stories from the city; damon albarn

50- Trainspotting

Trainspotting is a colloquial 80's British Term that means "being obsessed with any or one trivial topic". Whether it be drugs, football or Sean Connery movies. Someone said that once. Damon felt like he'd been through hell watching that movie and that perhaps the one time he found any peace was when he made eye contact with Chloe.

They hadn't looked at one another again, remaining fixated on the film for the rest of the night and when it was over, they headed their separate ways. Chloe and Ewan were watching Ewan make new friends and receive claps on the back for his performance, while Justine and Damon were getting into a fucking taxi and fighting.

Justine had loved the movie but now wanted to go home, Damon on the flip side of things, did not love the movie and wanted to stay. He knew that Ewan would be busy and desperately wanted to talk to Chloe. He needed to. It's all he wanted after tonight.

"You didn't even like the movie, why the hell do you want to stay?" She complains, walking out of the building, watching Damon stick behind

"Because I want to chat unlike you. I need to talk after seeing that mess." He says seething

"Chat with who? Practically everyone here hates you. Maybe except for Chloe and Ewan. Well he only tolerates you because of her." She says bluntly

"Justine, for once would you just shut up?" He says angrily

She scoffs "I'm pointing out the obvious. You only care about yourself. You're selfish. And now you won't even follow your girlfriend home. You want to talk about you. To people who don't give two shits."

"That's how I feel about you when I tour." He sneers, getting angry as she stops in her tracks.

"Excuse you?"

"You're a miserable cunt Justine." He yells, glad that nobody is in the deserted area they've occupied for this fight. "You think I like talking about myself? You only talk about me these days. Whether it's how I'm driving you up the wall, or how I'm a pop star and you're a rockstar. Or how you think I feel about fucking socks. And then you don't tell me this to my face," he exclaims, waving his hands around

"You talk about me in interviews! You drag me out to big fucking movie premieres like this. You pimp me out, like I'm a fucking pony you've rented since 1991. Don't act like this is an ego boost for me, when I'm a career boost for you." He says running a hand through his hair

She looks at him strangely and stares at him before starting to walk away "No. I'm not doing this tonight. Not with you of all fucking people."

"What does that mean?" He asks

She turns around, an exasperated look on her face "Damon, all I do is fight people on the merit of my own talent and career these days. I'm sure you never have to deal with people saying 'did Justine right this?' Or 'Justine had to have composed this', but I do. All the time."

"It's gotten to the point where I just assume that if I do an interview it's going to be about you, or that cuck from Oasis talking about me! I'm being defined by you, in photos, reviews everything. I used to like it!" She admits "I liked the attention I got at first it was great but now, it just makes me feel like nothing at all."

She keeps going, her voice getting softer "I used to love going out in public with you. Now I avoid it like the plague. I don't think I'm happy with you. Not even now. Not when we're high. You don't even seem interested in sex anymore. You're a lump. You don't even write."

"Then why the fuck am I here?" He says slowly "you can leave you know? You don't need to stay,"

"Don't you have anything to say?" She asks

"No. I don't. You've said it all Justine. You really spelled it out for me." He says, sounding upset

"Really?" She says, sounding angry once again

"Yeah! I get it. You don't like being associated with me. And it's my fault people don't think you write your shit. It's my fault people follow us. It's my fault. It's my fault." He yells

"You're acting like a child Damon. All of those things, you're capable of saying it's not true, or it's wrong. And you can say no, it's not hard."

He narrows his eyes

"You don't get it Damon. It's guilty to live with you, let alone be around you. You feel shitty doing it. Especially when every girl in the world would apparently kill to be me, and fuck you, and be a great girlfriend. But I can't. I can't find you attractive when you don't seem to pull towards me. I don't even like you as a person anymore. You changed."

He rolls his eyes "it's not exactly 1991 again. I had to grow up Justine. Be the person I'm meant to be."

She stares at him blankly "Were you meant to be this cruel?"

"I'm not doing this. Not with you." He says, trying to repeat the same words she had just said to him.

"Fine. We can talk about this later."

Damon never wanted to talk about this again. In fact he never wanted to see Justine again. Especially knowing that she was going to go to their apartment and shoot up. He didn't understand how she could, especially after seeing the movie they had just watched.

It'd be damn near impossible.

So he watched as she walked off, undeniably pissed with the conversation they'd just had with one another. Neither of them realizing how disconnected they truly were from the other. It stung in some ways.

Now he wasn't in the mood for talking.

But he didn't want to follow after Justine, so he slid back towards the realm of the living, where he saw the dozens of viewers and the cast of Trainspotting wandering amuck, as if they didn't have a care in the world.