Alex's perspective
" The mirror's image...! Talking the same sh-" I sing Why'd you only call me when you're high, one of Phoebe's favorite AM tunes. I trail off at the upcoming word, making her burst into a muffled giggle. She made me laugh, too. I was standing beside the hospital bed, imagining myself play the electric guitar's drizzling notes, almost hearing Matt's flawless drumming, almost feeling Nick and Jamie walk slowly next to me, backing me up with their guitars as I put my hands round an imaginary microphone. I usually close my eyes when I sing, so only when I opened my eyes to laugh with her did I see that she has almost packed everything. She's going home today. We are.
"Ya know, you shall start covering other people's songs more often." She says out of nowhere, long after I finished singing some other tune by Amy Winehouse. One we both loved, You know I'm no good.
"Well, we had it happen the other way around, ye know... Miley Cyrus covered Why'd you only call me when you're high at BBC Radio Live Lounge, remember? I recall you saying she was making a porn version of my masterpiece." I say, chuckling. I can still remember that rainy day when she was reading John Cooper Clarke and Miles, Matt, Jamie and Nick called me, saying that Miley would be covering us at BBC. Phoebe left the book and cuddled next to me. She started laughing from 'The mirror's image'. We weren't into the cover, what can I say.
"Well, she was! Like, you sing in this raspy manly voice while she's kinda making a very I dunno... A very too rhythmic version of it. You are so natural when you sing and it seems that if it weren't for Matt's drums to stop you, you'd sing the words endlessly, letting them flow out, forgetting about rhythm and all. Don't get me wrong, I know that Miley can't have such a raspy voice because I dunno if she smokes and she is a woman, after all. And I know it's a cover of the song and covers are supposed to be your own, unique interpretation of the song, but she sings it as if she got its whole message wrong. She sings it as if she's deeply waiting for someone to come and bang her. She sings as if she's mocking the situation. And it really isn't like that! You are so sincere and so aware of the fact that you're totally losing yourself in alcohol's 'spells' and you are absolutely concious that the lover is pissed off at you for only calling her when you feel like it, but you are unable to do anything. It's a sad song, in fact. It's about how hopeless you feel when you're drunk and you have nobody around. It's just the way you sing it that makes it different. If you sing it the way you do, in this raspy manly voice as I said, one will understand that you don't really care what the lover says about your calling her when you're high, that you're just too high to feel guilty. If you sing it normally, emotionlessly, someone might grasp the fact that you do know you're mistaken and unable to control yourself. Which is, in my opinion, a deep thing to write about. Whatsoever, Miley sings it like it's just an event, not taking it as something that builds you up as a human being and that 'teaches you a lesson', let's say. Not that your interpretation reveals it from the first audition of the song either, 'cause you're a hell of a liar when you sing, Turner."
Wow. This girl reads me like an open book.
"Holly God, I love you." I say, 'dropping' my imaginary guitar, reaching for her.
"I thought we were gonna debate it." She chuckles, hugging me back.
"There's nothing else to debate. You said it all."
"Oh, so my presumptions are right?" She looks at me, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yes, they're very right. I don't give my emotions entirely to the world." I say, giving her a long kiss.
"I feel so privileged sometimes." She says, smirking.
"Put your cannula back in, the doc will go mental." I say, handing her the thin transparent plastic tube which she removed earlier in order to test the capability of her lungs. The docs said they increased their functionality to 50%. The right one is the lazy fellow. If she takes her pills, she should be fine. However, now she is supposed to take about 5 a day. A number I find pretty disturbing for an almost 17 year-old.
"So, you're ready, love?"
"Yup."
I take the duffel bag and she wheels her oxygen tube(for which Isaac got a black and grey kind of bag, so that it doesn't look that frightening).
"Thanks a lot, doc." I say, shaking the man's hand.
"It's my job."
"Goodbye, sir!" She says, waving him.
"Bye Phoebe, take your pills!"
"I don't think I will be able to skip any if Alex's around!" She says, chuckling, heading out.
"Bye, young man." The doc gives me a pat on the shoulder and I head off.
"Ok, so would you like some cotton candy, kiddo? There's a fair..." I start, pushing the door open, looking down to my jacket, trying to zip it up. I am interrupted by the sound of flashing cameras and intrigued paps. I spot Phoebe, looking shocked. I take her hand and squeeze it.
"Love, don't worry. I am right here."
She nodded slightly and so I guided her through the the swarm of people, dialing for a taxi.
"Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner! What's Miss Phillis's diagnose? Will she survive? When are you restarting your musical activity? Are you retreating from the music industry?" The questions were flowing.
"Whoever said that, music's not an industry. It's a means of expressing feelings and opinions. Alex's band doesn't do 'music industry', unlike many others who just do it for money." Phoebe half-shouts. I was really surprised. She was so scared and put off by the paparazzi but now she's speaking up for me. I guess if something pisses her off she builds up and defenses. I look at her encouragingly and kiss her, right there, not really giving a shit if we are going to be on every magazine cover by tomorrow morning. I love her and she's mine. Everyone should know that. She breaks away gently, but the cannula tangles in the sunglasses that were hooked to my T-Shirt's collar, making us and some of the paps giggle as we untangle it, successfully.
"Miss Phillis, congratulations on the release of your book!" A man says, almost pinching her with the microphone.
"Thank you, sir, you're very kind." She says, smiling faintly. Most people would say that in an ironic way, even if that wouldn't be their intention. Phoebe's voice sent just the right message.
The cab arrives, taking us home.
***
"You're such a teaser." I tell her as she slips her hand under my shirt.
"No, I'm not a teaser."
"You've got that cannula so we can't do anything..." I say, touching her bum.
"I will take it off especially for you." She whispers in my ear, than kissing my neck." I think I can breathe." She adds, seductively. Holy shit this girl's killing me. I need her now, like right now. Who cares she's been out of the hospital for only an hour? Clearly neither of us.
"Phoeb... Are you sure you can do this? It's ok if.." I start, but she cuts me off, unbuckling my belt:
"Yes. I am sure."
She pulls out her cannula and kicks it away. She takes her T-Shirt off and than kisses me. I suck on her bottom lip until she slightly opens her mouth, letting my tongue tickle hers.
"Easy there, Turner" she giggles, trying to control her moans.
I take my shirt off and put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing just where her jean shorts start. She smiles satisfied between our kisses and she jumps on my chest, crossing her legs around my torso. I place my arms under her bum and continue kissing her till we get to the bed.
"What did they pump you up with?..." I ask, taking her shorts off.
"I don't care" she moans as I drag my fingers up her legs, shaping them for her waist, slightly touching her arms, stopping at her neck. "Don't give me any visible love bites, I got school."
I chuckle noticing that she used the word 'visible'. So there will be love bites.
A minute or two later, we were both naked.
"Are you sure...?" I start, making sure that she's ok and all. I would be very very very sexually frustrated if she told me to stop.
"If I say I can, it means I can. Plus, you're not taking my virginity now so I am fine." She says, taking a deep breath.
"Alright then."
After intense minutes, she put her cannula back in and fell asleep in my arms. I took that as a privilege of tracing all her unique features.
Her full lips were trembling slowly, her cute little nose was stuck with that cannula. I've never seen a person look wonderful with a cannula. But she did. She was so peaceful in her sleep, one hand tucked under her puffy cheek, the other one curled in a loose fist against my chest. Her hair, which she hasn't cut in months now, has grown past her collarbones in waves, although she wouldn't admit that if you asked her. The inside of her right middle arm was violet, bruised from all the needles that drained liquid in her blood, helping her recover. I know that if I pressed my thumb there, she'd probably open her beautiful big dark eyes, flinching, just looking at me, her eyeballs turning glossy with tears, hoping I'd stop. But she wouldn't say a word. She'd let her eyes speak. I trace the shape of her arm with my fingers, studying every inch of her skin. Right between her breasts, a violet patch with thin red snakes of blood marked her skin. The resuscitations must have been that strong.
"Al... I know you're looking at my boobs." She mumbles, opening her right eye first.
"I... I .. I was watching the bruise!" I defend myself, not entirely admitting that my eyes trailed on her breasts, too.
"Cheeky bastard." She smirks, kissing me passionately.
"You're so beautiful." I whisper, as she gets up and pulls her panties and clips her bra on. She turns to me:
"Even with this bullshit in my nose?"
"Yes, love. You are just as beautiful."
She looks at me in amazement and than goes back to her dressing up, muttering a thank you. I see her eyes turn teary and I get up to hug her.
"You should never doubt that. You are beautiful, love."
"It seems so unreal, Al. How come you fell in love with me? I am so difficult and look at me." She says, pointing to her bruises and her cannula. "My existence is uncertain."She shakes her head from side to side, tears running down her cheeks. "Do you really like living with a person who might not be with you the next day?"
"Love, stop it. I don't care whether you're pissed off or angry or upset, you're mine. And if you're mine it means you're perfect to me. I mean, you've written a book at 16! You're having it published a year and a half later! You've gone to America through your own results! You've almost reached your dream, love! There are so many beautiful things about you. I could talk about them for ages and you know that. You know I love you more than anything. And I know things are uncertain. But if I love you, it means I am aware of the risks that come along with me loving you. And I really don't mind." I say, caressing her soft cheek.
"Al, how come you love me...?"
"I just love you. I can't explain. You have so many little things that make me fall for you every single day. I don't know, it's everything about you. The way you wiggle your nose when you cry, the way your mouth turns into a smile, the way your eyes speak for you. Phoebe, you're perfect to me. I wonder what you love at me."
She turns away from me, smiling, hiding her gaze. She takes her oxygen tube and wheels it behind her, going into the living room. I quickly put on my 'Ultra violence' T-Shirt that Lana del Rey sent me some time ago, when her album was released. Although Phoebe wasn't too much into Lana, she said that the album was good. I remember that day...
*flashback*
"Love, Lana sent us summat!" I say, closing the door behind me, carrying the little box.
"Lana who?" She asks, getting up from the couch, letting MTv play Suck it and See. A minute ago, she was laughing hard when she saw Matt fingering that topless brunette in the video. Fascinating, she said, sarcastically.
"Lana del Rey, kiddo!" I answered, opening the box. She tip toes from behind me, stretching her neck to see from over my shoulder.
"Look, she got us matching Tees!" She says, taking the smaller one, putting it over her thin top.
"Ultra violence T-Shirt for a cutie innocent like you?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow, teasing. She pouts and kisses me. Gosh, how cute she is when she pouts.
"You ain't getting any tonight." She smirks, crossing her arms.
"Baaaaaaae, sorey..." I started laughing at her attempt of being bossy.
"No, Turner. No-no-no" She sings in the Amy Winehouse's Rehab voice, shaking her finger at my face.
"Fine." I say, pretending to be pissed off at her.
"Al, sorry, I was just fooling around..." She says apologetically, actually believing that I was mad at her. I turn my gaze to her and smirk.
"You believed me." I say, chuckling.
She does that no-way gesture with her mouth, rolling her eyes.
"I will go call Lana and thank her for the merchandise ha ha." I say, throwing the box away.
"Do you think you could give me her number? I'd like to thank her personally." She says. She is so polite, I swear. She is so thankful for every little thing that it's given or said to her. She really appreciates everything.
*end of flashback*
***
"Phoebs... Let' go to the fair!" I say, turning the Tv off. She sat on the couch all day long, pretending to watch Netflix when, in fact, she started hunting reviews of her book. Or, another thing she did, was turn youtube in a window and let it play an artists' playlist, while she replied to fan's congrats on the book release and other similar stuff.
"Fine, Al." She says, clapping the laptop's screen to the keyboard.
"Wow, you mean it."
"Yeah. I think it will be fun, after all." She said, smiling.
"HELL YES IT WILL, you got school tomorrow but I promise we'll be back soon and you're gonna love this day." I take her in my arms and spin her, making her burst into a fit of laughter as the cannula wrapped around us.
She went in the bedroom and straightened her hair, put on that cherry lipstick and took her loose shirt off, opening the wardrobe in search of another one. She pouted, not knowing what she should choose.
"Maybe we could get summat matching." I say, resting my head on the door frame. Shit, was she beautiful. Even though she probably didn't realize, she was teasing me hard with only that bra on.
She turned to me, considering my proposal."Are you gonna go out with that one?" She asked, pointing at the Ultra Violence shirt, shifting her weight on her left leg.
"Yeah. Advertising for Lana."
"But it gets cold... You shall get your hoodie, Al."
"I love it when you talk mommy to me." I say, hugging her from behind as she tip toed to the upper shelf, looking for the Tee. I saw it before she did and picked it up for her. She kissed me, adjusting my collar.
She slipped the shirt on and put on her ripped jeans over her black panties. Holly mother of God, was she sexy. She got her dark red cardigan and tied its sleeves around her waist, letting it cover her bum.
She wheeled her oxygen tube to the elevator and we waited for it to make its descend.
"You know, I've talked to one of your fans on Snapchat today... She sent me a cute snap of her wearing an Arctic Monkeys shirt and I found it nice so we started talking a bit. She gave me a suggestion."
"Suggestion?"
"Yeah, she suggested me to name the ox tube."
"And, you've thought of a name?"
She literally made that :3 emoji face that made me kiss her. How cuter can she get?
"Please tell me it's not Holden!" I say, laughing. I know she can really obsess over it sometimes, but I guess a book she wrote in which he's one of the main characters is enough.
"Actually, it's David."
"David?" I ask, slightly puzzled. But than I realize that my middle name is David.
"Yeah."
"Why'd you name your ox tube after me, love?" I say, holding her hand as we walked down the street. 10 more minutes and we'll be there.
"Isn't it obvious? I am trying to be romantic." She chuckles, kissing me on the cheek. "You're my oxygen. Hell, that sounds so corny, sorry." She says, now laughing.
"No, love. It's the way of expressing what you truly feel. It's not corny at all to me." I stop and she looks at me, eyes shiny in the orange shades of the setting sun.
"How did I find a person like you?" She asks, tip toeing to kiss me.
"It was meant to be." I whisper in her ear, hugging her tightly, quoting her book.
"I love you, Alexander."
Our evening at the fair was one of the most simple and peaceful hang outs we've ever had. Yet it was so full of new shades of her that I've never had the chance of meeting. And I think I let her see some of my childish shades of mine, as well.
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Author's note
Hi guys! I hope you are enjoying the story so far and I want to mention again the fact that I am not respecting chronological dates, facts about laws, things about Arctic Monkeys and so on. I just don't always put them in the right chronological order. It's a fic after all and I think I'm allowed to do this, I just wanted to clear things out a bit once more. I hope you like it and please feel free to comment, I like receiving all sorts of opinions on the story. I am planning on writing a chapter that will have lots of Q&A, so leaving some questions in comments for both Alex and Phoebe(for each of them, as many as you like) would be highly useful and pleasurable to me 😊. Thank you for reading!
Take care and stay humble