since she had last seen him, Krist's familiar warmth made Reagan grin in spite of herself.

"Holy fucking shit, you actually came!" the lanky bassist crowed, grabbing Reagan and pulling her into the low-lit room behind him. Reagan staggered on her feet, though she caught herself and laughed.

"Honestly, I was just thinking that to myself in the parking lot."

Krist, being the loving oversized child that he was, bent down to hug Reagan graciously. He jostled her in his long arms, making her laugh a little harder.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you for coming!"

As Krist drew away, Reagan caught sight of the petite, blond-haired frontman who had wrangled her into the circumstances she was then in. Kurt was hiding behind Krist, swathed in an oversized flannel that was patterned in blue and white stripes.

Standing next to Krist, he was totally minuscule, but that hardly distracted from his penetrating blue eyes and sharp features. He was as handsome as any movie star, though he would have vehemently denied such a compliment.

"Reagan," Kurt breathed, sounding alleviated from a bout of uneasiness. He'd held fast to the faith that Reagan would stay true to her word and perform with them, but the small, doubtful side of his personality had feared she would bail out.

"Hi Kurt," Reagan smiled. She walked directly up to him, momentarily forgetting her burdened thoughts in order to appreciate that she had been reunited with two very good friends.

She didn't hesitate in hugging Kurt too, even though he'd only smiled when greeting at her. When she wrapped her arms around his, she inhaled the scent of cigarette smoke and sugar, an odd combination that she attributed to Kurt's appetite for sweets. She had learned from all the nights jamming with him that he frequently ate like a six-year-old.

Kurt barely had any time to hug Reagan back before she pulled away, settling for a two second squeeze so as not to embarrass him. She could not remember an occasion in which she had hugged him before, but the timing seemed appropriate.