a certain romance | alex turner/arctic monkeys fanfic

chapter 5 - 21 questions

alex's point of view:

Just as the door closed she pointed towards my pale Chelsea boots. She kept on apologizing and I could almost feel her shaking, even though I stood a few feet away from her. She had her hand clasped over her mouth and her face was contorted, showing massive regret.

"No, stop it, I promise it's fine," I grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Getting a new pair of shoes really wasn't a problem for me. Truth is, I had more money than I knew what to do with. But that's not something you say to someone who you've only just met. I for one, would hate the person who goes on about the fact that what they own don't really mean that much, because they can easily replace it. Things that are replaceable really aren't something you should brag about. If a thing is replaceable it means it has lost all its intentional meaning and purpose. If the thing in question actually can't be replaced, that's what makes it special. Sadly, we live in a world where everything is replaceable. I am living proof of that. I've replaced everything that once meant something to me with other materialistic objects. I've even gone as far as replacing love with meaningless sex and the occasional use of drugs.

As my fingers tightened around her small hand she flinched slightly. Feeling the warm blood starting to spread from her hand over to mine, I remembered her injury.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot! Did I hurt you?" Now it was my turn to ramble out apologies of all sorts. The concerned look that was previously plastered over her face was now transferred onto to mine. Instead, her face shifted into a look of surprise. Her eyebrows that were wobbling with worry now knitted together in disbelief over her squinting eyes. It looked as if she was questioning why I was here, or maybe if I even was here at all.

"It's- it's okay, thank you..." The whisper was back, and she quickly diverted her eyes away from me. "Would you please let me clean your shoe for you?" she whispered as she pointed at my shoes, her eyes still staying clear of mine. I felt the corners of my lips twitch and a chuckle wanting to break through my closed mouth.

"Only if you let me clean your hand first. Wouldn't want that to get infected, now would we?" I tried to keep my voice calm, I knew that if I came on as too forceful she would decline. Her head was still directed at the floor, making her glasses slide down her nose. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, slowly raising her head. Her lips parted slightly, and she inhaled, as if she was just about to say something but quickly changed her mind. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the cogwheels turning inside her mind, as she was carefully chewing on the inside of her lip, tasting to see if the words she was about to let escape were in fact the right ones.

"Okay," Her voice was like a needle being dropped onto the carpet covered floor beneath us. If you didn't listen, you wouldn't hear it. But if you did in fact pay attention, hearing it will make you feel like you've accomplished something. In this case the accomplishment was getting a girl that was clearly doubting herself, to give in to her own words.

Her head dropped slightly again, breaking our eye contact. As her gaze lowered to her feet I noticed that mine followed. Hers was fixated on her own feet, but she was occasionally stealing guilt filled glances of my shoes. My eyes, on the other hand, noticed the fact that all her shoes were lined up neatly on the rack to my left. I watched her feet again, seeing that they were clad in a big pair of wool socks. Realization struck me and I quickly removed my shoes, putting them to the side. My sudden movement shocked her a little. She stood up straighter, letting her eyes meet mine. Just like before, she opened her mouth slightly, and took a sharp intake of breath before finally landing on the right words.

"Oh- no, you really don't have to do that. Please, keep them on. The floors here are so cold anyway!" Even when she was urging me to put my shoes on, her voice was still a whisper compared to mine.