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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kurt Cobain, Nirvana, or any of the real-life people/brands that are in this story, except for characters I have created or made up. I am just a very bored teenage girl who has some free time and a Nirvana obsession. Pls don't sue me Courtney**

Kurt was lonely. 

Very lonely.

It was the middle of December, which in Aberdeen, it meant that it was brutally cold and dreary. Dark and gross snow that was mixed with dirt accumulated from the roads and what was left of the ground clung to the sidewalks, pushed back by the plows. The air, which was exaggerated by harsh winds, felt like pins and needles on bare flesh, causing everyone to ridiculously bundle up. Places like the bridge, which was Kurt's favorite spot to hang out in due to its serenity and isolation, were frozen under the sheet of ice and snow, forcing him to sit in his room all day.   

Since his best friend Krist (a tall, lanky brunette that shared Kurt's love for music the strawberry-blond boy had met through the boy's equally tall, lanky and brown-haired college bond brother) had left a few weeks ago suddenly due to a "family emergency", Kurt had to deal with the constant shouting matches between his mother and her most recent tool of a boyfriend. To make matters much worse, his other friend Chad had recently fooled a girl to date him, so it was a rare occurrence to see the long-haired drummer.   

So it became routine to the sad ocean-eyed boy to sit in his room with the door locked, strumming on his beloved guitar or writing furiously into (what seemed to be) his two hundredth spiral notebook.

On a particularly boring and uninspiring Saturday afternoon, Kurt was startled by three sharp knocks on his door. Pushing the guitar off of his lap and onto his bed, he swiftly walked over to the door and opened it.

There stood his little sister, Kim, her face screwed into an annoyed look, "mom says to come downstairs. Apparently, you have a phone call."

She noticed her brother's confused look and sighed, shrugging her shoulders, "I don't know who would call you either." Kim turned and laughed. As she started down the stairs, the girl added mockingly, "maybe it's Area 51 and they want you back."

The boy chuckled softly, making sure she wouldn't be able to hear his amusement. He couldn't give her the satisfaction. 

Running his calloused hand through his hair (it had been a while since his last haircut, the blond tips kissed the tops of his shoulders, and his bangs hung over his eyes), Kurt hopped down two stairs at a time and made his way into the kitchen. The tiles were cold against his bare feet as he approached his mother, who stood there patiently with the phone, the tan cord wrapped around her long finger.

Smiling, Wendy handed the phone to her son, and quickly whispered: "it's Krist."

When he heard this, Kurt was extremely relieved. Not only does he now know his friend isn't dead, in a coma, or ignoring him, but the boy was worried the call might've been his school calling about his lack of participation in about everything. 

Gripping the plastic and bulky phone, Kurt brought it up to his ear, "Krist?"

"Hey man," the familiar voice of his best friend caused him to smile, "I'm really sorry for being MIA."

"No, it's fine, at least you're okay. You are okay, right?" There was a pause.

"Yeah, I guess," his friend began after a long pause, which worried Kurt even more. "I mean, my aunt died."

"Oh fuck- I'm so sorry man."

"It's okay, I didn't really know her. She was just a face from my childhood, y'know? It's been really hard on my mom and grandma though. But, like, it's my aunt. It kinda sucks." 

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