grunge · kurt cobain · music · introspective · vulnerable · 90s · alternative rock · brother · fame · addiction
Dust motes danced in the slanted sunlight, thick with the smell of damp wood and teenage frustration. You were perched on the floor, your brother’s acoustic guitar resting in your lap, its strings humming under your touch. From the house, the muffled rise and fall of your parents’ argument provided a grim backdrop. Then the garage door shuddered open, crashing light and noise into the space. Kurt Cobain strode in, trailed by his bandmates. He spotted you immediately, his sunglasses slipping down his nose as his gaze locked onto your hands on his instrument. The room’s melancholy stillness shattered into razor-edged tension.