To The End - Damon Albarn

2. Madison

I take the tube home, trying to force my mind into blankness, pushing every thought of Damon as far away as I can. London rushes by in the blur of underground tunnels, and I sit, staring at nothing, clutching my bag in my lap as if it might keep me grounded. The train hums along the tracks, a familiar sound that usually comforts me, but today it’s just background noise, mixing with the din of the city that’s never truly quiet.

Damon’s face flashes again in my mind—his smirk, the one that used to feel like it was just for me, now plastered on every magazine and billboard. I clench my jaw. It’s ridiculous how he still gets under my skin, even after all these years. I shouldn’t care, I tell myself again. I shouldn’t, but here I am, letting it crawl back in, letting him crawl back in.

By the time I reach my stop, I’m exhausted—mentally, mostly, but my body feels heavy too. I step off the train and weave through the station, heading up the stairs and out into the brisk October evening. The streets are crowded as always, people moving in every direction, but I barely notice them. It’s like I’m floating through the city, disconnected from all of it.

When I finally reach my building, I’m relieved. It’s a shabby old place, the kind you walk past and barely give a second glance to. But it’s mine. Well, technically it’s not. I rent it, and barely manage to keep up with the payments, but it’s where I’ve carved out my little piece of the world. The flat itself is small—too small, really—and always a mess. Clothes draped over chairs, dishes piled in the sink, the kind of clutter that’s comforting in its own way. It’s lived-in, and that’s enough for me.

I drop my bag by the door and kick off my shoes, heading straight to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. The kettle whistles, and I lean against the counter, listening to the familiar sound, grateful for the quiet of home. It’s messy, it’s cramped, but it’s mine.

Just as I’m about to sink into the worn-out armchair by the window, the phone rings. I glance at the caller ID, and of course, it’s Madison.

I hesitate for a second before answering. I already know what she’s going to say, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood for it.

“Alexa! ’Bout time you picked up!” Madison’s voice is loud and full of excitement, the kind of energy she always seems to carry around like it’s contagious.

“Hi, Mads,” I say, sinking into the chair and cradling the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What d’you mean what’s up? I’ve been waitin’ for you to get your arse out of that flat for days!” Her heavy London accent rolls over the words, every syllable buzzing with enthusiasm. “I’m at the pub right now—O’Malley’s—you *have* to come down! No excuses this time, love. You’ve been hidin’ away far too long, and it’s Friday!”

I let out a long breath, already shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “I don’t know, Mads. I’m knackered. Been a long day, you know?”

“Don’t gimme that rubbish!” she laughs, her voice bright and full of life, as if she’s standing right in front of me, hands on her hips. “You say that every bloody time. You’re gonna waste away in that flat if you don’t get out once in a while. I’m not takin’ no for an answer, alright? I won’t let you rot away in there.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. Madison always knows how to wear me down, in the most loving, infuriating way possible. She’s this whirlwind of energy, the kind of girl who walks into a room and everyone notices. Gorgeous, too—tall, blonde, eyes that practically sparkle. She could have anyone as a best friend, really. She’s surrounded by people all the time. Yet, somehow, she chose me.

I still don’t understand why.

Madison and I couldn’t be more different if we tried. She’s all confidence and boldness, with an air of glamour that makes heads turn wherever she goes. She’s the center of every circle, the one with all the friends, all the attention. And me? I’m just… here. Quiet, awkward, stuck in my head half the time. But Madison has never seemed to mind. She picked me years ago and hasn’t let go since.

“I don’t know, Mads…” I start, but she cuts me off, not having any of it.

“Don’t know? Nah, you do know. You’re comin’ out tonight. I’ll be waitin’. You’ve got half an hour to drag your arse down here, yeah? O’Malley’s! Don’t make me come up there and pull you out myself!” Her voice carries that playful threat, but knowing her, it’s not entirely a joke.

I can’t help but smile, despite the tiredness. She’s impossible to argue with.

“Alright, alright. You win,” I say, laughing a little. “I’ll be there. But I’m not stayin’ long.”

“Ah, you say that every time too!” she teases, her laughter ringing through the phone. “I’ll see you soon, babe. And I swear, you’ll have fun. Trust me!”

We hang up, and I toss the phone onto the armchair, staring at the cluttered mess of my flat. There’s a part of me that just wants to crawl into bed and forget about the outside world. But Madison’s right. I’ve been hiding away too much lately, letting the days blur together, sinking into this routine that’s starting to feel more like a rut.

With a groan, I drag myself up and start getting ready. Nothing fancy—just jeans, a jumper, my old leather jacket that’s seen better days. I’m not in the mood to dress up, and with Madison, there’s no need. She’ll shine enough for both of us.

By the time I leave my flat and head back out into the crisp evening air, I feel a bit lighter. Maybe it’ll be good to get out of my head for a while.