Do Me a Favour - Alex Turner

55. Day Off

As I found my seat, a window seat, I stared out at the runway, the lights reflecting off the tarmac in the fading light. The tears pricked at my eyes again, and I couldn't help but think about how everyone had become like family. It was hard to accept that this chapter was ending, that our time together was just... over.

I put in my headphones, hoping to find some solace in the music. As the melodies filled my ears, I let my head rest against the cool window. The plane's hum and the music mixed together, creating a bittersweet soundtrack to my thoughts. Every song seemed to bring back a memory: late-night laughs, shared meals, and the many moments of camaraderie and love that we had experienced.

The tears flowed freely now, but I didn't bother to wipe them away. It was okay to be sad, I told myself. It was okay to grieve the end of something beautiful. I let the music carry me through the emotions, feeling each note deeply.

As the plane began to taxi and then took off, I watched the city lights grow smaller below me, the distance between me and my friends increasing with every second. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, knowing that this goodbye, while painful, was also a sign of all the wonderful memories we had created together.

*

I fell asleep somewhere over the Midwest, the gentle hum of the plane and the soothing music in my ears lulling me into a deep slumber. When I woke up, the plane was descending, and the city lights of Chicago sparkled below. The announcement that we had arrived brought a strange mix of relief and sadness.

Collecting my things, I moved through the airport in a daze. Everything felt surreal, like I was moving through a dream. I hailed a cab and sank into the back seat, staring out the window as the familiar streets of Chicago blurred past. The city that had always felt so vibrant and alive now seemed oddly quiet and distant.

When I finally arrived at my apartment, I stood at the door for a moment, the key in my hand. It felt strange to be back after so long on the road. The lock clicked, and I stepped inside. The air was still, and the silence pressed in on me. My home didn't feel like home anymore. The once-comforting walls now felt confining, and the familiar smells and sights seemed foreign.

I set my bags down and wandered through the rooms, touching familiar objects, trying to reconnect with the life I had left behind. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, I had been surrounded by friends, immersed in laughter and love. Now, the emptiness of my apartment was almost overwhelming.

I collapsed onto the couch, pulling out my phone and scrolling through the photos from the tour. Each image brought a rush of memories, and I smiled through the tears that still pricked at my eyes. I knew it would take time to adjust, to find my footing in this new reality. But for now, I let myself feel the weight of the loneliness, knowing that the bonds I had formed would always be with me, no matter the distance.

*

Feeling utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, I decided to go to bed. As I climbed into bed, the emptiness next to me was painfully noticeable. Without Alex there, the space felt vast and cold.

I grabbed his leather jacket, the one he had given me, and held it close. The familiar scent of cigarettes, liquor, and his cologne brought a rush of comfort and sorrow. I buried my face in it, allowing the memories of our time together to wash over me.

Despite the ache in my heart, the weight of the jacket against my skin was soothing. It was a small piece of him, a reminder of everything we had shared. Slowly, I began to drift off, clutching the jacket tightly. As sleep claimed me, I whispered into the darkness, "I love you, Alex." And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of our love, I finally found a semblance of peace.