SOAKED IN BLEACH - K.C.

03

ABERDEEN, WA - MAY 18TH, 1985

Kurt drove like an old man who's license probably should have been revoked every time he was in Avenelle's car. Especially the first time.

As he pulled out of the driveway and Avenelle realized that he wasn't picking up any speed, she laughed at him and pushed his leg down a little bit, taunting him and telling him to speed up. His eyes darted down to his leg and the licked on his hands. His breathing had immediately hitched. He tried his best to continue looking at the road, but he felt like he was gonna pass the fuck out.

Avenelle, looking at his face, quickly removed her hand. She was embarrassed as all hell now and Kurt looked so woozy she was worried she'd accidentally stabbed him or something and out of her visibility he was quickly gushing like a fuck ton of blood.
Just however much you have to lose to visibly start draining your soul out of your body. That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for the color of his face.

"Sorry." She quickly and quietly spoke. She was immediately ten times more embarrassed.

"It's okay." He unsteadily said.

As much as Kurt loved to put on the tough persona of a rock and roll teenager with no feelings and whatever the hell else made him seem so nonchalant and cool, he was a very self conscious guy.

He mistook the speed that Avenelle withdrew her hand for disgust in Kurt. He had always thought the world and all of its inhabitants were utterly disgusted with him, it's just how he was hard wired to think about himself back then. He thought maybe she had felt how skinny his legs were, or maybe she could feel how they were anxiously shaking to be near her while this painfully and abnormally sober.

In no way could he ever let himself believe that she wasn't disgusted with, let alone interested in him.

Kurt had gone to the same school as her in most of elementary school, and they never spoke. Then he moved, then he came back in sophomore year. They never talked. He didn't accept that now, after an hour or something of hanging out, she could have changed her mind.

Not only did they not know each other, but Kurt believed she wouldn't want to. So he didn't make the effort.

He hated himself. He really, truly, and deeply did.

That's probably all it would have taken, too. Kurt's unfortunate and assumed disgust that woudl have been given to him by Avenelle had he actually ever tried to speak to her would have actually been something better described as obsession.

Avenelle liked to study Kurt as she began to know him better. Not in the academic sort of way you might be thinking, more of an observational type.

When he yawned or laughed too hard, did his hand come up to cover his face?

When he smiled, did he have dimples on his cheeks?

Was he an animal person?

When he was upset, did his forehead scrunch?

When he listened to music, did he tap his foot? Bob his head?

She had so many questions for herself about him, ones she intended to have answered. She knew Kurt was what her soul longed for. Avenelle always knew what was best for someone. It would have been weird, really, if everyone weren't so appreciative for her always-objective guidance.