Who would have thought, that I'd be here telling the story of this love. Serendipitous. Unespected. A love like a ache in the jaw that made my ordinary life somersault.
*Little challenge* find all the songs references 😉
*NOTE: I named my Y/n only w...
~ Trigger warning: sexual assault (towards the end) ~
---------- I pull my suitcase in and I close the door of my apartment behind me. I leave out a big sigh. Back to the norm. To the ordinary. Back to reality.
I'm thankful for Alex letting me stay in his home. It's way easier to fly from and to LA. He told me I didn't need to give him the keys back. "Keep them," he said, "if you want to spend the weekend, throw a party with your friends or something, while I'm gone."
Is this big? I know some of his friends have his house keys and are welcome to use it when he's not there, but they are his close friends, who he's known for years. I'm not sure how to take this, but I appreciate it. It makes me feel closer.
I take the luggage in my room and I sit on the bed feeling a sense of existential dread. I don't want this. This is bland, tedious, dull. I want the excitement of the last couple of weeks.
"Hey! Here's the VIP!" Claudia pops her head in. "Oh pffft!" "You kinda are now, at least in the fandom, I'm sure!" "Oh, hell no, please." She comes in and sits on the bed next to me. "Is it the jet lag or you're just cranky?" "Both...I think it got to my head already, Cla. I just don't want to be here." "It's normal. You'll feel better once you start your normal routine. So, the last I heard from you was after you met his parents. What happened next?"
I tell her about when we met some of his old friends at the pub and how he never acted like he's someone, but just like a friend who left town and comes back every now and then. How the people there just leave him alone, even though everyone knows him. They just say hi at most. It's kinda like they're being protective.
I tell her about our accomodation, for the few days I was there. It was a cabin on the river just out of town. A little hide-out. How cozy and relaxing it was at night. Nobody could hear us over there; we had really loud sex, and in the morning we would wake up to the birds singing. He brought his acoustic guitar and I caught him composing once again. He always keeps it vague when I ask about it. I'm curious about this "secret song." I show Claudia a picture I snapped when I sneaked on him one evening, sitting outside with his guitar and his notebook. *
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I tell her about when Alex took me around Sheffield, on a sort of Arctic Monkeys tour. When we walked by The Grapes, the place where they played their first ever concert, we stopped in front of it, as Alex told some anecdotes. It's only a pub now; the club upstairs, which hosted the live music, is now closed and it's just an apartment where the owner of the pub lives.
There was someone at the window upstairs, smoking. An older woman. Alex looked up and got her attention. "Excuse me, ma'am? I was just telling my girlfriend some stories about the club. It was where my band first played." "Oh how nice!" "Would I be able to show her where the stage was and all?" "Oh, it's just a living room now, lad. Nothing but forniture up here now," the lady replied, sorry to disappoint him.
