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

2008

When Alex calls me from France and tells me all about the chateau he's staying in, the wine he and Miles are drinking every day while they record, the walks he's taking in the countryside, I think he's just taking the piss– bragging. But then he invites me to come for the weekend.

"Al, I don't know," I stammer, my mobile clutched to my ear.

"It's the weekend," he cuts me off. "You can take a coupla days off to visit your mate in France, can't you? Bring all your books and do some revising with a glass of wine."

I deliberate. I don't know how easy it will be to take a weekend off from the Mannerly, and I still haven't told Alex the truth.

"Come on, you can fly with Alexa– she's coming too."

This doesn't make me want to come more. I like Alexa, but I haven't hung out with her more than a handful of times since our meeting in January, and I would prefer to have Alex to myself besides. I can't remember the last time we hung out just the two of us, messing about and talking like we used to. But I do miss him, and I know there's no use in telling him no, so I agree.

I meet Alexa at Heathrow the following Friday afternoon, and she looks positively casual-chic in her skinny jeans, ballet flats, and leather jacket. She pulls me into a hug when she sees me, and I marvel at her ability to make someone feel so wanted– like we're a couple of chums going on a trip together, and it wouldn't be the same without me. This feeling continues as we grab a drink before boarding, chatting about my writing (or lack thereof) and her modeling. Somewhere over the English Channel, she confesses her feelings of insecurity about DJing, and I vent about my difficulties writing. She thinks she has good enough music taste, but there's more to it than that, and she feels like she's shite. I tell her I lack such confidence in what I'm doing when I write that it gives me writer's block.

By the time we land in the Loire Valley, I feel like no time has passed at all. I so thoroughly enjoyed talking to Alexa, laughing and gabbing like we've known each other for years, that I hadn't even noticed the flight.

We get a car and drive to the boys' rented chateau at dusk, listening to Iggy Pop as Alexa navigates the winding, countryside roadways.

"Have you met Miles?" I ask, admiring the orange twilit sky, deepening on the horizon of farmland.

"Yeah," Alexa answers. "He's great! You haven't yet?"

"No," I tell her. "I feel like I have– Alex talks about him so much."

Alexa laughs. "They fancy each other a bit, those two."

I laugh, knowing what she means.

When we get to the chateau it's almost completely dark, but the enormous, brightly lit country home is easy to see. It's a vast estate, with empty, rolling grass stretching for miles, and elegant turrets punctuating either side of the manor. As Alexa pulls up in front of the house, next to a navy blue roadster, she seems unaffected by it. I reason that she's probably done a ton of photoshoots in places like this, but then it occurs to me– she's been here before.

Alex and Miles have been writing and recording here for weeks. Of course she's been here before.

As we get out and start to pull our things out of the boot, Alex comes outside.

"Lils! Alexa!"

He reaches me first and pulls me into a hug, smacking a kiss onto the top of my head.