stories from the city; damon albarn

18-

In the following days Damon was resembling a bit of a mess, despite having just won four Brit awards, he felt like a mess over the following days.

Graham had left about a dozen voicemails, along with Alex, their management and whoever else.

Justine had not made a peep.

And Avery was growing tired of the lump sitting on the sofa. She liked Damon when he had energy, not when he was acting like a complete idiot.

"You need to get up and call your damn friends."  She mutters, as she slipped her jacket on. "Maybe you can go get a drink or something because my god, this isn't healthy."

"You of all people don't think it's okay to stay in bed for days? It's not that big of a deal."

"You have no reason. You just won four Brit awards and now you're out of coke. Along with basic groceries. You have to get up and call Graham while you're at it. I'm getting tired of answering. And he's getting tired of hearing me."

He grumbles as he gets up, slowly sitting up.

"I don't understand why you're in such a piss poor mood either. Most would feel lucky to win that many."

He rolls his eyes "Would you shut your trap already? I didn't ask you to fucking babysit me, none of that."

She scoffs.

"You'd be a corpse if I wasn't here. Look at the way you live, it was disgusting when I first moved in. You were a half step away from maggots."

Damon slumps back onto the sofa and closes his eyes, desperately trying to block out what she was saying now. Avery was nagging him in a loving and friendly way, however he was correlating it with how Justine tended to ride him about whatever she had gotten pissed with.

Hey, at least he could handle Justine on heroin.

Avery was a nightmare. You couldn't tell if she was dead, near dead or haunting your bedroom.

He wondered if that's how it was with most of her music scene, or if it was just how she was.

Justine was just calm, and more addictively loving. He liked how he felt when they were on drugs together. Sometimes he thought he could hear angels singing when they shot up in her place.

Damon shot up, eyes widening.

"I'm going to Justine's" he says, jumping off the sofa and practically dashing off to his room to get dressed. "Go out with Alex or someone tonight. I won't be back."

And within minutes- he was gone. Leaving a lonesome Avery in the abandoned apartment and to be honest, she was just happy that she'd managed to get Damon Albarn out of the house. Even if it meant that he was going to get high off his mind with Justine Frischmann.

_____

The room was dimly lit and it was messy, papers and drawings scattered around, a notebook sitting on the edge of the coffee table. A few candles lit and filling up the room with a newer and cleaner scent, replacing the staleness of Damon.

"You smell like shit." She says finally, curling up in one of her armchairs, firmly crossing her arms.

"It's been a couple days. I've been upset."

"About what? You won four awards and probably went home to a lovely lady too."

"Oh shove off about Avery. She's practically a flat mate at this point. And if you want to know, I only fucked someone who looked like her that night."

"Only a flatmate? Really?" She says sarcastically

"We're getting bored of one another. I mean seriously, how many times can you fuck your friend without getting bored? It's not real like it is with you." Damon says shrugging.

Justine looks at him curiously. "How's it real?"

"Because I love you. I have a connection with you. There's a string of fate connecting us. You and I don't get bored with one another because we're constantly digging deeper in one another."

"Then why am I not living with you?" She taunts

He wrinkles his face "we like having our own space. Besides I wouldn't want to accidentally steal your ideas." He winks at her

And before any further words, Justine and Damon had made up, practically on top of one another, rectifying their days of radio silence within the next few hours, making one another ultimately feel real.

___

Hours later, he rolled over and panted a little bit, he was naked on her carpet, everything was a little hazy, a little blurry. As he stood up, he felt slower too, and as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror he grinned.

Oh yeah. That was a lovable face.

He began to dress himself again, trying his best to put his clothes on correctly, not even bothering to tie his shoes, knowing it would've been a disaster.

From the floor, Justine pouts, beginning to stand up herself, pulling up the blanket with her.

"You don't want to stay the night?" She asks

He thinks about it for a minute before deciding that he needed to go home and sleep alone.

And so off he went, wondering into the streets of London, trying his best to not get recognized and to slip into the first taxi cab he spotted.

Luckily, after some shouting and mindless wandering, he made his way into a taxi.

His head was glaring, he could hardly get his seatbelt buckled, let alone listen to whatever the driver was shouting at him. He was more focused on the softness of the leather seats, the way his head was sinking back into the headrest.

Address.

It came to him slowly.

The man was asking for an address.

"London." He muttered softly. "I live in London." He added

This could've been helpful, had they not already been in London.

And as he swam through his brain, looking for an address, everything seemed to have evaded his memory.

Until he thought of a specific name.

It was honestly and unusual one. But it was someone who's address would be easy to find and drive to.

And it was all he could think of.