Perfumed Secrets | Kurt Cobain

I know that we've got problems, I plan to address them another day

The world had narrowed to this—needle, bed, Kurt. Time had lost its meaning; whatever was outside seemed distant and inconsequential. The days leading up to the start of the Nevermind's mixing had faded into one another, a string of slow, heavy moments spent just getting high. Faye would barely leave the room. She didn't want to. Or felt like needed to. The part of her that had once thought about stopping, that had worried about the outrun, had long departured.

They had fallen into a rhythm, one that wasn't only about the drugs, but also the strange closeness that came with it. It was almost comforting. They didn't have to talk much about anything real. They had each other and the needle. He would show her how to prepare the gear, guiding her hands as she fetched water or stirred the mixture. Her body would now feel the rush before it even hit.

"Heat it just enough," Kurt murmured, watching her closely. "Not too much. You don't wanna burn it." 

Faye focused on the lighter, her hand firm as she followed his instruction, the flicker of the flame illuminating the spoon in her hand. His voice was anchored, calm. Almost like he was teaching her something important.

She drew the content into the syringes and handed it back to him. He still took care of the actual shot—some part of her was relieved by that, as if it gave him control over the situation. It alleviated her guilt in a complicated way. Maybe that's what made it feel less terrifying, like it was okay as long as he was the one doing it for her. The rush hit and she leaned back against the wall, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm in a movie," she mused, her voice dreamy. "A fucked up debut."

"Coming soon to theaters next to you," he replied with a slight smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement as he untied his arm.

"Yeah, the kind no one wants to see."

-x-

"Hello?" she murmured, still groggy. Faye jolted to the sharp ringing of the telephone, the sound slicing through the fog. She couldn't tell how long she had been off.

"Faye? It's Mom. I want to check if we could push dinner to nine."

"Uh, yeah, sure," she stammered. She didn't understand what her mother was talking about. "I forgot about it for a minute."

"We agreed on it two days ago," Marie reminded her, sensing her words didn't make much sense. "Are you busy?"

She fumbled for her thoughts, scrambling to piece together a coherent response. "Right, right! Of course. We'll be there."

Her mother paused, and Faye could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. "Are you sure everything's okay? You sound different."

"Everything's fine, Mom, I was just taking a nap," she quickly replied, injecting an upbeat note into her voice. "I'll see you later."

Faye grabbed Kurt's wrist, turning his arm to check the time on his watch. It was past seven. They had been knocked out for hours, a blissful but dangerous surrender.

She shook him, trying to rouse him from his sleep. "Kurt, wake up. It's Sunday."

"So?" He stirred, blinking at her through bleary eyes.

"We have this dinner thing," she explained matter-of-factly. "I forgot all about it."

"Dinner? Where?"

"At my Mom's. We need to get ready."

Kurt rubbed his face. "You think she'll care if we're late?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to give her a reason to get suspicious."