I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction) UPDATED VERSION

36 | The Airport

My heart tore in two when I saw Arielle's hand pressed against Alex's chest. They were against the wall, no more than an inch apart. Her hand danced up his neck, which had red lipstick stains on the skin and a bit of pigment on the white collar of his shirt, rubbing off pink. Everything began to hurt.

Alex told me once that the media would eventually hurt me. Although I felt the backlash, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It was him who hurt me.

Ironic how the ones closest to you could hurt you the most.

Unlike the anger I felt when we first met, this wasn't the dry, stubborn kind—it was broken anger. The type that caused your head to shut down and tears to threaten to spill behind your eyes; I brought my hand to my mouth and made a strangled, muffled sound.

Alex and I exchanged brief eye contact.

The paparazzi Collin ordered burst in, cameras flashing. Arielle pulled away. It felt as if everybody was screaming at us. I still had to follow through with the plan, or I'd know Collin would kill, or possibly sue me.

I had to say the words the manager demanded me to say. A string broke in my vocal chords.  "We're through."

I almost wanted somebody to chase after me, but nobody did. The cameras must have stayed inside an on Alex. My arms were bare and my lips were chapped and I had the ticket weighing heavily on the bag over my shoulders, running into the cold night air. 

Collin left a taxi outside waiting for me with all my stuff in the trunk. The driver flagged me down, told me we were supposed to go to LAX, and asked what was wrong. I couldn't answer.

Finally out of the small building, I was sitting in the scuffed leather seating of a vehicle, which smelled like waffles and sweat and my feet were aching. I tried to hold in the tears, but failed miserably. I seemed to fail at a lot of things. My ribs racked, and each time I swallowed in a breath my lungs burned. I assumed my nose was red, because it became stuffy. At least I couldn't smell the cab anymore. My forehead leaned against the headrest in front of me to calm down. Embarrassment settled underneath my skin. But what else could I expect? True romance couldn't be achieved, these days.

"I have cookies in the back," the driver said.

I swallowed the phlegm in my throat, caught up in my own self-loathing. "Thanks."

"Just remember that when you give me my tip."

I got changed into some cheap tourist clothes at the airport before my flight, wiped off the smudged mascara to avoid further embarrassment, and calmed down until even I couldn't notice my blotched face, but the plane ride was still long. I was filled with dread thinking about that hallway and how Collin was going to make the night appear in the media. I had a window seat, resting my pounding head on the plastic and watching the starry sky and LA pass before my eyes. It felt like a dream.

Getting back to New Mexico was difficult in the morning. As I rode in a bus back to that small neighborhood in west Albuquerque, the silence and heat inched underneath my skin. After months of being insanely busy, I never quite realized that the transition back would be so hard.

Eventually I knocked on the door to my apartment, and used my key when nobody answered. Katie must be back soon and I'll have so much to tell her. Maybe she changed her number, and that's why she never responded. I shut the door behind me.

The room had pale beige walls, small black cupboards and dirty tile flooring in the kitchen. A dying sunflower in a pot on the counter—that was new. Most of it seemed familiar, right down to the small living room, red baskets for storage under the TV stand, large windows, and empty walls we couldn't afford to decorate. A fan was blowing on the ceiling.

The guitar near the couch gave me a brief sort of pain. Katie had always played, but I picked it up and remember what Alex taught me. I slowly strummed the guitar, eyes downcast on my fingers. The music was soft. Nostalgic. I was reminded of the lyrics still in my bag.

I don't know how much time passed until Katie unlocked the door. Her brown hair swung as she entered the apartment, but fell when she saw me. "Leah?"

I put down the guitar. My chest welled up—I really missed her. "Kat!"

"What the hell are you doing here?"