one-hundred-forty-two.

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           AS LINDY PREPARED for bed, she noticed that Kurt was nowhere to be found despite him having told her earlier that he was exhausted. She stood at her bedside, slipping into an old Scratch Acid t-shirt of Kurt's and long pair of pajama bottoms. She supposed that she could have gone to bed alone, but the action felt wrong. She wanted to be next to Kurt that night rather than by herself.

Lindy left their bedroom, slinking down the hallway and waiting for her ears to identify the usual sound of guitar strumming coming from his music room. But there was nothing.

She decided to check there anyway; as much as Kurt loved late night television, she didn't envision him to be downstairs, tempering his mind from the events of such a long day.

Rounding one of the corners to the hall, Lindy spied the music room door opened to a minuscule crack. There were no lights on in the room, and she wondered momentarily if Kurt had perhaps fallen asleep rehearsing some lyrics. With gentle hands, she pushed the door open and allowed herself in.

He was there, laying on his small couch in the dark with his hands across his chest. Moonlight from the window drenched the room in hues of black and white, and Kurt seemed hypnotized by the night sky. Even when Lindy entered, he did not look away from the stars, instead keeping his vision trained on whatever had him so entranced.

He looked so at peace lying there that Lindy almost said nothing and turned back around. She would have happily gone to bed by herself knowing Kurt was at least okay, looking unbothered on his couch and surrounded by his instruments.

"Hey," she said, lilting her voice to a whisper, unable to not at least say goodnight. It didn't feel right to speak at full volume when everything around them was so tranquil.

Kurt looked towards Lindy, not even moving his head. He didn't smile, but his expression was smooth, desolate of trouble.

"Hey," he said back.

"Coming to bed anytime soon?"

Kurt's eyes found the sky once more as if it called to him, tugging his span of attention back in to its captivating mystery. In his flannel, Kurt looked warm and content to watch the heavens until the morning sun rose.

"In a little. I was just hanging out in here."

He picked himself up and moved over several inches, making space for Lindy. She smiled, knowing that the sight of them both crammed onto the tiny loveseat would have been hilarious from a different perspective. But Kurt was small, so that was an advantage to her snuggling up beside him.

She joined him, laying down and pressing her body to his. He fit so neatly against her, and their shared warmth was comfort at its finest. The light of the moon bathed their faces in white, leading Lindy to decide that Kurt appeared borderline angelic in the luminescence. Being over fifty years old had nothing on his good looks.

"I could fall asleep here," Lindy muttered, nuzzling into his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"Me too," Kurt agreed. He twisted his face downwards and kissed Lindy's forehead, thankful that she had joined him. It turned out that he really didn't want to be alone after all.

Lindy didn't fall asleep though she certainly felt like she could. They both said nothing, but there was no dire need to fill the air with words when the quiet felt so nice. She traced her fingers up and down along his chest and recalled a memory that surprisingly was not deeply buried in her head. It had to do with rivers, hills and roads . . .

"Do you know what I was thinking about today?" Kurt said, capturing Lindy's attention back to him. She looked up, her nose skimming his jawline.

"What?"

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now