OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

twenty-six.

WHEN REAGAN ARRIVED at Kurt and Dave's apartment, she was exhausted by her own emotions. Her arms were heavy, hanging from the steering wheel as she stared tiredly at the Pear Street residence. For once, she didn't feel the flurry of usual energy that kindled her mood when she went to see Dave. In fact, she felt rather put off that evening.

If she could have had it her way, she would have erased Tommy from her mind permanently. It would have been easier to forget him, to put his memory in some deep, dark filing cabinet within her brain where he wouldn't be brought up again. But it would never be that easy.

Not only did Reagan work alongside Tommy, with his dad being her boss, but they indisputably had a history together. She liked him. He was a great friend and as she'd told herself from the beginning, she never wanted to hurt him.

She thought that maybe Dave had turned her into a real softie. The old her, the person who she was before Dave Grohl, might have rolled her eyes and sent the mere consideration of Tommy's feelings away. But as she gnawed on her lower lip, sitting in the seat of her car, she decided that wasn't at all true. Dave had not changed her nor had he changed the way she felt about her friends. And Tommy really had been a friend.

Had been, she repeated to herself. It was a shitty thing to think about.

Eventually, Reagan pulled herself out of her Honda and walked listlessly up the porch steps to the front door. She raised her fist to knock, but the door flew open and revealed Dave, standing in front of her with a big smile on his face.

Despite her sullenness, Reagan found it impossible not to smile when Dave did. His quality of happiness was the infectious kind and she didn't think she would ever be able to avoid it when it swooped her into its grip.

"Hi," Dave said. There it was again — his soft, kind voice that mesmerized her like a dream. He was totally equipped with an artillery of characteristics specially designed to make Reagan melt into a helpless, jean-clad puddle.

"Hey," she replied gently.

Dave's smile faltered slightly when he caught the tone of her voice. "Everything okay?"

She contemplated telling Dave why she seemed so crestfallen. She supposed that she could have scolded him for pushing her into the predicament with Tommy, but the timing didn't feel right. He'd just gotten back from Nirvana's gig overseas and she had missed him. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil their reunion.

"Everything is good," she assured him, mustering up a bigger smile.

"Okay," Dave said, taking her hand. "As long as you're happy."

He pulled her inside the apartment, which to Reagan's immediate disorientation, was dark. The only light came from an array of lit candles, their flames casting dancing shadows on the wall.

"Are you preparing to sacrifice me?" Reagan asked, looking around the living room and dropping her bag to the floor.

"That's really not my style," Dave said evenly, though a silly grin was still present on his face.

Reagan did a double take and noticed that he was dressed nicer than normal, or at least nicer by Dave's usual standard. His t-shirt had no holes in it and the jeans he wore were free of tears.

"Oh, so there's been a power outage then?" she inquired, tucking her hands into her back pockets.

Reagan moved closer to one of the candles and inspected the decorative pictures on the outside of its glass casing. They were the kind of cheap candles available at any convenience store, the ones covered in biblical images meant for prayer. The one she looked at bore a picture of Mary, the mother of Jesus, except someone had inked bloody tears falling from her eyes with red pen.