(NOT fan fiction!) Kurt Cobain and Tally Fisk

Chapter Twenty-Four

I didn't mean to blow off my friends.

Well, almost blow them off.

Firstly, I had achieved almost no sleep the night before. After I made it home from our adventures in anonymous acts of kindness, Kurt was in my room.

For the first time, I really considered the implications of his near constant presence. Something had changed or was changing. Kurt had never been around this often before. So, while my life seemed to be improving, this aspect of it was getting worse.

Never before had I questioned my sanity. I never worried that something was off with my mind. Even my shrink thought I was fine in that respect.

But, my life seemed to be getting better—no, not better, but less abnormal. And yet, the elephant in the room, the Kurt in the room, was not going away.

I was seeing Kurt almost every day. And I didn't hate it. After years of telling the old ghost to get lost, now I was almost glad to see him when he popped in.

So, last night when I got home and he was sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, I just flopped down and started talking.

"Man, Tally's running us ragged," I said.

"Doing what?"

"Bettering ourselves," I laughed. "Latin, science, classic poetry, feeding the homeless."

Kurt laughed.

"So, the parasitic little butterfly murderer is trying to be Mother Teresa now?"

"She's not a parasite and the butterfly is still alive."

"Whatever you say," Kurt muttered.

He was still there the last time I opened my eyes before dozing off.

But then the nightmares came.

Over and over I awoke in a panic scarcely able to convince myself that I was safe in bed instead of being crushed in a car crash.

I'd sit up and work hard to catch my breath. Just when I thought I'd never get my heart to stop pounding so hard, I'd look over and see Kurt blowing smoke out my open window and know I was going to be okay.

Now, I'm sitting in my living room with John and Mavis, trying my best to stay awake as Frodo treks to rid the world of the evil ring.

No one's talking.

And it's not because we're all so into the movie. It's because they're mad at me.

After my sleepless night, I awoke to a phone call from Chris Belston, just after ten. He said a bunch of guys from the basketball team were going to the Y to play some ball and did I want to come?

I was in my basketball shorts and an old T-shirt almost before he finished inviting me.

After about an hour of playing, me and the guys went to grab some lunch and that's when my dad called.

"John and Mavis are here?" he said. "They said you were supposed to have a movie marathon today? They've been waiting a while now. I told them I'm sure you didn't forget..."

I made it home in record time, thanking the stars that Dad had come home on his lunch break and was there to answer the door.

But when I got here, I was not greeted with a warm welcome.

"Already too good for us," John said. "We can leave if you want to hang out with the cool kids."

I don't know what he was talking about. John is one of the cool kids.

Mavis didn't say anything. She was sitting in the recliner, feet tucked under her, hugging a throw pillow.

"Your dad just left," John continued. "Should we leave too?"

I told him no, I just needed five minutes to take a shower, and to go ahead and start the movie.

And that's where we are.

"I'm gonna make popcorn," I announce after about twenty minutes of no one uttering so much as a syllable.

As I listen to the comforting sound of bursting kernels in the microwave my mind wanders to Tally.

Tally out somewhere with Kyle.

Or in somewhere with Kyle, maybe holed up in his room, just the two of them. She's obviously not choosing me any time soon.

When I reenter the living room, the scent of butter wafting from the bowl in my hand, I see that my seat on the couch is now occupied.

"Uh..." I stammer. "Here's the popcorn."

I set the bowl on the coffee table, completely unsure of what to do next. Our couch isn't that big. With John at one end and now Kurt at the other, my only option is to cozy up right next to John.

Kurt gives me that million-dollar smile he has and raises his eyebrows quickly.

Technically, I could just sit on Kurt.

"You're blocking the view of the TV," he says to me and I try not to look at him, try not to glare at him, try not to tell him to move his ethereal self elsewhere.

I shoot him a quick look and the seat myself on the floor.

"Too good to even sit on the same couch as me?" John says, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

"Nah," I say. "I just want to stretch out."

I lay down with my hands behind my head and act absorbed in the movie.

"You're being a royal jerk," I hear Kurt say.

For so long I'd been able to completely ignore him almost every time he spoke to me just so I wouldn't get caught talking to him again. Now, at this moment, I have to bite my lips shut. I'm so close to not caring anymore and telling him what I think right in front of my friends.

"It's your prerogative," he says from his spot on the couch. "But you're about to lose everything."

I smell the smoke.

It's unfathomable to me that John and Mavis don't smell it.

"But maybe I'll just hang out and see how it all plays out for you."

I jump to my feet and stalk to my room, pacing.

A minute goes by and then Kurt joins me, leaning against the door frame, pushing his hair out of his face.

"You need to leave," I whisper.

He laughs. "If I leave, I'll be the only friend you have left by the end of the day. You need my help. Your friends are ticked."

I scrub my face with the palms of my hands.

"So, I was late," I hiss. "I showed up as soon as I realized. I dropped everything and rushed home."

"Oh, well, then you deserve a trophy. You dropped the in crowd for the losers. Sainthood awaits."

"This is so not a big deal," I protest.

"Obviously you think it is, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Then John calls, "Are you talking to somebody in there?"

Stupid ghost...

"No. Yes. Myself, I guess," I call back. Then I glare at Kurt. "Don't you have a gravestone to take a nap under? Get out of my house."

I rejoin the movie-watchers.

"Nice bracelets," Kurt calls after me.

My hand reaches to fiddle with the friendship bracelets. I glance at Mavis's matching bracelet as I reclaim my spot on the couch.

I feel like I should apologize to my friends.

But I don't.

Why should I?

Forgetting plans isn't a crime.