The Erlich's had a gorgeous home and boy did Damon wish he could roam the entire home, he wished he could live in it and learn it's secrets. Besides it hosted a family of attractive people, so he wouldn't mind missing out on London, or the rest of the world for a few decades.
He sat on the stairs for a while longer, besides he wasn't sure where the guest bedroom was anyways. So instead of going to ask, he decided that camping out on the stairs would be a better option.
That was until someone decided to leave their room and step onto him and his silence.
"What are you doing here?" She asked sleepily, the voice belonging to Chloe. "Don't you have a party to be at?"
he shakes his head "No. I'm sobering up."
"What did you take?"
"Heroin. My girlfriend calls it the third person in our relationship." he jokes.
Chloe plops down beside him, stretching her legs out, her red cowboy boots contrasting next to Damon's beat up adidas.
"I don't like you. But I feel bad for you." she says quietly "And I certainly don't hate you."
"I think we've misunderstood one another." he admits.
She nods, staring down the stairs and then says "I got caught up in the moment. I really don't like your flatmate that's all."
"And that's okay."
He sighs, scratching his head and then saying "I'm sorry. I heard what Alex did to you at the Brits. Alex isn't funny. He's a bit of a prick. A bit of a sexist."
"You're telling me?" She says quietly
"You shouldn't let someone be in a position of power if they're going to abuse it." She murmurs. "It's not right. Especially if you know."
"He's my best mate. Besides Graham. I can't do anything about it."
"You have loads of friends. And fans. Don't forget you have thousands of people lining up to love you."
"It's not the same. I can't kick my friends out. Not when everyone is so fake."
"It's not the same." He repeats quietly. "Having people want to know you because you're apart of this fucking shit and having people who know you in and out for the right reasons is different. Sure I can fuck whoever. Sure I'm sex appeal and everyone loves this face. But what good is that when I'm alone? When I'm high? When I cry?"
"I want to go home and feel full. Not emptied out into a bed or a wastebasket. Not strung along to accompany someone's pins and needles."
"I feel like I'm being pulled between people for all the wrong reasons."
"I understand that." She admits. "My whole life, I wonder who's been my friend for the real reasons. Who wanted to know me. Who wanted to love me. It's hard. People are constantly creating ideas of you. And half of the time they aren't even correct."
He nods his head, looking at her curiously.
"I'm lonely." He admits before continuing "Chloe I'm lonely all of the time. And I'm going to tell you this because I believe you won't tell anyone else. Not a pap. Not the press. Not even your mum."
"I finish a show and I feel frustrated. I leave and go home feeling empty. I spend my time being frivolous and creating a name that I can't stand to look at."
Her stomach churned anxiously. She couldn't believe any of what he was saying, and honestly, she felt bad for him. There was sympathy for the Blur frontman, who honestly seemed like he was dealing with his entire being being split in half.
Her heart beat was getting louder by the second. He was looking in her eyes, but in a droopy way. It was a look of sadness. She could tell that much.
"Tell me, why do you like photography so much?"
It was off topic.
But a deep question nonetheless.
"Everyone seems to have a talent. My dad is the Maxis Erlich. Mum is a painter. Brother is a musician, sister a model and other brother is a phenomenal comedian. I needed something. And it felt like everything was taken up.
When you're born into what feels like birthright, you feel the need to try something new. You don't want to disappoint anyone. And I can't disappoint them."
It begins to all seep out of the cracks.
"With photography, it lets me stay behind the camera. I don't have to pose, or be eccentric or someone else. I'm not being captured on film, and I get to control the narrative. The hold of a camera lets me focus. I feel in control."
"Do you like it?"
She nods her head. "I do. I do I swear. But sometimes I don't. I wonder what it's like to be good enough for a stage, or a runway. All of that junk." She admits
"I bet you'd be great at it. You're able to transfer feeling onto film so well. You're able to get models to express what you want..You're transcribing emotion already."
"If only I could do it another format." She jokes
His eyes widen "You could! Chloe that's what I'm saying."
She grins "And you should take up photography. Make some extra bucks doing a tour diary."
"I'll leave the photography to Graham. That's more of his thing than mine." He admits, shrugging his shoulders.
They stare at one another for a few minutes, the weight on their shoulders felt like it had been thrown away, instead, in its place was a wave of dedication and appreciation. They'd expressed what hadn't seen said in years.
"What does your room look like? Does it have a dark room?" He asks, scooting closer to her.
"No. But I have a studio elsewhere too. But, I do keep a majority of my old and new work there."
"Can I see?"
She nods, standing up and taking his hand firmly, not quite thinking of the actions that would go along with it and she begins to lead him down the hall towards her bedroom, pushing open the paneled door to reveal her bedroom.
It was huge, a large canopy bed in the center of it all, chiffon fabrics hanging around and off of it. The closet door seemed wide open, and provided a peak into the stacks of shoes and clothes.
The walls, had paint splattered all over and were covered with posters, and prints of photographs both new and old. It was easy to tell how marvelous the original walls of the home had been, but it was more incredible how they'd been destroyed and altered over time.
Chloe dashed to one of the big wardrobes in the room and began pulling out envelopes and photo albums, the earliest ones dating from the year 1970
Some of these weren't even photos she'd taken, they were photos of her father and his friends, some of them contained her and her siblings with him and these friends.
The first one, everyone usually loved.
It was a photo of Paul McCartney with Chloe on his shoulders, she was a toddler. It had been taken at some farm in Sweden, on some magical trip that had happened ages ago.
To quote her father- "There was a lot more acid in the air then."
Damon looked at it for a few seconds before saying "you didn't take this. that's you right there."
"Yeah, but it's Paul..." she trails off
"I wanted to see your work. Not this."
"Sorry. It's just that most people like seeing all this first."
He rolls his eyes. "Come on Chlo-Bird, if I wanted to see the Beatles I'd go to a museum. Or maybe try to phone them myself. I bet their numbers are somewhere in this house."
She rolls her eyes, standing back up to find some other photos.
"Fine. These are self portraits. I took them for a magazine years ago. I think I was 13."
The photos were glossy, taken in a dark setting, showing a younger Chloe on the floor, toying around with a few belongings, the most notable being an orange guitar that belonged to her father. It was like in everything she'd done, there was something that tied her back to him or her family.
Time went by, the bed was covered in photographs, as was the floor. Hundreds to be exact. Days and years were being relieved and Damon found himself to be calm and content in the company of Chloe and her bedroom.
More time passed, and more photographs filled the bed. The pair began shoving some off the king sized bed, making room for more photos. Eventually reaching the 1994 Glastonbury. There were the photos of the Erlich family arriving, scoping out the grounds.
Maxis dancing with Chloe, Maxis posing with Joan, Maxis playing onstage. The family eating together, roaming the grounds.
Photos of Joan, photos of Joan with Liam Gallagher.
Photos of the Oasis set, and a few photos Joan had taken of Chloe, her sunglasses perched on her nose as she stared off into the distance.
Photos of the Blur set.
Damon's ferocity caught in action, the swiftness of Graham being stuck in time. Alex's perkiness. The energy of a crowd throwing themselves at a band giving their all.
Then, the energy backstage.
The happy expressions from Justine as she sat with Avery. The look of shock on Justine's face when Avery ran on stage, guitar in hand.
Damon felt like he was reliving everything but from a different perspective.
"I like these." He says softly
"It's like watching a movie. I can picture how this all went. Even though that's me right there."
"That's what's great about photography. You get to do that." Chloe says softly, before admiring the mess the pair had made. And not wanting to pick it up, she instead stood up, grabbing her closest camera.
"Damon. Talk to me about what you were saying on the stairs again."
He obliged the request, feeling comfortable enough to talk with the camera rolling, recording his words, his fears and his anxieties. It was comforting.
Eventually, she switched to taking photos, watching the singer grow comfortable with her bed and the ambiance surrounding it all.
He at one point takes the camera, sending Chloe around, letting her talk before giving her his emotions and thoughts.
This went on for at least on hour, before he switched a Kinks record onto her record player and let it play softly, gliding across the photo covered floor gently.
The softness of the music matched their quiet attitude, especially as they grew to become more tired.
Time went by.
It was at least 5 in the morning by now.
The birds were chirping.
All was well.
And Chloe lay asleep in her bed, next to her was Damon Albarn. Nothing had happened. There had been no sex. Just a connection, and now two fully clothed individuals were laying in one another's embrace.