Chapter Text
Cozied up to the toilet
Face stuck to the floor
Alex awoke to find himself peeling his sweaty skin from his bathroom tile, lost and unmotivated. He sat up. He rubbed his face in his hands. He sighed. The toilet in front of Alex seemed to stare at him with this humiliating scowl that left him to look back down at his knees, ashamed that he woke up like this again. That he woke up again.
God, he was such a fucking mess.
Standing up, he didn’t dare look into the bowl, knowing something foul awaited him. The smell was obvious. He flushed the toilet, finding the hand towel that’s been hanging there for too long a more comforting target than whatever he threw up last night. Once the water stopped rushing in his ears, Alex grabbed some toilet paper and wiped the seat clean. Fucking gross.
He washed his hands. He dried them on that dirty ass towel he was looking at a second ago. But then he was prevented with the first challenge today would have to offer: does he look up from the sink into his reflection? Does he tilt his head up that little 30 degrees, and see how filthy whoever stared back was? He’s kidding himself. He knows he’s going to look. He just wants it to hurt more when he does.
So he does. And he’s not disappointed. Alex Turner has the sleek greased hair look he sported every day of 2013, minus the hair product he intentionally combed through it. Alex Turner has the hollowed cheeks of a Hollywood star whose life had taken a dark path (in other words, himself). Alex Turner’s eyes looked haunted. Like they had seen terrible things not one moment before, and not yet had the time to process it. He was skinny, probably at his skinniest. His short sleeve shirt didn’t fit him very well. He looked back down, thinking about how bad he probably smelled. He looked sick. He looked depressed.
He thought about splashing cold water on his face. He didn’t. Then he thought about how he should take a shower, yeah, he should definitely take a shower today. But he wouldn’t find the time. He pushed the cracked door open wider and slipped out into the hallway, before sneaking his way into his living room.
Alex’s apartment is trashed. Blankets thrown all over the couch. Crumbs everywhere. Dirty dishes. Books he swears he’s going to read. And the bottles. Dear god, there’s so many bottles everywhere. He simply hasn’t found the time to give the place a proper clean. He hasn’t found the time to do a lot of things. Wow, he must be so busy, right?
I met expectations
That i was trying to ignore
If anyone came to this apartment and took photos, he’d be screwed. If he went out in public and some reporters showed up, his reputation would be ruined. He’s always put on this persona of a nonchalant, laid back, careless rockstar. What would happen if that all got leaked? The suave, famous lady killer would be humiliated. His image, ruined. Sometimes people criticized him because the version of Alex that does interviews and shows is so different from the one that lives here. The one that is dating Miles. The real him.
But Alex was not famous because he was happy. Alex was not famous because his life is together. He’s famous because he’s talented, because he knows how to work up a crowd and charm an interviewer. He is supposed to get out there and give them a good show, have a good time and party. And then when the tour’s over he’s supposed to go home and write another album and go on tour again. God, is this all his life is? Writing, recording, touring… that’s all that ever seems to happen.
But no matter how existential his expectations make him, Alex always meets them. Alex does the job. He gets it done and he gets it done right. He could go out on stage and try to suck but nothing would happen. He’s a damn good musician, a damn good performer. He’s just not the most happy one. At least not as of late.
Wait, isn’t he supposed to be writing that new album right now? Isn’t that why he’s “taking a break” in the first place? That's why Miles isn’t here, because he’s on tour right now. The pair has never really been separate this long. They did both of the Shadow Puppets tours, and now Miles is out there performing for his latest album. Would Miles have to live like this the next time Alex goes on tour with the monkeys?
Alex shakes his head. If he thinks about Miles anymore he’s going to spiral. He did the same thing last night, actually he’s done it quite a few nights in a row now. He knows today’s binge drinking session is inevitable but there’s no need to start this early in the day, say, what time is it anyway?
When the clock tells Alex it’s 12:53 he’s ashamed of himself. He’s been feeling like that a lot lately.
But hey, that’s the rockstar lifestyle! Alex thinks to himself bitterly that he wishes everyone could see him now. Wallowing in the misery he’s cooked up for himself. Living alone in this filthy apartment, spending his life savings on booze. Well, he’s not normally alone. Normally Miles is here.
Job had such patience
I wonder, what’s that like?
Then he remembers. No, he does not have to be working on new music right now. He probably should. It would be good for him and it would make him happy. But again, he just cannot find the time.
Alex had a conversation with Matt a few months ago. That was right after the end of the last tour, right before Miles left. Before he got like this. Miles had told him not to rush it, that if he needed to take a break it’s okay. They wanted to spend time with their familes anyway. He can’t help but wonder, does he deserve the patience Matt, Jamie, and Nick show him? Has he earned the break he so desperately needed?
It doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t even feel like he was taking a break. Miles isn’t here.
Alex goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking for something to eat. He should probably eat. Miles would want him to eat. He can hear him saying it now, “ Al, please. You can’t just drink booze and cry all day. I need you to eat for me. You’re not well.” Alex hears it so vividly he turns and looks around, thinking Miles is actually here. But he’s not. Tonight’s show is in Tokyo and Alex is in New York. There are still a few more weeks left in this tour. He’s not coming home anytime soon.
Alex pulls his head out of the clouds and focuses back on the fridge. Shocker, there’s nothing there. Nothing but beer and champagne. He’s saving the champagne for when Miles gets back so he grabs a beer and looks in the cupboard. Dry pasta, refried beans, peanut butter, chicken stock… not much. They’re leftovers from when Miles was still here and would cook for the two of them almost every night. Miles is everywhere around here.
A spoonful of peanutbutter and a can of beer. What a healthy breakfast at almost 1:00 in the afternoon. He’s doing great. He needs to go to the store but… he probably can’t show himself out in public like this. Or bring himself to take a shower and change his clothes.
A knock at the door.