Counterfeit Children (KURT COBAIN)

21. candy-hearts

i ended up at kurt's house for the first time in weeks. we walked down the gravel driveway to a small yellow house with blankets instead of blinds on it.
"home sweet home," kurt said, opening the door to his butter colored home, which had been kicked in previously, with a credit card through the door jam.

"not much to do here anymore," kurt said, opening a box of ritz crackers.

"kurt, I swear to god if you don't eat all those crackers before they go stale I will beat your ass," a shrill voice said from behind a door. heavy footsteps barreled through the house, and my eyes landed on a stout older woman with tufts of gray hair in her blond head. she waddled out of a messy bedroom wearing a nightie with sheep on it, she clutched a small boy. soon after her eyes landed on kurt, they landed on me.

rachel's face softened and she immediately went back to her bedroom to fetch a robe before coming out to greet me warmly. she gushed on about not having seen me in years, how beautiful i became, i was a late bloomer, earning a smile from my boyfriend. she then made her way over to me, pressing the side of her face into my chest with chubby arms wrapping around my back and remarking about how tall I was.

"you're just a regular supermodel aren't ya'!" she exclaimed, gently patting my back.

his stepmother smiled real big, looking up at me with big, brown, empty eyes.

"well, remember to put the laundry in the dryer, and wash up before you sit on the furniture, " she demanded, before quickly waddling back to her bedroom, shutting the door.

"we don't have cable anymore, so you can take your pick from the tapes," kurt said, walking towards the carpeted hallway.

"or you could come to my room and get really high with me?" he offered. i swiftly followed him, he opened his bedroom door after walking up a set of stairs.

it was wood paneled, covered in clothes and a thin layer of self hatred. he rushed over to his desk to hide the notebooks on his desk.
"what's in those?" i asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"some day i'll show you when we're old and married and feel super dumb for not showing you now," he started as he retrieved his pot from a hiding place.
"but for now, top secret," he told me, flashing a boyish smile.
"until i read them without your permission,"

"god you wouldn't!" he said, putting his hand to his chest in mock horror. god this boy could roll a mean joint. he rolled it around in his hands before lighting it and inhaling. he handed it me, to which i inhaled of course coughing and spluttering. after three hits i was out of this world and flopped back onto his bed, staring at his ceiling.
"hey i'm on your ceiling," i said, pointing to the polaroid taped to the slanted part of his ceiling above his bed.
"oh yeah, hope that's not weird. i like seeing you before i sleep," he said, smoking the rest of the joint and then laying beside me.
"i have a picture of you above my desk, it's not weird," i said, grabbing at his hand. he faced me, looking me in the eyes. i prepared for a serious conversation before he quietly informed me,
"you know it's up there so i can pretend my pillow is you right?" he laughed.
"you're adorable,"
"it's because i love you!"
i smacked his arm gently and he let go of my hand.
"shit not for long, the way you treat me," he joked. i shut my eyes after a long moment.
"god what more do you want from me?" i laughed.
"your soul so i can sell it to satan for a bowl of candy hearts," he said matter-of-factly.

"fuck oh yeah, i missed valentine's day," he said, smacking his forehead.
"it's cool, i didn't even notice," i reassured him.
"i'll just have to make your birthday special," i added. his face turned bright pink.
"not like that, sicko," i laughed. he returned it with a pout.