FOR TOMORROW, damon albarn

05 party

DECEMBER 1995

Annette's hotel room was a dump. That was one word to describe it.

Clothes were strewn across the room, across the bed, across the floor. The lamp barely even produced any light and it cast a dim glow which really didn't help her calm down. Each floorboard creaked under her toes and the curtain was hanging on to the railing with every inch of its strength.

She'd been trying to pick out some clothes for the party but none of the bits and pieces she brought worked. The majority of her clothes were very informal and she didn't expect that there was going to be some massive celebration party before Wembley. It was stressing her out. As she attempted to piece together something mildly interesting, there was a knock at the door. She groaned at the sound. She really felt like ignoring whoever it was but she ignored her thoughts and made her way towards the disgusting door. The paint was peeling off and it stank like a boys' toilet.

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob and she tried not to think about the hands that had touched it prior. Instead, she just pulled open the door to be met with a rather scary face.

"Liam," she said, not sure if she was angry or glad to see him.

His face was almost as bad as Damon's but the bruise was already fading away. Damon's was definitely going to last a long time after such a brutal punch.

"I've fucked things up. I know." He closed the door behind him, taking a look around the room then took a whiff of it. It smelt better than his rehearsal studio so if he said a single word about it smelling like-

"Stinks of shit. Absolutely mingin'. Next time you should ask me to get you a room like." His Macunian accent came out in all its glory as he spoke those words.

"Your rehearsal rooms smell like a fucking sewer so don't even start."

"That's not true."

"It really is."

There was a short silence. Liam was walking around the room, traipsing about. Annette thought that he was trying to find something to say. Maybe he thought that by looking around, it would spark some kind of thought but he ended up just sitting down on the bed, evoking a huge squeak.

"'Could've at least asked me to get you some nice pillows or summat." He played with pillows, squeezing them and punching them. He finally found a thing to speak up about but then he went silent again.

Annette sat beside him on the bed. He turned to face her, the dark purple bruise on his jawline looking a more violet shade beneath the crappy lamp. His hair had grown slightly over the past week and it fell over his eyes, almost shielding his expression.

"Why are you here?" Annette asked him straight up. She was tired of the silent treatment.

He bowed his head down, now seemingly very interested in the carpeted floor.

"Liam?" She said his name softly. His head snapped up again and she was caught by those scarily blue eyes. He was looking up and down her face, trying to find some words lodged between her features, trying to search for a way to spill out his thoughts.

It was no use, so instead, he kissed her.

Annette didn't know what to do. She quite liked the taste of toothpaste his mouth provided and the way he closed his eyes as if he was taking in every sensation. His hair was falling over her forehead and his hands were resting on her sides.

When she pulled away, he still wouldn't say a single word.

"I'm really confused, Liam," Annette said, as he rested his forehead upon hers. "You have to—"