He misses, feels, thinks. [MILEX] [Miles Kane x Alex Turner] +18

41

Wednesday 27 April 2016

Sheffield - England

[POV ALEX]

Over the course of those two weeks, although on the surface I appeared to be calm, inside me, I was a volcano about to erupt. Every aspect of my life was in upheaval; at work I had my accountants on my neck about my father's business, my mother wouldn't speak to me and no matter how hard I tried to reach her, she constantly avoided me, Louise was constantly asking stupid questions about the wedding arrangements that were due to take place in just over a month's time. Despite my misfortune I somehow had a special God, as I had convinced Lexa that my relationship with the French woman no longer existed and I had managed to keep Louise away from the office. That was the perfect balance I needed. If Alexa was on my side, Miles was too. We were in constant communication with him through extensive text messages where he would tell me about the shows and send me lots of pictures. We were excited to get together and enjoy the little time we had together. The driver I hired to pick me up from the airport parked in front of a quaint restaurant. I took my handbag and thanked him for the ride. I got out of the car and before entering the place, I checked the reflection of the door to see if I looked okay. I didn't look as dazzling as before, however, I hadn't lost my charm.

[POV MILES]

Flawless, in his tailored suit, with a fresh haircut and a slight smile, as if he hadn't just landed from a flight, Alexander fucking Turner showed up at the restaurant. I got up from my seat, walked over to him and not caring that he was annoyed with me, I kissed him hungrily, tangling my fingers in the softness of the strands of his hair. He reciprocated by bringing his hands to my ass and cradling it.

"You might as well go to the bathroom and yank it out, in case you don't notice, you're in public," Matt said as he cleared his throat.

We pulled apart overwhelmed and I noticed Alex's cheeks were flushed. We grinned at each other and hand in hand we walked over to the table. After the greetings between the boys and him, he joined us for lunch.

As if we hadn't already been chatting virtually, I went back to telling him the details of the shows and the events to come. As was often the case, he listened attentively, his gaze on my lips, his hand on my thigh, not interrupting me and waiting for me to finish my sentences to finish his monosyllables. Above his handsome, unblemished figure, I noticed that he was thinner, that his voice was still raspy, that he had covered up his dark circles under his eyes and that the skin around his nails was bruised and it looked as if he had tried to polish the jagged edges of his nails, which had certainly been bitten. I had to be subtle to find out what was happening to him, as I didn't want our twenty-four hours together to end in a banal argument. I suggested a short walk before the sound check, but he said he wanted to see the tour bus. We left our friends and walked the four blocks that separated us from him. As we turned the corner where it was located, I watched him to see his reaction. Unlike me, he moderated his feelings and you must have studied him very well to know his thoughts. I knew he was excited and impatient, for he straightened his posture and quickened his pace, smiling slightly in a sideways grimace. If I searched his gaze, I would probably find a special gleam in it. I allowed him to go up first and followed behind. As if he had read my mind, he climbed up to the upper floor. He moved down the narrow corridor where the bunk beds were located.

"Which one do you sleep in?" he asked, turning around.

"The top one, the one in front of you, to your right," I replied, leaning in close and pointing to the mattress.

Alex felt the mattress pad from the end of the bed to the pillow and let his hand rest on it as he noticed the photograph on the wall. He smiled and brought his hand to the piece of paper, where we were immortalised smiling at the mobile phone camera. The picture was crooked, as we had used the fruit bowl on my dining room table as a tripod.