drabbles. nirvana

ABERDEEN. / 8

1991 type thing where nirvana is still a 'garage band' and Dave hasn't joined yet :) it's all in Aberdeen lol how tragic

—♡—

It's cold. It's so very cold tonight and I hope that the single cigarette and jacket can keep me warm as I stare at the river and blow the smoke out, watching the current ripple intensely.

It's raining, but it's not the intense type of rain. It's just a small drizzle-type rain, though it's not exactly a drizzle. It's enough to drench me, keep my damp hair in place from the light autumn breeze; it's October and it's as cold as winter already.

Pressing the cigarette between my lips I take a long drag, inhale smoke, keep it in before blowing it all out; my lungs emptied of everything, hopefully my pain and sorrow too.

Never been the biggest fan of parties, not in Aberdeen at least. This place is a small shithole and while the his place is filled with a bunch of farmers, redneck bitches and families with like fifty children, I'm still only twenty-one, looking for adrenaline, action. You can't find that shit here in Aberdeen, not unless you do something illegal or whatever, or unless you have friends, which, I don't.

I wasn't exactly looking for trouble, I was laid back. Unlike most troubled, angsty teenagers and young-adults (like myself) living here, i didn't go around smashing store windows or graffitiing stupid shit on cars. I went to parties, talked to people and played drums.

And tonight, I had found myself in yet another one of these stupid parties. It's dreadful, truly tragic. The small house the party is held in reeks of alcohol and vomit; sweat and sex, stupid party shit that I can't care less about, which was why I decided to escape and go down by one of the close-by rivers. It's a small one but the sound of the rippling water calms me down; paired with the occasional wind and pitter-patter of the rain as it hit the fallen leaves on the ground. It's a weird atmosphere, it's melancholy and odd; it makes me feel at ease.

I wish that I could end my suffering right here, right now; burn the rain and let it fall, drench me with it's scorching flames and burn me alive; to hell with me. I'd rather die than be here in this stupid hellhole of a town, but maybe living with my parents for now isn't that bad— at least I'm not homeless. All I need to do is save up and move to Seattle where people are actually alive.

I'm lost deep in thought; thinking of what the fastest way to kills myself would be before I hear a stick cracking; breaking and footsteps against the muddy leaf-covered floor.

And it; the person sits down next to me, a little close but not too close, as if searching for warmth but trying not to be creepy.

"Hey."

It's a husky voice, a sad one; one that hides pain behind a broken smile, his all.

"Dave, right?" The same voice questions timidly; almost unsurely, as if afraid of being wrong.

I blow out a final puff of smoke and pull the cigarette from between my lips and, with my brows arched, I turn to look at the person. It's a small blond, blue electrifying eyes and a fucking the cars shirt, a similar jacket draped around his shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," I nod, trying to recall said boy's name. "You're, uh.."

"Kurt," he stated simply with a small grin.

I hum and turn to look back at the river, he follows my gaze and now we're both gazing at the rushing waters.

"Came to escape the hellhole too?" I joke and he lets out a small chuckle. It's one that I'd love to hear again and again, one that's almost contagious.

"Yeah. My friend dragged me here, I don't even like parties."

I snort. "Really?"

He shrugs. "Kinda depends. Parties in Aberdeen are fuckin' lame."

"They are," I nod in agreement. "Really are."

He hums.

And it's silence that rests between us until he shifts, moves a little closer for warmth, again. I have to resist the urge to just pull him in, wrap my arm around his frail shoulders and warm him up, but we only met a few days ago, only as acquaintances too, so that would just be creepy.

"So, uh. You seem cool," he trails off timidly, almost hesitantly. "What do you, like, do in your spare time?"

"Drums," I answer nonchalantly with a shrug as I take one last drag of the cigarette before extinguishing the bud on the wet leaves and tossing it away, somewhere. "I used to play the guitar but I gave up after maybe a week of playing," I laugh. He smiles and looks down at the ground, right at the wet leaves. "What about you?" I smile softly, and it's a small smile as I turn to look at him, also taking my time to admire how truly beautiful he looked. It's odd, but he's fucking beautiful.

"Well," he trailed off. "Uh, I play in this small band, we do these stupid bar gigs and stuff. I do vocals and guitar or whatever, and other then that I paint sometimes, but I'm not all that special."

I cock my head to the side once more in interest. "A band? I see. What's it called?"

"Nirvana," he huffs. "We suck though. Barely even pays well, it's definitely not something we can make a living out of."

I smile hopefully. "What genre?"

"Punk rock," he smiles, and it's almost a proud smile.

He has good taste. I like punk rock, too.

"I love punk rock!" I chuckle in awe. "When's your next gig? I'd love to see you play!"

It's a light blush that heats his cheeks and dusts him with a flushed pink and he shrunk. "Yeah.. it's this Friday," he murmurs, and I smile to myself. "Local bar, right down the block from here. Far left and just around the corner."

"Gotcha'. I'll be there for sure."

He nods with a shy grin. "Thanks."

"So, tell me more about yourself?" I suggest with a smirk.

"Well..."

He trailed off and I instantly got the feeling that his was going to be a long night. A long but enjoyable one; it felt like we were going to be great friends.

—♡—

maybe a twoshot I don't know

fun

word count: 1091