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

A Lack of Understanding

2014

Dad and I get to the Turners' for Sunday roast around 5, and the house already smells mouth-watering. I can smell the roast chicken and gravy, the carrots simmering in a butter sauce, the fresh Yorkshire pudding, and I'm transported back to the Sundays that Dad worked and Mrs. Turner insisted I come over for dinner. Alex and I would watch a movie, from tea time to dinner time– whatever was on the telly, or whatever we could rent from the video shop– and then we would talk music, and television, and school, and laugh ourselves silly with Alex's parents over dinner. Afterward we would play a board game, or cards, or watch old VHS tapes of Doctor Who, and sometimes Dad would come round to pry me off the Turners' couch when he got done with work, and I was passed out on their throw pillows.

Mrs. Turner gives me a bone-crushing hug when she answers the door, and then Mr. Turner practically picks me up off my feet himself. They usher us in, bring us drinks in the lounge, where Mr. Turner puts on the Carpenters. And while Karen sings about rainy days and Mondays, Alex comes downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt, rumpled and casual, and I feel like a teenager again– like nothing has changed. Until things are very awkward between us, and last night creeps over my shoulder like some kind of sludge.

I rejected him. He kissed me drunkenly, possibly wanted more. And now things are weird.

Fuck.

Mr. Turner and Dad gabble away about football, politics, the crazy old lady down the lane, and I can't think of anything but Alex's hands up my shirt, against the hot skin of my stomach, and I feel my face flush. What is wrong with me?

He's joined their conversation without a problem– doesn't seem bothered, other than the fact that he's not really talking to me, or acting like he usually would with me– and I wander into the kitchen to distract myself.

"Can I help?" I ask Mrs. Turner desperately, setting my drink glass on the counter.

"Of course, love," she replies. "I'm nearly done– just finishing with these carrots. Would you mind setting the table?"

I've done this a million times as a child at the Turners', Alex grumbling that his mom was making us do chores when I was a guest, but I didn't mind. Dad didn't really force me to do anything around the house– I think he's always liked the ritual of doing dishes and cooking and doing the wash, even when Mum was still around. The normalcy of chores– in a home where it didn't sometimes feel normal because it was just me and Dad, and the ghost of mum and everything I was missing by not having her around– and the Turner home felt good to me.

Mrs. Turner asks me about London, and I'm vague and cheery, and try to ignore the guilt that gnaws at my stomach. Sometimes it feels like lying to Alex's parents is even harder than lying to him. He's a famous rockstar– I've admitted that I'm ashamed when I compare myself to him– but the Turners have practically raised me, and I know they would support my leaving university, wouldn't care what I do now, and I feel tangled and sick with the lie.

And then when everyone's sat around the table for dinner, and we're all laughing about childhood memories and the early days of the Arctic Monkeys, I can't help but feel painfully aware of the fact that Alex hasn't even looked directly at me since he came downstairs. It's a specific art form he's worked out– this ability to sort of talk to me without looking directly at me, the poker face he's got on– it would impress me if I wasn't sort of anxious, and mostly fucking annoyed.

Yeah, I rejected him. Has he never been rejected before? Does he not understand that I don't want meaningless sex with my best friend anymore– that I've grown up?

We have to leave before it's too late– because it's dark out, and it's beginning to snow, and it's a long ride to London. I leave Dad at the Turners', pink cheeked with port, and laughing with Mr. Turner about the prime minister, and I give him a kiss, and both of Alex's parents a hug and a kiss, before bundling up and getting into Alex's car in the drive.