Love is a Laserquest - Alex Turner/Arctic Monkeys Fan Fiction

2009

I get to Chloe's house late the night before Christmas Eve, and when I walk in, there are clusters of people I don't know, clouds of cigarette smoke, and red and green garland as far as the eye can see. Lady Gaga starts blaring from the speakers as I make myself a vodka soda, and a bolt of deja vu hits me between the eyes. Aside from the music, it could be a weekend during sixth form– Chloe's house, the bad music, the alcohol– and it makes me feel sad for how much I miss it.

A hand reaches around me, grabs the freshly made vodka soda out of my hand, and I spin around, annoyed, and then throw my arms around him when I see his stupid, cheeky face.

"Alex!"

"When did you get in?"

"To Sheffield, or here?"

"Both," he says, and takes another drink from my cup, so I just turn and make another.

"Today, and just now," I reply, splashing a generous amount of vodka into my new cup. "Are you staying with your mum and dad?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Alexa?" I stare into the bubble and fizz of seltzer being poured when I ask it, hoping he'll say she's with her family, in London, still in New York.

"She's 'round," he says, eyes scanning the party briefly. "With Matt, I think– they were talking to Chloe."

I turn to him and take a gulp from my cup before saying, "I don't know about that 'air, Al." It's longer than I've ever seen it, and shaggy. "You look like Led Zeppelin."

"Led Zeppelin's not a person, Lil," he replies, smirking at me crookedly, making my stomach flip involuntarily.

Fuck, I had hoped those surprise stomach acrobatics were a thing of the past.

Another gulp of vodka.

"No shit," I say. "How's work?"

"I'm working on some music for a movie," he tells me, leans against the kitchen counter next to me, his arm parallel, flush, warm against my own. "I think I'll be in London to do some recordin' on it."

"That's great!"

"Yeah," he replies, eyes focused squarely on mine. "I think you'll like it."

"Lily!"

Suddenly, Alexa's thin, angular arms are encircling me, her hair smelling like roses, her sequined shift dress catching the light like a disco ball.

"How are you?" she asks, smiling brightly. "It's been ages!"

"I'm good!" I reply, feeling the collision of warmth and self-doubt from being around Alexa. She's so genuinely kind and funny and likable, but so bloody beautiful.

"How's King's College?" she asks, sipping her own drink– some fizzy, golden wine.

Fuck. This again.

"You're nearly done!" Alex says. "Right?"

Fuck fuck FUCK.

"Yeah," I manage to say, gulping the vodka down entirely, blood starting to go warm in my veins.

"Do you have any jobs lined up for after?"

There's a tornado of thoughts, abuzz in my brain, anxiety clawing at the sides of my stomach like bees in a hive.

See, I hadn't meant to lie. When I decided to withdraw from King's College the timing just hadn't been right to tell him. He was about to play Glastonbury! And then I pushed it off, and pushed it off, waiting for a perfect moment that never came, and then he was dating Alexa and it hurt in a way I hadn't expected– and I just couldn't bring myself to tell him I had kept the truth from him, that I was a failure, so I just didn't say anything at all.

With Alex and Alexa both looking at me expectantly, the bees in my stomach climb up my throat, make all of my skin go hot with embarrassment at my own inadequacy.

I think of the Arctic Monkeys' latest album, Humbug, and the successful tour they've just had– Alex's creative and financial and musical success with the Last Shadow Puppets, and now a movie. I think of Alexa's modeling, her hilarious, charismatic hosting with PopWorld, and then MTV (despite the cancellation) and I just feel even worse.

The two of them, making it in life, moving to New York, traveling the world, taking risks. And then me, not very far from home, cleaning people's hotel toilets for a living since leaving school, recovering from failed relationship after failed relationship, my best friend still giving me butterflies.

"I'm going to be working at a publisher's in the spring."

The lie trips out easily, spilling out of me, providing a flotation device as the entire party becomes a bottomless ocean I can no longer tread water in.

"Lils, that's brilliant!"

And then the flotation device punctures, and I realize what I've just done. I had wanted so badly to just not sink against their success, against the weight of my own failures, and now I've just buried myself deeper. How can I ever tell Alex the truth now? How can I ever undo what I've done– what I keep doing?

I suddenly feel trapped, and my throat goes tight, so I do the only thing I can think of, I pour more vodka into my cup, and gulp it down straight.