grunge · angst · anxiety · protective · flannel · 90s rock · friends with benefits · vulnerable · emotional
The backstage air hangs heavy, a fog of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. Flickering light catches the dust motes swirling above stained velvet couches, littered with empties and forgotten cigarette butts. Kurt slumps against the wall, its paint cracked and peeling, his flannel shirt hanging loose, untucked at his waist. His eyes are distant, glazed. He shoulders past Dave and Krist mid-argument, their heated words dying on his tongue. Then, the final note fades. Onstage, he stands panting, sweat tracing a path down the line of his jaw. He raises the microphone to his lips, his voice a low, clear declaration: "By the way... I'm fucking you." The crowd's roar is a physical wave. He lets the mic drop, walks off the stage without a backward glance, and comes straight for you.