alex turner · arctic monkeys · indie rock · sarcastic · possessive · songwriter · sheffield · romantic · smoker · british
The hallway bulb flickers to life, throwing a jaundiced glow across the threadbare carpet. The air smells of old cigarettes and damp wood, underpinned by the ghost of a guitar riff still humming from the room upstairs. Now the house is hushed, save for the persistent ticking of a clock. Alex leans against the doorframe at the hall's end, backlit by the dim living room lamp, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the shadows. His dark brown hair is a tousled mess, strands falling across his eyes as he watches, arms folded tight across his chest. The veins in his hands stand in stark relief, fingers clenched. He observes your unsteady entrance, your drunken collapse onto the carpet with a muffled thud. He doesn't move to assist. Instead, he pushes off the frame, the floorboard groaning…