𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙎

Change

The morning after his phone call with Iris, Dave woke up to the soft, muted light of Seattle's overcast sky. The rain had stopped for the moment, but it wouldn't be long before the city returned to its usual gray haze. He sat up in bed, running a hand through his messy hair, the remnants of sleep still heavy in his limbs. The room felt more cramped than it had the night before, as though the silence itself had taken on a physical form, pressing in on him from all sides.

Dave stared at the phone for a long moment. His conversation with Iris from the night before replayed in his head. She'd been understanding, calm, the kind of steady presence that he hadn't realized he needed so desperately. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he considered her offer seriously. She'd offered him an escape from the whirlwind of his mind, a chance to breathe for a while.

He had pushed her away so many times in the past months, buried in the chaos of Nirvana's rise and his own spiraling depression. But now, after everything—after Kurt's death—he was tired of trying to figure everything out on his own. He didn't want to be alone in this anymore. Maybe it was time to stop running from the one person who had been there for him, even when he hadn't been able to be there for her.

He picked up the phone, his finger hovering over the dial, hesitating just for a moment. And then he called her.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little shakier than he intended, but it was a relief to hear her voice on the other end.

"Hey, Dave," Iris responded, a soft warmth in her tone. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better," he said, but it felt like the truth wasn't entirely in the word. "I've been thinking about what you said... about not being alone." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I think... maybe I should come over. I could really use some time away from everything. Just a little space, you know?"

Iris didn't hesitate. "Of course," she said quickly. "Come by whenever you're ready."

He smiled faintly, the idea of seeing her a small but significant relief. There was no rush, no pressure, just a quiet understanding that he could find peace there, even if just for a little while.

When Dave arrived at Iris's apartment in the late afternoon, the place was warm and inviting. She greeted him with a soft smile, and for a moment, he felt like he could finally take a deep breath without the weight of the world sitting on his chest.

They settled into her living room, the quiet hum of the city outside barely breaking the stillness between them. There was no need for small talk; it felt natural to be there, as though the space between them had always been filled with unspoken understanding.

Iris gestured to the couch. "Want some coffee?" she asked, her tone light.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Dave said, sinking into the cushions. He looked around, taking in the simple, comforting space—nothing extravagant, just a cozy apartment filled with the kind of warmth that came from years of lived-in comfort. It felt... safe.

Iris made the coffee, and when she came back, they sat together in a comfortable silence, sipping the warm drink, letting the calm between them settle like a blanket. Eventually, Dave spoke, his voice quieter now, as if the words were hard to force out.

"I don't know if I'm gonna pick up an instrument again," he said softly, his eyes locked on the mug in his hands. "After Kurt... I just feel like everything's too much. I don't know how to keep doing this. I don't want to go back to Seattle, to Nirvana, to any of it. It's like every corner of this city reminds me of him. Of everything that's been lost."

Iris sat down next to him, close enough that she could feel the weight of his words in the air between them. She understood. She understood the pull of wanting to escape, to leave everything behind. The loss of Kurt, the pain of watching the band he had built from nothing fall apart—Dave had given so much of himself to Nirvana, and now it was tearing him apart.