𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭, cobain

one.

JULY 1993, SEATTLE

          THE PITTER-PATTER of rain against the car window created a soothing melody, a lullaby that pacified my fretted nerves. I gazed through the misted glass, impatience coursing through my veins. There was little in life that I truly loathed. If anything, it always subdued my anger to log a list of pros and cons and meticulously dissect a situation. Unfortunately, there was no pen and paper in Ash's car—I already looked, frantically rummaging through the messy piles of strewn junk in his backseat. At that moment, I decided that sitting in my brother's car at midnight for an hour and a half while he loitered in his ex-girlfriend's house was the very first thing I ever hated.

I flipped open the sun visor, the intense, beaming flash of light from either side of the mirror illuminating both the dark car and my face. In the reflection in the mirror, I caught a glimpse of my own face, now crystal clear, as if the light unveiled a new version of myself. I idly wiped the smudged lipstick from around my mouth and peered out of the window, straining my neck for a better view of the driveway and anticipating the rhythm of Ash's footsteps. I had been repeating this action for an hour and a half, hoping for a different outcome. It was as if I believed that by sheer repetition, he'd magically pop out of the front door. I sighed and propped my feet on the dashboard, chewing on a hangnail while I waited.

The droplets of rain on the window distorted my vision, but I could have sworn I saw the faint silhouette of a figure moving beneath the glow of the streetlamps encasing the cul-de-sac. The driver's-side door flung open, inviting a waft of rain into the car. Ash slammed the door shut behind him, raindrops clinging to his disheveled mess of chocolate-brown hair, forming glistening globes that trickled down his face. His fierce, dark eyes glowered at me.

"Get your fucking shoes off the dash, Erin." He had always been annoyingly defensive of his car. I figured that if I got the luck of the draw and scored a Range Rover from our parents, I wouldn't have wanted my little sister littering her dusty shoe prints all over the glossy interior, either. That didn't stop me from arguing, though.

"Oh," I began sarcastically, "forgive me for getting comfortable, but you took forever inside. I thought you were just getting your things from Anna's place."

Ash turned the key in the ignition, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "That, among other things." I frowned before noticing that his polo shirt was not unbuttoned when we first arrived at Anna's house. My mouth agape in horror, I decided not to press the issue any further—my brother's sex life was not a topic I ever wanted to venture into.

"Anyways," he muttered, "sorry, sis. Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Just lost track of time."

"Yeah, fucking right," I said firmly. It was dark in the car, but I could still feel him rolling his eyes at me. It was typical of him to be so blasé. I slumped down in my seat, tuning into the gentle hum of the engine. As the car zoomed down the road, I stared ahead blankly, watching the trees rush past us in a blur of green.

Ash jerked the car to the side to avoid a pothole in the road overflowing with rainwater. "I hate Seattle," I griped under my breath. "It's so fucking rainy and cold all the time." We were still new to the area, only having moved a few months prior. In Washington, the sky remained under a constant cover of gloomy, tumultuous clouds and vengeful storms—stark contrast to the sunlit California climate that wrapped me in its gentle warmth.

"Beats one hundred-degree weather," Ash replied. "Brutal summers back home, huh?"

I grinned wistfully, my first smile of the night. "It wasn't so bad. I miss being tan. I miss the beach. People here are just as bitter as their coffee."