I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction) UPDATED VERSION

22 | Infatuation

"So, have anything planned for tonight?"

Alex licked his lower lip without realizing and turned on the television. "We're going with a horror movie to start. A classic, I might add. I watched it when it came out—I was thirteen. You'll see when it comes on."

My head tilted. "Horror? Interesting choice."

Alex sunk back on the pillows behind him. "Well, you see, I'm trying to get you scared enough to lean against me during the film."

"Hm, that's cute." My lips were stretching. "If anything, you'll be biting your nails the entire time."

"If that's how it is, so be it, darling."

We sat up on the bed in our pajamas. We both had fuzzy socks that may or may not have accidentally nudged each other through out the movie. He made hot chocolate halfway through and brought out whip cream he bought earlier from the mini-fridge. The mugs were hot in our hands as we sipped, and Alex had accidentally got some on his nose, and I wiped it off. Even thought it was dark, I could still see pink rise on his cheeks.

After we finished the drinks, I did end up leaning against him. His shoulder was warm and I was able to keep my head on his chest, and my legs rested over his. It was hard to focus on the movie—we kept getting closer to each other until it finished. It was still a bit scary, so we needed to turn on the lights afterwards, although neither addressed that fact.

We sat cross-legged on the bed. I could tell reporters had been filtering in and out near the window, but we also did not address that. My mind was... elsewhere.

"And how was your day? What had you been doing?" I set my mug down on the bedside table. Only a little bit of liquid silted at the bottom of the cup in a ring along the porcelain.

"Well," he inhaled, "remember what you had said to me yesterday? You wanted to hear me play alone."

There was something oddly perfect about the way he was sitting. His pants looked too soft, his hair too clean, static rose from his shirt where I had leaned on. My heart did a small dip. "I did."

"This is the second thing I've got planned tonight." Alex got up and grabbed the guitar from its case underneath the bed, then rested it neatly underneath his arms in his lap. It looked so natural. "I, uh, spent the day working on this. It's probably rubbish, sorry."

His eyes fell to his fingers, carefully placed on the strings. He took a few breaths before starting to strum. What I came to realize was that it was a new song—for me. Alex's hair fell down on his face and fingers moved with ease across the frets. His voice could only be described as silk, and it was the only sound in the room beside the constant hum of the air conditioning and the loud beat of my chest.

There was something about it being eight at night in our pajamas, listening to the guitar. It gave me an unfamiliar happiness that I felt soften all the tension in my body. I didn't want it to end.

"I know the lyrics were pretty rushed, but it was hard to fit everything into one song. I know I should've spent more time on it. I—"

"Alex," I whispered. There were goose bumps on my arms; the corners of my eyes were damp. I was at a loss for words. "I can't believe you worked on this all day. That's insane. The song is amazing."

His smile was timid. "If it's insanity, brand me infatuated."

Butterflies edged up my throat. "Teach it to me."

Alex's stilled for a moment. His hand slipped off the guitar arm.

I moved to the edge of the bed so I could put my feet on the ground. Alex nestled the guitar in my lap. His movements were slow as he sat behind me. "Place your hand here," he mumbled, guiding my wrist, "and your fingers there."

He stopped for a second. My heartbeat was louder than ever. "And next?"

Alex looked back up at me. Blushing, he cleared his throat. Pointed. "Your other over there." I moved my hand near the strings. "Nah, not there." I tried something else. "The other way."

Oh. I moved it once more. "Here?"

I was hyperaware of his touch as he moved my hand, arm overtop mine. The sleeves caused soft friction. His head was so close to mine, his chest sometimes brushing my back.

"Right... there," Alex whispered.

I felt chills along my spine.

"I'll show you the main chords I used. It might take a while for you to learn how to pluck, though," he said. He was so close to my neck again.

I cleared my throat. "Do you have the lyrics written down somewhere?"

Alex nodded, grinning. "I'll give them to you before we leave."

The rest of the night he taught me the basics, although it was especially hard, considering I was distracted and my fingers were hurting. I had large dents in them by the end but didn't care.

It would soon be four in the morning. We had talked and laughed for the entire night—and I laughed a lot. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that I laughed a lot more with him than I had in years.