*TW: mentions of depression, suicide*
"Kurt, are you okay?"
It was just after school, and most of the other students had left. Kurt Cobain was sitting on the floor by his locker.
"Mmm. I'm fine," he said, dismissing my concern.
"Don't you have a bus to catch?"
He shrugged. "I don't give a damn. I can walk home."
"No, really," I clarified. "What's wrong?"
He looked on the verge of tears. "I told you, Stefanie! Nothing!"
I realized that he didn't want to tell me, but I persisted. "Get off of the floor," I commanded, and he did as I told.
"Well," he whispered, "everything's wrong."
"I'm here for you, Kurt."
He sighed deeply. "Well, yesterday, I had a fight with my dad. He was getting on my case about school and my future. Hell, I don't want to go to college. I want to start a band with Chris!" he almost shouted. "And when I told him that, he practically exploded. He physically hurt me, as well as psychologically. Told me to do better in school, but I think I'm dumb. I almost cried myself to sleep. Then I woke up this morning wishing I were dead. I didn't want to live."
I couldn't understand what he was going through fully, but I had to help him. Yet this was all so sudden and I was at a loss for words. I'd gone through a dark spot in my life when my father died, because I was close to him, but I couldn't imagine having an abusive dad. Kurt had it worse than I.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt like this," I breathed. He seemed to always hide his feelings under a the veneer of an average teenage boy. "But I want you to know that you're not alone. And you're not dumb. You're a genius with words and music. And I'm here for you. I promise. Just don't give up. Ever. You hear me?"
His eyes were watery and hazy blue. "It's just so unfair!" His voice echoed through the hallway as he screamed. Then he muttered an expletive under his breath. "I want to kill myself."
"It gets better. Just promise you'll stay safe." I gave him my hand and he took it in his.
"I promise."
This was like a turning point in my relationship with Kurt. I realized how much he needed my help. True, he had friends, but I took it as my responsibility to be there for him. When he told me he wanted to die, I was scared. I couldn't imagine going to school one day and learning that he killed himself.
The only person who asked about Kurt was Pam. It was a few days before the day we got off before Christmas Break, and Pam was gushing about the new clothes she'd gotten for Hannukah. Then suddenly she changed the topic:
"How's Cobain?"
It hit me by surprise. "Oh. He's kinda upset," I admitted.
"Yeah, I see. I kinda feel bad for him, even though he seems like a jerk. He goes through a lot of teasing."
A jerk?! Kurt was probably the most down-to-earth guy I'd ever met. "He does. And his dad's really hard on him."
Pam asked, "Do you like Kurt?" Ugh, not that question.
"What?"
"You know. Do you like him?"
I let out a huge gasp of air. "Duh. He's my friend. He's really sweet actually," I told her.
"But do you have a crush on him?"
"Nope." I was being completely serious though. I didn't ever see myself with him. "I'm quite happy with Kevin, you know."
"I know," she said plainly.
But every time I saw Kurt, he was in the same mood. He wasn't himself at lunch anymore. Always silent, eating less food, sunken eyes. He didn't even write his poems anymore.
I couldn't bear seeing him like this.