Life With Cobain

Pot

Something is tickling my cheek. I giggle, half-asleep. It continues, tickling my cheek, neck, collarbone. It travels back to my cheek. I smile sleepily. It feels nice. What is it, anyway? I giggle again, louder. This time it stops. I groan. I like it, it was comforting. I roll over and slowly open my eyes. I'm instantly met by sparkling blue ones. Kurt's bedhead is so cute! His freshly cut hair is sticking up in little tufts, some blonde, some brown.

"Morning, Mr. Bed-Head," I tease. A smile spreads across his face.

"Morning, Mrs. Bed-Head," he teases back. Oh my God, his morning voice is really sexy. I blush. Did I just think that?

I laugh at his cleverness. I rub my eyes with the back of my hands and yawn. I'm still very tired. "Was that you tickling me?" I ask.

"Um, yeah. Sorry about that," he mumbles, his cheeks flushing. He gets up from the corner of the bed. I follow his movements as he walks across the room. Just as he's about to leave, I say: "Oh and Kurt? Thanks for, um, helping me last night. I know I must've scared the shit outta you. Sorry," I sheepishly grin. He strides back over to the bed.

"It wasn't your fault, Robi," he soothes, using my nickname. "And yeah, you scared the living crap outta me. But you're okay, that's all that matters."

"Thanks, Kurt. You're the best."

"I know I am," he kids. Silly ol' Kurt. I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, his face turning red. His hands linger on my waist for a while, before I pull away.

"Now get out," I say sternly, but in a mocking tone. He nods, smiling.

"See ya later, Robi." Kurt closes the door behind him. I strip down for the shower and climb in. The warm water hits my back, untensing my muscles. This is what school does to me. I'm flunking all my classes, and right now school seems pointless. I'm thinking of dropping out. I mean, what's the point? I'm gonna be a musician anyway. Why do I need maths and English? I can read and speak three different languages. Spanish, German and English. That's all I need. I'm thinking of learning two more. Greek and Manderin, seeing as it's the most spoken language in the world. I also hate History, but I think Greek is a pretty cool language to learn. Kurt said he also would like to be a musician. When we were little, he said he become a famous rockstar, kill himself, and go out in the blaze of glory like Jimi Hendrix. We didn't realise that it wasn't suicide that killed him at the time. We were kids. Don't judge!

After my shower, I dress in a black tank top, black jeans and some black sandals. I love black. I leave my hair curly and go down to have breakfast. Dad and Kurt are sitting at the breakfast bar, Dad with eggs, Kurt with cereal.

"Morning, Dad," I say, smiling. I give him a hug. I know, I'm a hugger.

"Morning, kiddo," he replies, hugging me back. I go straight to the fridge, grabbing a juice box and an orange. Breakfast!

"Behold! Breakfast," I say in Shakespearian English. My dad has been bugging me about eating more, so here I am. I hear Kurt laugh a little, but he doesn't look up. I slide into the seat next to him.

"Hey Blondie, what's up?" He laughs again, still not looking up. I put my finger underneath his chin, lifting his head up. His cheeks instantly warm, they go slightly red. He looks so cute and innocent, but I know he's not a virgin.

"Nothing," he mumbles, looking down again. Weirdo.

*Kurt's P.O.V.*

I try to avoid Robin's gaze. Every time I look at her, I think of the lyrics I just wrote down, and they, truly, make me blush. I haven't titled it yet, but the lyrics... I can't believe I wrote those... I literally didn't even have to think about it. I just thought about Robin, and they flowed. I need to burn them. When Dave and Robin leave the house, I'm gonna burn them. Nobody can ever find out about these. I'd die of embarrassment. Robin leaves the room for a moment, and returns with a few sheets of paper in her hand. She reads them out loud: