𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙎

New Way Home

SEPTEMBER, 1994

Dave stood in the doorway of the decently sized, cluttered apartment, feeling a sense of surreal comfort as he took in the sight of familiar surroundings. The air already smelled like Barrett, distant hints of coffee, incense, and the worn scent of old vinyl records. The light outside was soft, muted by the Seattle drizzle that painted the sky in grays, just the way he remembered it. This was a place that felt like home, yet unfamiliar at the same time. It wasn't the same Nirvana-world he had once known, but it was a start—a fresh start.

Barrett had been open to the idea of buying a place with Dave, not hesitating for a second. He'd been more than a friend to Dave over the years; he'd been a collaborator, a sounding board, and someone who understood the music, the moments, and the madness that came with being a part of a band like Nirvana. The fact that Barrett had reached out to help him during this rough patch made the weight in Dave's chest feel just a little bit lighter.

They were finishing the last of the setup in the small room, Dave's new bedroom. It was a modest space, with a window that overlooked a quiet alleyway. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough for now. Barrett had already helped him unpack a few things, and the bed was set up near the window, with a guitar stand beside it, waiting to be filled with purpose.

"Thanks again, man," Dave said, looking up at Barrett with a genuine smile. "This... this really means a lot."

Barrett grinned back, his hair messier than usual, the familiar twinkle in his eye. "No problem at all. You know I've got your back." He looked around the room, surveying the piles of clothes and boxes stacked against the walls. "Besides, I owe you one for all that time you guys helped me out back in the day with the recordings."

Dave nodded, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't even realized how long it had been since he'd been on his own, how much he'd retreated from everything in the last few months. Now that he was back in Seattle, though, it felt like there was a weight lifting off his shoulders, if only a little.

"I'm just glad to be getting out of that headspace," Dave confessed quietly, looking down at the carpet beneath his feet. "I spent so long in that mental hole, like I couldn't even see a way out of it." He let out a breath, exhaling a tension he hadn't even realized he was carrying. "But this really feels like a step in the right direction."

Barrett's expression softened. He clapped a hand on Dave's shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "I get it, man. No one could've expected you to be okay after all that happened. You've been through a lot. But I'm glad you're here. Really."

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The sounds of unpacking; boxes opening, clothes rustling, filled the air. It was a quiet, comfortable kind of silence, one that felt more familiar than anything else.

Finally, Dave broke the quiet, his voice a little more hesitant this time. "I've been thinking a lot, y'know? About picking music back up."

Barrett's eyes lit up immediately. "You should. No question about it. You've always had something in you, Dave. Even when we were recording with Nirvana, I remember you showing me some of those little demos you'd do on your own, or you asking to use the leftover tape to record them. Some of them were damn good."

Dave paused, leaning against the edge of the desk, thinking. The idea of making music again was a bit daunting. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. It wasn't just about making music for the sake of it—it was about getting back to himself, finding some sort of rhythm in a world that had gone completely offbeat.

"Yeah," Dave agreed, nodding slowly. "It'd be cool to look at some of those. See what's still worth keeping. I mean, if anything, it'd help me get back in the groove."

Barrett raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Hell yeah. You've got a ton of material floating around from back in the day. There's probably some stuff there you can build on. Just don't overthink it, Dave. You know the best stuff just kind of happens when you let it."

Dave smiled, his heart feeling a little lighter at the thought. He was grateful for Barrett's encouragement, it wasn't always easy to feel confident in picking something up again when it had been so deeply entangled with loss.

As the two continued to unpack and set up the room, Dave's thoughts began to shift. Something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for the past few weeks, something he hadn't fully acknowledged until now, began to take center stage. The image of Iris, her smile, the warmth of her voice, it all rushed back to him like a current, sweeping away the dark thoughts he'd been nursing for so long.

He hadn't talked to her in months. But the idea of reaching out, of hearing her voice again, seemed like something that would help him. He couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat as the thought of her lingered in his chest.

"Barrett," he suddenly said, his voice a little shakier than he intended. "Where's the phone?"

Barrett turned from the box he was rummaging through and pointed to the small table by the window. "Right there, man."

Dave didn't waste another second. He crossed the room quickly, grabbing the phone from the table. He stared at the numbers in his mind for a moment, as though trying to bring the right moment to life, to reconnect with the thread that had been pulled loose for so long.

His heart raced as he dialed Iris's number. It had been a while, but he still remembered it, every digit etched into his memory from the last time they'd talked. The phone rang three times before she picked up, her voice soft and surprised when she greeted him.

"Hello?" Iris's voice on the other end sent a wave of warmth through him.

"Hey," Dave said, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto his face. "It's Dave. I'm back in Seattle."

There was a pause on the line. Iris didn't immediately respond, probably processing the unexpected call. Dave could almost hear her smile.

"Dave?" she said, her voice sounding a little more awake now. "Wow. That's a surprise. What's going on?"

"I've been thinking about you," Dave said before he could stop himself, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. "I—" He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous. "I want to see you. I don't know... just to talk. To catch up."

He could hear her breath shift slightly, a soft exhale on the other end. She was quiet for a moment, and Dave felt his stomach tighten. He'd waited so long to hear this kind of answer, but now it felt like he had everything to lose.

Finally, she spoke, her tone gentle but warm. "I'd like that, Dave. I really would."

Dave let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The relief was instant, but beneath that, a new kind of anticipation began to build. He'd just taken the first step back toward something he wasn't sure how to define, but it felt right.

"Great," he said, his voice steadier now. "I'll call you in a little bit. Let's figure out when we can meet up."

They exchanged a few more words before hanging up, and as Dave put the phone back in its receiver, his chest felt a little lighter than before. He was back. He was back in Seattle, back with Barrett, and maybe—just maybe—he was ready to start rebuilding everything he'd lost.

And it started with Iris.

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A/N

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