1999

Prologue

The year was 1999, the final year of the millennium. It was a time when Y2K loomed like a specter over every household, but for Y/n Y/L/n, the turn of the century felt like a distant, insignificant thought compared to the rest of her life. The sound of Nirvana's *Nevermind* album was her anthem, and the raw energy of Kurt Cobain's voice filled her small, dimly lit bedroom.

Y/n was sprawled out on her unmade bed, lost in the words of *Smells Like Teen Spirit*. The walls around her were a patchwork of posters, a gallery of her musical idols and cinematic heroes. Kurt Cobain dominated the room, his face taped in every corner. His intense, melancholy stare echoed the parts of Y/n's soul she never dared show anyone. She had every Nirvana album, and her CD rack overflowed with more bands she loved—Pearl Jam, Radiohead, Alice in Chains, and a few cassettes from local garage bands she'd picked up at the underground shows she frequented.

Her bedroom was a chaotic haven, a place where darkness and light coexisted in equal measure. The bed was covered in a tangle of black sheets and a quilt her mother had made for her when she was a kid—one of the few remnants of her childhood she still held onto. On the floor, her combat boots lay beside a pile of clothes that she hadn't bothered to put away. A collection of vinyl records and CDs was scattered around her stereo system, which was currently blasting the song that played on repeat in her mind.

The walls were an evolving canvas, plastered with band posters and vintage movie covers. *Pulp Fiction*, *The Craft*, and *The Crow* took center stage alongside the haunting black-and-white image of Kurt Cobain. Tiny string lights zigzagged across the ceiling, casting a dim glow that barely illuminated the room. Her prized possession, a worn-out leather jacket draped over the back of her chair, still smelled faintly of cigarettes and patchouli oil—a scent that clung to her like a second skin.

Y/n wasn't like most of the girls her age. She was 19 but felt years older, like the world had already shown her too much. Life hadn't been easy, but she didn't talk about that—not with anyone. She didn't have to. Her blue eyes, particularly the left one with its striking split of colors, a unique blend of blue and green, spoke volumes. They told stories of sleepless nights, of thoughts that never stopped racing, and of a heart that had learned to put up walls from an early age.

Today, her hair was tousled and wild, falling around her face in waves. The red highlights she'd added last month were already fading, blending into her natural brown, giving her the appearance of someone who lived life on the edge, always changing, always unpredictable. She had a sharp jawline, a small nose, and lips that often curled into a smirk. At 5'6", Y/n was neither tall nor short, just average, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made her seem larger than life—like she was always on the verge of doing something reckless.

Her closet was a testament to her mood swings, a collection of clothes that ranged from dark and brooding to vibrant and rebellious. A pair of ripped jeans hung next to a vintage floral dress, and combat boots were tucked under a row of Converse sneakers. A leather skirt with metal studs was draped over a chair, a remnant of last night's outfit. She had a thing for oversized band tees, the kind you could get lost in, and they dominated her wardrobe, along with a collection of flannel shirts that never went out of style.

Y/n's style was as eclectic as her personality. Some days, she felt like embracing the darkness, wearing all black with heavy eyeliner that made her eyes pop even more. Other days, she'd throw on a crop top and a plaid skirt, feeling more playful than usual. But no matter what she wore, her favorite accessory was always the same—a silver chain necklace with a small, rusted key that hung from it. She'd found it in a thrift store when she was 14, and it had become a part of her, a symbol of something she couldn't quite define but knew she needed.

Despite the chaos in her room, Y/n was surprisingly neat when it came to her music collection. Each CD, vinyl, and cassette had its place. The music was sacred to her, a connection to something bigger than herself. She often spent hours rearranging her collection, finding the perfect order that made sense to her, even if no one else could understand it.

Her roommate, who lived on the other side of the apartment, was an enigma. They never spoke, not because of any bad blood, but because Y/n had always preferred solitude. The roommate was just another body in the space they shared, someone she barely acknowledged. They had their own lives, and Y/n was content with that. She didn't need another person to worry about, another person to let down.

Life was a blur of nights that bled into mornings, of late-night parties, concerts, and moments spent in her room, alone with her thoughts. She had friends, sure, but none of them ever got too close. She was the kind of person who showed up when it mattered, but never lingered. And that was fine with her. She liked it that way.

But as the century neared its end, Y/n couldn't help but feel like something was about to change. There was a restlessness inside her, a feeling she couldn't shake. Maybe it was the music, or the way the world seemed to be speeding up around her, but she knew she couldn't keep living this way forever. Something had to give, and soon.

As the final notes of *Smells Like Teen Spirit* faded out, Y/n sat up and stretched, glancing around her room. It was time to get out, to do something. She grabbed her leather jacket, threw it on over her Nirvana tee, and slipped into her favorite pair of jeans. She paused at the door, looking back at her sanctuary, the place where she could be herself without judgment. It was messy, chaotic, and dark—just like her. With one last look, she shut the door behind her, the music still echoing in her mind. She didn't know where she was going, but that didn't matter. The night was still young.

———

Song: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" Nirvana
(Play the music videos while reading for better experience)