IN WHICH the heiress to grunge is swooned by the king of garage rock in a lifelong affair over the span of three decades, always fervidly dancing on the edge of crashing and burning...
[2000s JULIAN CASABLANCAS x GROUPIE!OC]
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Running fashionably late and sneaking out the back door, Stella snuck stealthily in the dark. Heels in her hand to avoid making a single sound. She knew getting Courtney's approval to go to a gig this late was absurd. She had already been fuming a week ago when she came home late from partying. Julian hadn't left her mind since they'd met and neither had that kiss. She knew he was like many of those that had come before him, continuing the legacy of wannabe rockstars searching for an upper hand in the industry, for connections she had, for people she knew. Maybe just for some quick grope. Regardless, it seemed to linger longer this time. Her world had been rudely abrupted, it seemed as though everywhere she went he appeared. Posters for the gig had been put up nearly everywhere, a reminder of their promise.
She winced as she turned the doorknob, moving like a mime as she walked into the backyard and out the corner into the driveway. She slid on her kitten heels and hoped she wasn't overdressed in her Dolce and Gabbana set. Racing to grab the next train to prospect park, she sighed, wishing she'd brought a coat. The wind was picking up and the anxiety that made her shiver was even worse. Despite growing up in the public eye, meeting new people was always a challenge. She often found herself to be awkward and at times a bit cold. She shelled up, a trait she'd acquired she'd acquired shortly after moving, puberty hadn't helped much.
She made it to the train, standing by the exit, some stranger smirking at her. Her face twisted into a look of disgust, trailing her eyes elsewhere. "Stupid corset." She mumbled. Once she got off, she bolted it to the Voodoo Lounge. The doors opened at 8, it was 8:30. Procrastination followed her no matter the issue. As she approached, she opened her purse and realized she'd left her fake. "Fuck" she muttered, not really knowing what to do. The line was full and now she couldn't get a drink if she ever made it in. Nick happened to be late as well, ready to rush backstage when he recognized her face, unmistakably Cobain.
"Hey, I'm Nick." He smiled, looking at her standing around innocently. She furrowed her brows a bit, almost defensive, "No thanks. Sorry, Nick." He burst out laughing, much to her distaste. "Nah man, I'm the guitarist. I'm with Julian." Sheer horror coated her face. "Oh fuck. I'm sorry. We haven't met- Oh god, I'm sorry." Nick shrugged, laughing it off. He found her stumbling endearing.
"That's okay, I was at Boon last week when Jules invited you. Why are you in the line?"
"Uh. I don't really know where to go."
"Come on, I'll take ya backstage."
The hustle and bustle of backstage resembled everyday city life, she'd been backstage at several shows during her life but for some reason this one was simply more thrilling. Nick gave her a bit of a tour, explaining they'd been here all-day rehearsing and soundchecking. Anxiety crept in as they made their way towards the green room. Hootering and hollering could be heard from outside the door, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes overpowering her senses. He opened the door as she prepared to navigate through a new world. The soft underbelly of a rising scene.
