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

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

2014

I climb the tube steps to find it snowing, and I shiver into the down of my jacket, toes stiff in my converse. The moon is full and bright behind the clouds though, and with Stevie Nicks crooning through my headphones, the night feels magical. By the time I reach Alex's red, lacquered front door, I'm grateful though, because it really is freezing out, and the sight of his comfortable, casual appearance makes me smile.

He kisses me on the cheek and beckons me inside with a crooked half-smile. It's so warm in the house that his feet are bare at the bottom of his worn jeans, and he's in just a t-shirt. I shake my jacket off as I follow him to the kitchen, and I can hear the Zombies crooning from the living room.

I already feel like I can sink into this night like a bath.

"Wine?" he asks when we get to the kitchen.

He's already partway through a bottle of riesling, and I realize that he's buzzed because his movements are a little loose, and his hair is flopping across his forehead.

"Yes, please," I say, and he gets me a glass, pours me a generous amount.

I sip my wine while he sorts a bag of chinese takeaway onto plates, and he asks me how work was.

For a blinding moment, I think of how things would be if we were a couple– a real couple, a couple who comes home to one another and does these kinds of domestic things every day– and it disconcerts me momentarily. I tell him my day was fine, uneventful, because it's true, and ask him about his day in turn.

"Great," he says, forking rice and chicken onto a plate. "I think Miles and I might be doin' a Shadow Puppets album when we finish with the AM tour."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it's been too long, innit?" he finishes with the rice and puts the carton to the side. "He says hello, by the way."

I wonder what he told Miles about us– if he's said anything to Matt. I sip my wine and decide probably nothing, just like when we were teenagers.

"Grab the wine?" he balances both of the plates in hand, and I grab our glasses, as well as the bottle, and follow him to the table.

We tuck into our chinese and wine with lazy relish, and we talk about everything but 'us', and it's so habitual, so routine for us, that I feel slightly discouraged. When he asked if he could see me tonight I had hoped things might be different– that Rosie was right and he would realize something he hadn't before– but it's just like when we were teenagers, and I doubt if it will ever be otherwise.

Why are we so good at hooking up, and then going back to exactly the way we've always been, acting like absolutely nothing is different?

"Matt and Breanna will be 'ere in a coupla weeks," Alex tells me, pouring himself another glass of wine. "Stayin' for a while in London. I told 'im we should all grab a pint."

"I'd love to!" I reply. "I haven't seen Matt in ages."

"'E said the same," Alex smiles. "And you 'aven't seen Breanna since they got engaged."

I shake my head. "It's so strange– Matt Helders. Engaged."

Alex smirks, holding his glass of wine to his lips.

"It still feels like we're just kids, innit?" I sigh.

"Sometimes."

"Not for you, maybe," I give him a sly smile. "Rockstar that you are. But I'm still just mucking about like always."