drabbles. nirvana

'TIL DEATH DO US APART. / 2

in which
Kurt doesn't find out where he has to go in order to die, and he finds out how to defeat his nicotine addiction on the way.
—♡—

Another basic, pre-concert interview, just to waste the three's time, and Krist had suggested that they confuse the fuck out of the interviewer, just to mess around and avoid boredom, and while Dave was a little unsure (it will definitely affect their reputation, but who could care less at this point?) Kurt was definitely up for it.

And here they were, sitting on a couch, probably ruining the shit out of the poor, young interviewer's life.

"Um," the young interviewer stammered. "What was the, uh, place you wanted to visit the most this tour?"

Kurt stifled a long, apathetic groan or a sigh at best. Another one of these questions, another typical question that had nothing to do with their career. This was where the plan would come through.

Krist turned to look at the other two smugly.

"The abortion clinic, of course," Krist beamed joyfully. "How else are we supposed to keep the band well-fed?" He challenged matter-of-factly in the happiest, jolliest tone that the other two had never gotten sick of.

Bingo! The interviewer's face turned pale with shock. He tried to shake it off, clearly uncomfortable. The mic was instead passed over to Dave.

The brunet waited a second, just for the suspense, until he carefully leaned in as close as it gets to the mic and whispered "hell."

By now it was just hard having to stifle laughs of all kinds. The mic was now passed over to Kurt, who looked completely out of it.

His jaw slack, he held the microphone and let his eyes dart around as he thought. Instead he gave up, shrugged and looked back at the interviewer.

"Man, I don't know," he laughed. "The first thing I said when we got off the plane all the way back in France was—" he paused, thinking for just a second. "'Where to die?'" He quoted, recalling exactly just that. It wasn't a joke, anything made-up, because he had actually said that. It wasn't after he got off the plane, instead just about an hour or two after the flight— in a hotel, when he was completely out of it (drugs. Enough said.)

"Where to die," Dave quoted— snickered.

"Yeah, dude. I just really want to fucking die," the frontman nodded, glancing at his drummer with a knowing, funny look that said more than words could right now, a look that said 'kill me before I start laughing.'

Dave returned one just like that, and Kurt was forced to turn back around when the interviewer stammered again.

"Do you still smoke? Are you planning on stopping, if so?"

Kurt's brows furrowed as he coiled just slightly, and just for the fun, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes; opening it and pulling one out, digging for the pink lighter and lighting the 'cancer stick'.

"Actually, I do still smoke, isn't that a surprise?" He hummed, took a long drag of the cig and blew it out, almost in the interviewer's face. It was uncomfortable, yet funny as fuck. "I do have a good solution to get rid of the addiction though."

The interviewer nodded, as if signaling for the blond to go on.

"Masturbation," the frontman smiled. Krist stares at him as if he was out of his mind, maybe just carried away, but the bassist was— to put this simply, proud.

"Just masturbate. All day, every day. Non-stop. Until you die. It's a good distraction, it's a win-win! You die, you masturbate and you get distracted from the cigarettes or whatever you're using."

And before Krist could cut in and take over, Dave started laughing hysterically— and that's where the interviewer decided to wrap it up. Kurt looked fucking proud, Dave was still laughing as if it was the funniest shit ever, and Krist just looked disappointed, all because he didn't get to have the last word.

"And that was Nirvana!" The interviewer chuckled awkwardly, and the cameras stopped rolling after a few more words that neither of the three men could give a shit about.

Needless to say, the interviewer was scarred for life, and now the media had something to go crazy about.

—♡—

I'm sorry I'm on crack

word count: 740