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

Oh! You Pretty Things

2014

When Alex got to London, we agreed to meet for a drink on a Thursday night, at a bar in Camden. I get home from work that afternoon feeling anxious, excited, unsure. With my flatmate still at work, I shower, make myself a drink, and blast some David Bowie to calm myself down. I try to do my makeup, tame my hair, pick out something pretty and fashionable to wear, but I'm quickly frustrated, not girly enough, capable enough– my mum left before she could teach me any of these things. So I give up when time runs out, pull my wild, blonde hair into a messy bun, hair falling around my face, swipe a single layer of mascara on my eyelashes, and throw on an oversized, navy jumper under my peacoat.

I splurge on a cab, knowing the tube will take too long, but I'm still late when I get to the bar, throwing the door open in a hurry, hit with a gust of heat and sound as I walk in. The light is dim, warm, the whole bar crimson and chocolate colored, and full of people, but my eyes scan the room, land on Alex almost right away.

I look at him for a beat, standing in the front entrance before he sees me. He's leaned against the bar, a tumbler cradled in his hand on the grainy wood. His hair is slicked back in a quiff, leather jacket turned up against the room, and his jaw is so sharp it looks like it could cut glass. It's amazing, how much he's changed– how little he resembles the gawky, silly, quiet boy from High Green– but how much he is still Alex.

My stomach flips as I walk over to him, when he turns and meets my eyes, smile spreading across his face as he stands and hugs me, picking me up and spinning me around once.

"Lils!" he says into my ear. "It's so good to see you!"

We sit at the bar and he orders me a vodka soda, leans toward me, exterior melting into the endearing and sincere Alex of High Green.

"How are you?" I ask. "How's the tour?"

"Good," he says. "It's been brilliant, actually."

"Congratulations on your Brit Award," I continue, as the bartender puts my drink in front of me. I take a sip, and Alex watches me, a smile tugging at his lips, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "Bit of a wanker with your speech though, innit?"

He slaps the bar, laughing, "I knew you would say summat."

"'That rock 'n' just won't go away,'" I mocked him, trying to mimic his voice. "'Ready to make it's way back from the sludge'... 'Looking better than ever', was it?"

He covers his face and groans, still laughing.

"Al, you're a wanker!"

He shook his head, picked up his drink. "All right, nose down, Lils."

"You dropped the mic!"

"It weren't a mic dropping speech?"

"No!" I laugh. "It was obnoxious."

"All right," he gives. "I might have had one too many– had a moment of bravado after a breakup– and I let meself go."

I nod, "That's right. I'm sorry about that."

He shrugs. "Like I said, it weren't right. We never saw each other, didn't know each other like we thought– she didn't want to sit around waiting for someone to come back from tour."

I frown as he takes a long drink, and say, "Still."

"What about you?" he turns the attention back to me. "Write any award winning novels yet? Break any poor bloke's 'eart lately?"

My stomach curdles and I gulp from my drink, nearly finishing it. "Haven't had the time," I say, hoping my whole face is bright red, though it's not technically a lie. I would write a novel, if I wasn't so exhausted every day after work, spent from hours of cleaning and making beds. "What are you working on in London?" I ask, changing the subject.