Counterfeit Children (KURT COBAIN)

17. antsy

we sat on the roof of his fathers house, it was clear but freezing. the darkness in the aberdeen streets, long after mothers put babies in bed and retreated to sewing rooms, fathers with their rum and coke, come home almost running over babies in the drive, it was elevated by the cherry on the end of kurt's cigarette.

"i feel like i grew up too fast," kurt said to me, leaning back on his shoulder in the dim moonlight.
"why do you say that? you have plenty of time to be a kid," i explained to him, prodding around the leaves with the toe of my sneaker.
"it's been 16 fucking years, i only have two more, and i'm wasting them trying to be grown. i just always felt like my parents didn't want me, that kim hated me, that you didn't like me. i wanted to prove everyone wrong." he rambled.
"i think i love you," i told him. he stayed silent for a long time, the sound of my heart thumping and the tires against the road as a beat cop patrolled our tiny town was all i could manage to croak out. he sighed after a moment, sitting up fully and taking my face in his hands, resting his lit cigarette on his leg.
"i know i love you," he said, pressing his lips against mine in a hormone driven fit. he reached to my back where my bra was, possibly to undo it, which was where i pulled away.
"gonna have to get me drunk first," i laughed nervously.
"sorry, got excited," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck and looking out over the tiny town, or what was left of it. all was still for a long time, until a light turned off at the lawrence's house.
"let's go for a walk," i offered, taking my mind off the stagnant silence that overcame us. he nodded, jumping down the 9 feet from the roof ledge to the deck and landing in a heap, clutching his shoulder.
"fuck that was loud," i whispered.
"no 'are you okay?'" he laughed a bit, pulling himself up to help me down. i ended up clutched into his chest, our bodies pressed against each other. he pressed his lips against mine again, his arms around my back. i pulled away after a couple seconds, wriggling out of his grasp.

"come on, horndog," i laughed, stepping off the stairs of his deck and trudging through the dead leaves to the street. he caught up behind me and put his cold hand in mine, we scaled through desolate streets, void of children and grandmothers gardening. the pavement was cracked and re-filled with black goo. we walked through the winding senseless streets, house numbers never going higher than 100, it was here i dreamed of city life. square streets on the 2100 block, living in a nice red brick apartment with a yappy dog. i turned to my boyfriend, inspecting him kurt's tired blue eyes focused in at a play park, he broke my hold on his hand and ran ahead of me toward the merry go round. i pulled my hair into a frazzled ponytail, running to catch up with him. i sat in the middle, my knees to my chest, and he spun us gently, getting up from his crossed legs whenever we began to go too slow.

the metal was cold under my jeans, everything was cold, my hands were turning red.
"i miss summer," i told him idly while he was trying to run the merry go round faster. i stood up, and dizzily jumped into the wood chips.
"i can turn the heat on really high back home," he said, with what i thought was a wink.

"god what's up with you lately?" i asked him, loud enough for him to hear from his spot on the slide platform.
"i don't know, all my friends are just talking about getting laid and i'm antsy. no pressure or anything," he said.
"what about that gross girl, you said you did her?" i asked him. he had told his friends that he had sex with some disgusting girl a couple weeks ago.
"i didn't actually do that," he blushed.
"yeah, thought i knew you better than that." i said, walking towards him now that i could see. he patted his lap, where i sat down, shielding myself from the cold in his arms.

"what are you doing for new years?" he asked me. i shrugged.
"it's normally just me and mom and paul, everyone else passes out,"
"would you want to hang out with me and krist? there will be alcohol," he said with a wink.
"oh my god cobain, stop trying to get into my pants," i said in fake exhaustion.
"i can't!" he said, throwing his hands up in defeat.
"i'd love to," i told him, smacking his shoulder.