Across Her Universe • Alex Turner Fanfic

(43) She Broke Your Heart, Didn't She?

After all of your lovely comments I've decided to follow the fanfic until it's inevitable end!! Reading how passionate you guys are about the story makes me really really happy. Thank you so much!! <3 

Also, oh my Arielle! What a babeeee 

Xx

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Alex looked at himself in the mirror one last time before splashing the cold and refreshing water from the sink all over his tired and exhausted face. The contact of the water against his skin was instantly and extremely stimulating; he could feel each and every single part of his body coming back to life from its sleepy and fatigued state. He rubbed his eyes with both of his fingers before passing his hands all over his hair, pushing it backwards. As he saw his reflection once more, he reminded himself to a much younger version of Dracula, although he was soon to be mistake.

The way in which his face was completely free of any strands of hair at all made his expression look completely more plain and bare than ever before. Alex could perfectly see how his face was so naturally exposed in such way that it made him look completely naked, or maybe genuinely ordinary. What he saw was the reflection of a twenty-seven year old man – that's it, just a man, nothing more than that. The person that was facing him didn't have any gel on his air, as well as he didn't have his sunglasses or a leather jacket on; he wasn't a rock star, he was just a man realizing what he genuinely and truly was: a shy and quiet boy from Sheffield who was living the dream of his life under the skin of someone who he really wasn't at all.

After realizing this and, for some unknown and strange reason, Alex felt incredibly old. He touched himself, all over his face, with the fingers and hands that had played so many chords of songs in front of thousands of people that knew all the lyrics to it. The wrinkles on his eyes were much clearer than he thought they would've been; how long have they been there? And for some odd anatomical reason, his face fell in such way that it made him look as if he was constantly pissed, making him look like an old-grumpy man. Alex shook his head with disbelief and started to walk away from the sincere mirror, which seemed to constantly torment him with the reflection of his own self.

As he walked into the kitchen with sleepy and slow steps, he encountered with the splendid and naked back of Arielle, grabbing some food from the kitchen counter. He contemplated silently the way in which her hair naturally fell against her bare skin, making a beautiful and gorgeous contrast between the redness of it and her paleness. That was something that Alex genuinely adored from Arielle: her natural red hair; he never told it to her, but sometimes it reminded him of that painting he once saw of Ophelia in the Tate Museum of London, from Shakespeare's play Hamlet.

Arielle turned around and discovered a thoughtful Alex, whose gaze was completely lost on some invisible point marked on the floor. Alex quickly realized this and looked away from the wooden floor and straight into Arielle's eyes, as he greeted her with a silent smile and sleepy eyes, walking towards the cup of coffee that Arielle had prepared for him a couple of minutes ago.

"You look much older with your hair like that" observed Arielle as she sat down the table.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" said Alex with a sudden tone of preoccupation, although at the same time trying to disguise that feeling with his usual cockiness.

Alex sat down in front of Arielle as he grabbed one toast from the plate that was on the table.

"Maybe" said Arielle as she took a sip from her coffee.