Love Buzz
Realization
“Am I going to do this song by myself,” Kurt swiveled around in his chair, his acoustic guitar now serving as an armrest. His blue eyes were in thought, contrasting to his outfit, a carefree ensemble of a green cardigan, a white band tee, ripped jeans, and converse. But it all looked good, despite the semi-formal setting. It always looked good.
“And how good would it look,” my brain asked me perversely, “on your bedroom floor?” What?! Where did that come from? I shifted uncomfortably in my stool behind the drum kit. It wasn’t the first time I had thought things like this about my band mate/best friend, and by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be the last. I couldn’t help but agree with my mind, though; Kurt was pretty attractive. His blue eyes drew you in like bait while his mouth moved with such fluidity when he was talking that it would be hard to restrain from kissing him. Not to mention the golden hair…
Wait, what? I wasn’t gay, and I definitely was not in love with Kurt Cobain. Not even a little. But why, then, was he making me feel this way? Why was I getting aroused just by looking at him? “It’s probably just from lack of sex,” I reassured myself…or, it was supposed to be reassuring.
“Are you going to not sing,” I asked the other guitarist, Pat, taking my mind off of Kurt. Pat shrugged as I turned to look back at Kurt. “Yeah, do it by yourself.”
Kurt turned back to our audience, to my relief and disappointment. Chords from the guitar in his lap resonated throughout the room as I got up from my seat. Pat followed me as I went to the side of the stage to watch Kurt’s solo performance. Krist, our bassist, just sat where he was, not noticing that Pat and I were gone. I leaned against the wall as Kurt started to sing in his beautiful --er--pretty --er…good voice. His eyes were downcast, observing what he was doing. I felt my cheeks heat up as my eyes passed over his moving lips. I lingered over his mouth before I quickly averted my vision.
“Don’t deny it,” that nasty voice said in my head. “I agree, it might not be love, but face it, you lust the pants off of him.”
I wasn’t sure if anyone saw, but I raised my eyebrow at myself, making me look like an idiot.
“I don’t love his pants,” I thought back, my eyes slipping down to his “area” and quickly back up. If my voice were a real person, it probably would have face palmed itself.
“No, you idiot! YOU WANNA FUCK KURT DONALD COBAIN INTO YOUR MATTRESS!”
My eyes widened as my voice shouted the last sentence into my ear. I even subconsciously looked around to see if anyone had heard. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks, making them warm. My eyes were glued to Kurt, who was oblivious to me. Staring at Kurt, I realized that my voice was right. Well, not in suck blatant words, but it had the general idea. But I couldn’t tell just anyone, could I?
“And how good would it look,” my brain asked me perversely, “on your bedroom floor?” What?! Where did that come from? I shifted uncomfortably in my stool behind the drum kit. It wasn’t the first time I had thought things like this about my band mate/best friend, and by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be the last. I couldn’t help but agree with my mind, though; Kurt was pretty attractive. His blue eyes drew you in like bait while his mouth moved with such fluidity when he was talking that it would be hard to restrain from kissing him. Not to mention the golden hair…
Wait, what? I wasn’t gay, and I definitely was not in love with Kurt Cobain. Not even a little. But why, then, was he making me feel this way? Why was I getting aroused just by looking at him? “It’s probably just from lack of sex,” I reassured myself…or, it was supposed to be reassuring.
“Are you going to not sing,” I asked the other guitarist, Pat, taking my mind off of Kurt. Pat shrugged as I turned to look back at Kurt. “Yeah, do it by yourself.”
Kurt turned back to our audience, to my relief and disappointment. Chords from the guitar in his lap resonated throughout the room as I got up from my seat. Pat followed me as I went to the side of the stage to watch Kurt’s solo performance. Krist, our bassist, just sat where he was, not noticing that Pat and I were gone. I leaned against the wall as Kurt started to sing in his beautiful --er--pretty --er…good voice. His eyes were downcast, observing what he was doing. I felt my cheeks heat up as my eyes passed over his moving lips. I lingered over his mouth before I quickly averted my vision.
“Don’t deny it,” that nasty voice said in my head. “I agree, it might not be love, but face it, you lust the pants off of him.”
I wasn’t sure if anyone saw, but I raised my eyebrow at myself, making me look like an idiot.
“I don’t love his pants,” I thought back, my eyes slipping down to his “area” and quickly back up. If my voice were a real person, it probably would have face palmed itself.
“No, you idiot! YOU WANNA FUCK KURT DONALD COBAIN INTO YOUR MATTRESS!”
My eyes widened as my voice shouted the last sentence into my ear. I even subconsciously looked around to see if anyone had heard. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks, making them warm. My eyes were glued to Kurt, who was oblivious to me. Staring at Kurt, I realized that my voice was right. Well, not in suck blatant words, but it had the general idea. But I couldn’t tell just anyone, could I?