Stay | Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

One- You Cannot Turn Away, But Nice Try.

There were a million things I expected when I walked into the Hellcat Bar on Friday night.  I expected to see the usual drunk kids milling about.  I expected some shitty local band to be playing on the tiny stage that hadn't heard good music since the lads left town.  I expected the usual flirtatious remarks from Lue, the barman who'd worked there for as long as I can remember.  And I'm sure he expected me to roll my eyes like I always did.  I expected to order a Dandelion and Burdock and sit alone at the bar like I did every Friday night.

But what I hadn't expected was to see Alex Turner.

And to be completely truthful, I didn't exactly want to see him.  But if there is one thing I've learned about life, it's that it doesn't give a shit about what you want. 

I was sitting at the bar, messing with the straw in my can as Lue talked to me about the weather (which he always did, even though it was perpetually rainy this time of year) when I heard a voice behind me.

It was low and I didn't recognize it, so I stayed put.  The crowd at Hellcat was usually a bit younger than me, so any hints of flirtatiousness were met by my cold shoulder.  I didn't really date, especially not bar-dwelling younger lads.

I heard the voice again, and I ignored it and tried to focus on what Lue was saying.  But then the voice said a single word and  everything around me seemed to stop completely.

"Dav."

I froze.

There was only one person in the whole universe that called me that horrible nickname.  And when it hit me just who it was, my blood went cold.

It had been years since I'd heard that voice in person. 

"Bloody hell," the voice said. "Is that you?"

I turned around, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

Standing there was Alex. 

My Alex.

No.  Not my Alex.  Not anymore.

He didn't look a thing like himself.  He was no longer gangly and thin, with scruffy hair and wide eyes.  He looked like somebody else entirely.

His dark hair was slicked back on the sides and twisted into a quiff that hung over his forehead.  He was taller and more muscular now, wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans.  He radiated sex appeal.  Literally oozed it.

Standing there in the dim lights of the pub, any traces of my Alex were gone.  And in his place was a complete stranger.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to run out of the door or run into his arms.

He just stood there, looking me over with this disbelieving smile.  As if seeing me in the town we grew up in was such a shock.  He was the one who'd left and never looked back.  Not me.

But if there was one thing I'd become good at over the years, it was acting like Alex Turner meant absolutely nothing to me. 

So I just smiled.  "Look who it fucking is.  Are you just gonna stand there, or-"

But he already had his arms around me before I could finish my sentence.  It was a brief hug, nothing like the ones he used to give me.

But then he ruffled my hair.  Something he used to do that drove me absolutely fucking mad.  But I couldn't be angry about it.  It was the only sign of the old Alex I'd gotten so far.

He was grinning when we pulled back, and for a second he looked like himself.  But then he spoke and it was gone.

"Emilia Davenport," he said, looking me up and down as I smoothed my hair out.  "How in the hell are ye?"