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

2012

In between performing in Brazil and at Coachella, Alex comes home for his Dad's birthday in April.

His Mum throws a party at theirs, with champagne and games, and people spilling into the back garden. Alex and I do shots with Dad, and get silly drunk while we try to control the music. And it almost feels like old times, because his normally gelled hair is soft and undone, his new girlfriend Arielle isn't here, we're home in Sheffield, and Alex keeps finding excuses to touch me. Suddenly, it's like the last chaotic year didn't happen at all, and I can breathe.

It started in July of last summer, when he showed up at my door, when he sobbed on my couch, in the middle of the Suck it and See Tour, having just broken up with Alexa.

I didn't see the deterioration of their relationship close up. After that night with Liam, when everything went so sour, I didn't see much of them at all. They were back in New York, I was floundering through my own doomed relationship, and Alex was touring. He kept everything close to his vest, downplayed the bad. So it was an absolute shock when he told me he had ended it, and I truly thought they were either going to get back together, or Alex wasn't going to be able to cope at all.

He was undeniably sensitive and vulnerable when it came to love, though he tried to play it off aloof and cool, and I worried how he would get on. The morning after he broke up with her, he disappeared off my couch in only an hour or so, as if nothing had changed at all, as if he hadn't sobbed in my arms the night before. He was back on tour immediately, suddenly cutting the sleeves off his shirts, gelling his hair, drinking and smoking and partying harder than I had ever seen him do before. I was worried, I checked in with Matt, I sent cheerful texts and emails, and he acted as if nothing were amiss.

And then in August, when I texted Matt to ask him how Alex was really doing, Matt sent me a jaunty text: No need to worry anymore, Davis. Al has a new bird

And just like that, he was dating someone new. And I didn't judge him for it– I wasn't even sad. In fact, I was glad for the distraction. I didn't think it would amount to anything serious, but I thought it would be good for him to be focused on something other than his heartbreak. And then he started spending more and more time in L.A., in between tour stops, and suddenly she was his girlfriend, and I still hadn't even met her.

By the winter though, I had bigger concerns to deal with. Namely, I had caught Liam texting another girl. Which led to Liam confessing to having cheated on me. Which led to our break up.

"Shite, Lils," Alex said, when I told him over the phone on Christmas day. I was with Dad, Alex was in Los Angeles. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," I told him. "Weren't you the one to call him a 'right git' when you met him?"

And now, in the spring, the Suck it and See tour is finally winding down, and I'm soaking up this time with my best friend– looking forward to the boys coming back to London to start their next album, to having some more time with Alex once again.

It's after midnight when Alex sidles up to me with a freshly opened bottle of champagne, asking if I want to take a walk.

The party shows no signs of winding down, and Dad is singing karaoke on the Turner's living room television, so I agree, and we sneak out the garage door and into the dark street.

It's cool and damp outside, the perfect, clear spring night. Alex and I take turns swigging from the bottle as we wander down quiet, familiar streets, winding our way to the old park.

"Remember when we used to get pissed here?" Alex slurs, tripping into a seated position in one of the swings. "Thought we proper cool."

I sit in the seat next to him, and grab the bottle, taking a long glug from it.

"Sorry, mate," I reply. "I never stopped bein' proper cool."

He takes the bottle from me, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Just 'cause you've been spendin' all your time in L.A. doesn't mean your the authority on cool, Mr. Turner," I lob back, but the playground is spinning around me, and I suddenly want to be on steadier ground.

I get up and walk to the bench across the pebbled ground, and sit, facing Alex across the stretch of playground. My eyes can't focus very well, but I can see that he's suddenly serious, thoughtful.

"Alex?"

His dark, liquid eyes finally meet mine again, and he calls, "I wanted to talk to yeh."

My drunken stomach falls a little bit, but I don't react right away.

He gets up, starts to walk over to me as he says, "The boys and I– We're movin' to L.A."

My first thought is of Arielle, that he's moving there for her. My second thought is about the boys– it's for the music.

When he sits down next to me, I try to sound cheerful, and I say, "That's great!" It's difficult though, because I hate not having him at least a train ride away.

"Yeah," he says, but he sounds distracted. "It's the best place for our music– the best studios, the best producers."

"Of course," I confirm, grabbing his hand, trying to reassure him.

We're quiet for a long stretch, and it's uncomfortable suddenly. I get the drunken feeling that Alex is waiting for me to say something that I haven't yet– and I'm not sure what it is. It's strange though, because we've had almost this same conversation before, when he moved to New York with Alexa. But it was so different then. It wasn't this bracing moment of announcement– this halting fear and anxiety, the bated breath. It was just Alex telling me he was moving to New York because Alexa had gotten her own show. End of story.

That's it, I realize, Alex isn't sure about Los Angeles.

"Don't you want to go, Alex?"

He looks surprised when he meets my eyes, and I realize he must have had more to drink than I thought, because his pupils are practically swimming.

"Do you want me to go, Lils?"

The question practically unseats me, because I haven't said or done anything to give him the impression that I was holding him back. At least I don't think so.

"What?"

He holds my gaze for a long time, in a way that makes my heart surge into my throat– in a way that suddenly makes me think about July, when he kissed me in my flat, just after breaking up with Alexa.

"You know, if you told me to stay, I would," he whispers low, and it makes it impossible for me to catch my breath, because I didn't know that, I never would have thought that.

Does he want me to ask him to stay?

His hand is on my cheek, cupping my face, his thumb rubbing gently at my cheekbone, and it makes me shiver.

"What about Arielle?"

As soon as I've said it, I want to to take it back. What is the matter with me? Why would I say something like that to spoil the moment so brilliantly? And it has spoiled the moment, because he's drawing his hand away from me, eyes pulled down to the pebbly ground, and he's somewhere else.

"Alex, I couldn't–" I'm stammering over my words, my tongue heavy and steeped in alcohol. "I could never ask you to stay if it wasn't what you wanted– I could never do that to your music– to you."

I don't even know if he can even hear me anymore– he looks like he's focusing so intensely on the ground.

I put a hand on his knee. "Alex?"

He finally meets my eyes again, looking dazed, and he forces a smile, saying, "Thanks, Lils," and taking a gulp of the champagne.

I so desperately want to rewind the conversation– to bring it back to that moment where it seemed like he wanted me to ask him to stay in London, where it seemed like I had that power. Because now he's far away from me, and I feel absolutely, bloody powerless once more, and I miss him already.