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

2002

It's been nearly six months since Alex and Melanie started dating, and over one month since he and I have spoken.

I've done a bang up job of tolerating Melanie, if I do say so myself. She's vapid, and obnoxious, and willingly listens to American pop like it's tolerable. Worse than that, she's always around. Every time I hang out with Alex, or we're in a group, or we go to a party, she's there. I haven't hung out with him alone in about four months, because Matt told me she doesn't like him to– she gets jealous and pouts. And I never fought it, never complained, or even said anything to Alex about how mad it all is– that he's letting this big-boobed-bird dictate his life.

But about a month ago we got tickets to see the Strokes in Leeds– just the two of us. Melanie's not a fan, Matt was away in London looking at schools, but there wasn't a chance we were going to miss them.

Just two days before it though, Alex told me he couldn't go– to give my ticket to someone else. I was gutted, but more than that, I was angry.

I marched over to his house without warning, and when Penny let me in, I went up to his room and barged right in without knocking. And there he was, sitting on his bed, plucking away at his guitar, and he looked shocked to see me, soft in sweats and messy hair, but I wanted to spit on him.

"Why can't you go to the Strokes?" I demanded, closing the door behind me, folding my arms as I rounded on him.

"What–"

"We've had these tickets for weeks," I insisted. "Why can't you go all of a sudden?" I didn't even let him answer, just steamrolled right over him and said, "Is it Melanie?"

He looked annoyed then, as he put his guitar aside and stared up at me.

"Because you've thrown me over for her enough times since the spring," I went on. "I'm not stupid."

"No, but you are barkin'!"

I rolled my eyes. "Why can't you go to the Strokes then?"

He didn't answer for a long time, and we just stared at each other, breathing angrily. I knew I was right, and I knew that was why he wasn't answering, and it gave me immense satisfaction.

"She needs me–"

"You're a twat."

He looked like I had just slapped him.

"I never thought you would let some girl control you," I said, and there was disdain in my voice.

I couldn't help it. It was months of anger, and hurt, and rejection bubbling out with my words. It was finally getting back at him for fooling around with me and then dumping me for her, without even a conversation. It was the fact that he had never even mentioned what had happened between us in any way, and now was acting like it had never happened at all.

"Are you jealous or somethin'?"

I could have killed him.

"Is this because of what happened last year?" he was spitting fire too now, saying things that were meant to scathe, meant to burn– and they did. "You think I'm your boyfriend or somethin' now?"

I could not form words right away. I was blind with rage.

"Fuck you, Alex," I said, trembling with so much anger I knew I was about to start crying.

I didn't wait for him to say anything else, or wait for him to possibly see me cry. Instead, I turned on my heel and slammed his door, running out of the house before his mum could ask what was wrong.