#albarn

Your hand in hers, missy dragged you trough the crowd of people with the goal of getting to the bar at the other side of the room, throwing dirty glances at everyone who dared to push against you. after settling on two of the empty barstools, missy dropped your hand, only to place it on your bare knee, the cold metal of her big rings making goosebumps form at the soft skin underneath her hand— not that you minded— the two of you had always been… close, so this wasn’t anything you even registered half of the time.

She looked ridiculously good tonight, with the short skirt and her high knee doc martens, the cute top that showed off a bit of skin of her stomach— not to forget the hint of underwear that showed— and her big oversized jacket that would’ve looked stupid on anyone that wasn’t her. you snapped out of your thoughts though when missy spoke up, her brown eyes focused on a card that layed on the counter. „what are you gonna get? i think i’ll just take a mojito for now and when we’re warmed up we can get stared with some shots, hmm?“ she asked, managing to still keep her lower voice up despite the loud noise as her head turned to you, her forehead hidden by one of her many hats and her eyes adored by little black dots and eyeliner underneath.

You give a short nod. „yeah i agree. something simple for now and then we’ll get this party going“ you grin at her, taking a look at the card „i’ll just get a bramble. you gonna order?“ you ask her and missy nods, used to the question, so she holds her hand up, the one that had the perfectly shaded tattoo of princess mononoke on it, and waves to one of the bartenders to give him your order. after getting your drinks she turns back to you, giving you a grin. „so. anything new i don’t know yet?“ she asks and you simply shake your head. „i’m pretty sure you’re already aware of every single aspect going on in my life right now“ you snicker to which missy just tilts her head, a familiar glint in her eyes that you never really knew how to place, and nods. „true“ she shrugs and takes the newly placed drink on the counter into her hand, taking a sip while watching you do the same.

Her hand kept inching up your leg, now not on your knee, but on your thigh, her thumb laying just under the hem of your skirt. „did you try out a new makeup routine? your eyes are extra fascinating tonight“ she hums lowly, watching you with a mocking grin as you swallow tightly „just used eyeliner“ you spoke softly, eyes on hers as she lets out a hum. after that, the conversation continued without much input from you, your eyes and ears fixated on the words her big lips formed while she talked to you about anything and nothing- you were sure that you could draw the shape of her lips from your memory alone, the amount of times you had studied them had left the image in your head like an engravement. her hand stayed on your skin, and whenever you spoke, even quietly, she inclined her head just slightly toward you, ensuring she caught every word.

After finishing your cocktails, missy gave you a wink before letting her hand fall from your knee, not without grazing it downwards teasingly, and stood up to order shots and stronger alcohol. in the meantime you looked around the room— the club was distorted with rainbow disco lights flashing around the vicinity. crowds of people mound together as they swayed in no particular direction to the ear-bursting spanish music. when missy returned, she managed to sit even closer to you then before, one arm draped around your waist, circling the skin underneath your top, while the other arm was placed on the counter, making her lean close to your face. „well, let’s get started then“ she grins and both of you take a shot glass into your hand to bring them to your lips and drown them after a short clink from the glasses colliding— the alcohol burning in your throat as push the glass back onto the counter.

The next 20 minutes would later on just seem like a trailer instead of an actual movie— many many shots and lots of giggling. knowing glances and somehow ending up in the middle of the dance floor. people pushed against the two of you from left and right, but you were to drunk to care. missy’s hands were holding your hips while yours were placed on her shoulders as you carelessly danced to the mixed and sampled versions of latin songs, both of you singing the words into each others face like the people around you did. your body pressed against her own as she pushed her face into your neck, mumbling the spanish words against your skin while occasionally kissing the delicate skin, which elected soft and almost inaudible sounds from your lips. „missy“ you whisperd softly but she either didn’t hear it or ignored it, starting to softly suck on your sweet spot right beneath your ear, making your eyes fall shut and head fall back a bit.

You didn’t remember when or how, but at some point she stopped and you went back to dancing to the music as if nothing happend— jumping around and holding hands while you twirled each other around, not even noticing the people you pushed against with that gesture. when the dance floor became almost unbearably full, she grabbed your arm and pushed you back to the bar so you could breathe for a second and drink a bit of water. „you got weed on you?“ you ask her, to which she simply nods and reaches into her jacket pocket, pushing her hands inside before groaning „fuck, my stuff is in my bag. and that’s at my apartment“ she spoke up, annoyed by herself as you pouted. „i only got cigarettes“ you whine making her roll her eyes and grin „quit being whiny“ she snickers and pushed your cheeks together with her hands „i’ll just walk around and ask if someone’s willing to give me a bit yeah? you wait here“ she said and left before you could answer.

You watch as she pushed her way through the crowd, searching for the smokers. you pulled out your phone, not being able to focus on the numbers that the phone time showed— 5am? or was it a 2? or was it 3:52?— you choose to simply ignore it and unlock your phone, thankfully having face id registered, and checking to see if you have any important messages. when none caught your attention enough to answer now, you pushed your phone back into your pocket and started to look around in order to spot missy again.

When you found her in the crowd, you immediately wished you wouldn’t have seen her. missy was talking to some guy, his arms on her waist, which made you grimace. their faces were close together- too close for your liking. who even was that guy? didn’t she just want to ask random people for a joint? why the fuck was she now dancing disgustingly close with some weird looking asshole? the scene made you feel weird- and the alcohol in your body let the knowledge that it was jealousy through, even though you’d usually just tell yourself it was a different feeling, but right now, it was clear that you were jealous.

Over the past few months you had often enough tried to convince yourself that you didn’t like missy as more than a friend, that being that close with her was normal in friendships and that your body was just being dramatic when it made you feel butterflies whenever missy got a bit too touchy and flirty— but as you watched her dancing with that alien of a guy, her body language showing that she was obviously flirting with him, you couldn’t help but frown, your eyes quickly trying to look at anything else. the loud music and colourful flashing lights didn’t help your case though— you could feel the vibrations of the beats and your eyes still couldn’t make out the time on the clock over the djs silhouette- the numbers morphing into one another, so you quickly looked away, only for your eyes to fall back onto missy, who was obviously about to get kissed from the guy she was dancing with.

Without thinking twice about it, you took your jacket in your hand and pushed your way through the crowd and to the door. with a push against it, you were outside the club, your heels clicking against the stones as you stumble to sit on the sidewalk after quickly putting your leather jacket on. you stare at your heels, the cold air blowing into your face and messing up your hair, but you didn’t care right now. with a huff, you pull out your pack of cigarettes out the jacket pocket and take one out, careful not to take the upside down one. as you inhale the nicotine, you can’t help but feel frustrated about the scene you just witnessed. seeing your best friend being like this with someone… it just made you sick. you wanted to cry and at the same time push her away from the guy and just kiss her. but you knew you couldn’t do that.

You hadn’t even noticed the tears falling down until you saw little wet dots on you jeans skirt, trying to stop them from flowing by looking up into the night sky. of course you couldn’t see any stars. the light pollution in london made it hard to see any stars, but tonight it just felt like they were mocking you— as if they weren’t worth showing when missy wasn’t looking for them, so they found a place to hide— the sky had the same color as the squiggles of tar on the side of the road and probably also your lungs from the unhealthy amount of cigarettes you had been consuming for longer than you should. looking into the empty sky didn’t help, but you only looked back down when you heard a soft voice behind you

„What are you doing out here? i was worried about you“ missy spoke up, her words slightly slurred as she sat down next to you— almost falling in the process— when you made no movement to look at her. „just needed air“ you sniffle, not able to tell her the real reason. when missy heard the noise you made, her mind automatically sobered up a bit and she grabbed your face and turned it towards her.

„Are you crying?“ she asked softly, holding your face firmly in her hands when you try to look away. „hey, answer me. what’s wrong?“ she asked but you just shook your head, mumbling an „it’s nothing“ but missy wasn’t having it. „tell me what happend! i was gone for 5 minutes and when i come back you’re gone! what happend in those minutes i was trying to get weed?“ she pressed and you scoff „trying to get weed? more like you were trying to get laid“ you say and free your face from her hands. for a moment missy didn’t respond, her lips slightly parted. „what do you- i wasn’t trying to get laid. i just… wanted to get weed“ she said, her firm voice getting less confident at the end.

„I saw you with that stupid guy, didn’t look like you were trying to get weed“ you sniffle, turning away from her as you press your forgotten cigarette against the stones of the street, watching the orange sparkles die. „why are you so pressed about me dancing with some guy? i just wanted to flirt with him a bit in order to get weed! it’s not like i meant it. and the second he tried to kiss me i moved away“ missy said, trying to keep her voice soft but failing to hide the annoyed tone and confused face. „but you flirted with him!“ you huff annoyed and missy rolls her eyes „so what if i was?! why does it matter so much, hmm? are you jealous?“ she scoffs

You tried to not tell her, you really did, but her words and the weight of the situation just made you say it „so what if i am? i just can’t stand to see you flirting with some guy after- after acting as if we’re in a fucking relationship! you hold my hand and touch my thigh, you kiss my neck and- and- fuck, missy! i just hate to see you flirting with someone who isn’t me because as hard as i try to tell myself that i don’t have feelings for you, i do, and it’s really fucking hard to see you pressing yourself against some dickhe-„ your words get cut off by a soft pressure on your lips. missy’s lips. on yours.

So soft, so gentle. but not for long— with a groan she buries her hand deep inside your hair, pushing herself closer and kissing you harder. the taste of her lips, mixed with the lingering scent of smoke on the tip of your tongue, was the perfect contradiction that made your head spin. a soft whine leaves your lips, which made missy tilt your head back by your hair to kiss you from above- being taller than you- her teeth bite into your lower lip and when you open your mouth to let out a moan, she pushes her tounge inside your mouth.

Missy’s lips must have been designed only to kill you, because the way she kissed, they way she tasted- lips like these should be forbidden, to keep them from breaking hearts and driving people to insanity. the moment she had kissed you, all of your thoughts had left your mind, and you knew that after this, you would trade all you own just to taste them once more. her other hand moves up to your cheek, wiping away the last fragments of tears. her touch became urgent, possessive, as her hands fisted the skirt, hiking it up and exposing more of your skin so she could grab your thigh.

The night pressed in, silent and intimate, as Missy’s lips traveled from yours, down your jawline, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin of your neck, another moan leaving your lips and you grab the back of her jacket. her fuzzy white hat grazed your cheek, but you didn’t care. slowly, the kisses, full of love and tension from all the waiting and hesitation, came to an end, missy’s head moving up so she could look into your eyes, both of your breaths ragged and cheeks flushed.

„I hope that was okay“ she whispers, suddenly more shy than ever. „i-i liked it“ you whisper back and missy nods, taking your hand and swallowing tightly „i have feeling for you too. i’m sorry for… not making it clear that i like you. and i’m sorry for flirting with that guy. i didn’t mean it like that- and i mean, it’s not like men interest me much“ she said, her voice soft but her usually confident tone coming back as she stroked the back of your hand with her thumb „you actually like me back? all this… flirting wasn’t just for fun?“ you whisper and missy nods „yes, i promise“ she said softly, the words slipping out her lips making you smile softly and letting out a breath you had been holding for too long „okay. im glad, because i- i really like you“ you say, copying her soft tone and missy smiles „then lets go on a date tomorrow. you’re not allowed to say no. i’ll think about it and surprise you, okay?“ she spoke and you nod and smile. biting your lip „okay. i’ll be ready“

Missy presses another kiss to your lips, this one more soft and gentle. her lips move against yours and her hands caress your cheeks as all the weight on your shoulders slowly lifted from the realization that this was real. when she pulls away, she stands up from the sidewalk, grabs your hand, and pulls you onto your feet as well „let’s catch a cab“ she grins and holds your hand tightly in hers while you start walking.

you look up into the dark night sky and smile to yourself as you spot the little shining dots. told you the stars only show when missy is around.

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

“Loop it.”

The harmonies felt better. But after going through every note in your range, Damon still refused to settle. Sleep clung to your voice and became prominent when you tried to push through.

“Let’s do it again…” Damon pressed the signaling button for his voice to echo. You could see through the glass fatigue ruled him and fueled his obsession. “Try the C major–” He hesitated to commit to the note, but not when he had called your hotel room in the middle of the night. “—No. Try doing–

“I’m taking a break.”

The headphones disconnected before Damon could reprimand you. If you had to be inconvenienced, so would he. Silence followed you as you moved through his home. Damon’s eyes tracked your familiarity in his home. There was something, a feeling he couldn’t decipher about the authority you found in it.

You were no longer a guest, but you weren’t a friend. Despite knowing each other for years, you never quite graduated from the acquaintance level. Yet, there you were, sipping from the mug Damon had made himself as if you were his other half.

Your position normalized it. The industry, which you barely claimed space in, normalized things like this. There was plenty of musical history to account for late-night sessions or jams, but this felt intentional. Different.

“Where are the others?” You teased him knowingly. You were well aware of the rumored soft spot he had for you, but it was hard to believe what he expected of you.

“Still sleeping.” Damon was restless, focusing on the wasted time on hot water and honey. “They’ll catch up.” He attempted to reason with your glare. “We need to get back.”

You had gotten further than usual, half a mug’s worth, before he complained. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the tea to keep you up, but the warmth helped. So did the fact that there was a fresh stock of the brand you gravitated towards. He was expecting you.

“Just a minute longer.” You hummed, neck stretching to the left and right until it popped. “Sure you don’t want any?” Damon declined, settling with a yawn. “You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I will…” He sniffed with agitation. You annoyed him and crawled under his skin just to settle there. “...once we’re done.”

“We are done.” A breath of amused laughter flitted through your nose. “You’ll have to drag me back in there.” Damon looked at you as if actually entertaining the thought. Throwing him a coy gaze, you added, “I’d love to see you try.”

“I thought about it.” He cracked a smile, finally. Damon was uncharacteristically quiet during the session, suppressing his usual cheekiness.

Your expression softened, matching his, “I know.”

“Maybe I’ll scrap the song.” He finally caved, his anxieties surfacing. “B-sides or something.” His movements became his own, demeanor present again, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a mess.” You cleared your mug, the remaining tea cold and forgotten. “That what you want to hear?” You hummed for an answer. “Or that it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard?”

“Depends.” His smile remained present. “Does my ego need inflating?”

“God, no.”

Your breath of laughter was divine. Damon would listen to it on a loop if he could. These moments made it worthwhile. They were fleeting but brought a much-needed lightness to the night. Made the purpose of your presence just a little sweeter.

—

You’d come in with little layers, to begin with. Stumbling out of bed meant whatever was on your back would have to suffice for the day ahead. Yet, that hadn’t accounted for the switch of the air conditioning to accommodate the countless pieces of equipment used.

At night, things were different. You related to the solitude, the quietness making it easier to think. Yet, the buzz of a busy studio gave a unique rush to every meeting that helped immerse you in a world of collaboration.

“He kept you all night?” Jamie’s tone was teasing with the rhetorical question. It was obvious in how you looked—casually put together and gaze set on the goal of finishing—that you’d seen the sunrise.

You offered a simple smile, making it seem like you hadn’t minded. In reality, you hadn’t truly minded, but part of you resisted the game of cat and mouse.

“You’re allowed to say no.” Another breath of laughter. Jamie had a knack for using his humor for others' comfort, which you appreciated. Especially if it came to poking fun at Damon. “He does know what that means.”

“Keeps me occupied.” The excuse was rehearsed but not inaccurate, as you shrugged. “The extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

“God knows he’s got plenty to spare.”

Jamie looked at Damon. He was engrossed with his lyrics, scratching out words for others and shuffling the cue cards in different orders until they made sense for the singers who would soon spill in. A cigarette hung from his lips, the ash snowing down onto his work.

Damon mumbled against the butt to himself, taking a drag just to push it out through his nose. Something was appealing to the vice. Especially as you thought to reach out with your two fingers to capture your lips around the cigarette just to feel the heat of his lips.

“C’mere for a minute.”

There was a lag before you realized Damon had called out to you. There wasn’t a need for you yet; he would have to make something up soon to explain why you had to detach yourself from Jamie.

“The melodies sound good.” You crouched beside him, the compliment surprising not only him but yourself. “I heard you earlier…” You attempted to backtrack before the heat reached the tips of your ears. “...It’s shaping up nicely.”

“The lyrics are..." His sentence trailed off, morphing as he blew a raspberry. He couldn't quite shake the frustration of his unfinished song.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you reached across him for the marker in his hand. He knew you were cold since he avoided looking at how the swell of your breast peaked, looking for heat.

“Grammar’s a bit off.” You mumbled, adjusting the order of a few things. It was like a puzzle; the song's lyrics could be bent however you wanted but could only settle comfortably with a proper flow. “...Let's see how that sounds.”

You hummed the melody that had become your earworm. Damon matched it with the lyrics. The flow had changed with the slight adjustment as if mocking how it had taken days for him even to approach it.

“Yeah, that’s good…” Damon whispered to himself, to you. There was no reason to be surprised at your skill, but there was something that tickled him. “Good, let’s get the others.” He could feel the start of his rambling in his chest. “I mean, when everyone gets here…you can show them.”

“Somethings off with you…” Your eyebrows cinched together with premature amusement. “You don’t like it?”

Damon was hard-headed, never soft-spoken about his work and how he envisioned it. But he struggled to form his words the way he wanted with you.

“He’s upset that he didn’t come up with it himself. ” Jamie joined right as Damon went to thank you. “Now leave the girl alone; I don’t know how she’s not sick of you yet.”

—

As others filtered in, producing and recording, the smoke began to fill the room. Things began to come easy, things falling into place with more than a pair of eyes looking for a solution. Damon thrived in the environment. He personified the more, the merrier.

He would detach himself from one group just to mingle with those working in the opposite direction. He multitasked even when everyone decided to relax collectively, yourself included.

“All I’m saying is that the audience in Rio has this unmatched energy.”

They talked about the upcoming tour, regaling tales of part performances that couldn’t be matched. It had just been confirmed and announced to the anticipatory fans in capital cities globally.

“Toyko, hands down.” Another added. “ Plus, the food is well worth the travel.”

You traveled for work but only hopped from one studio to the next. Never had you performed in front of crowds as the rest had. They shared stories of the things thrown at them during peak performances and tales of drunken nights that were fuzzily being put together.

“Albarn, do you remember?” They called for him across the room. He had waited for the single invitation to be closer to you with the backing of an excuse. “In Montreal, how’d we get back to the hotel?”

Damon didn’t touch you, not yet, at least. The arm around the cushion of the sofa settled comfortably as he sat. His head lulled back and forth, giving attention to those he conversed with. But something about how he gravitated to your space made it seem like his undivided attention was yours.

You found it difficult to listen to shared stories you knew little about. But you liked the rumble you felt against your side when Damon fluttered with laughter. Each time, he would catch the goosebumps that spread across your arms. He figured you were cold, but you were worried that you were revealing yourself, and he only reveled in it. So you used the very excuse of being affected by the temperature to cover yourself.

You could have gone without asking, but your hand landed on his knee before you realized. “You have a jumper or something?”

His eyes lingered on your hand, which caught his attention. It was a smart move on your part, better than trying to call his name, knowing it would go out in one ear and out the other. Others continued around you, making nothing of the touch, but you rarely initiated something.

“On the chair.” Damon jutted his chin across the room where his sweatshirt had been scrapped.

Eyes were on you, watching your sock-clad feet pad carefully over the various wires that littered the floor. The sweatshirt was intentionally large on Damon, so it swam on you as you pulled it over your head.

A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic.

Someone called your name, and your original spot was filled beside Damon. There was a yearning to return to that, probably the shared exhaustion of the day forefronting your thoughts.

—

Your eyes couldn’t help but drift throughout the session. It was becoming a hard habit to break. But for once, you were thankful, able to catch the tail end of Jamie and Damon’s tiff. They had their lovers quarrels, but they never remained quiet. They were never shy to be dramatic for everyone to hear and witness.

The studio glass was your barrier, but you had an inkling it was about you. Jamie was always an advocate for you, for everyone. He, although not always, could talk sense into his counterpart. You just wished he waited to do it when you weren’t there or when you could eavesdrop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m—

“Nah, I’m tired of your excuses.” Jamie tutted, arms crossing with conviction. “You have a beautiful girl over in the middle of the night, and you make her work.” He shook his head as if it was the most despicable thing. “The only thing she should be doing is moaning–

“Fuck off.” Damon frowned at the crudeness. He’d mused the thought but never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. “It’s not like that, believe me.

“You’re letting me down.” Jamie continued, ready for the fight. “What happened to you?” He always tapped right on Damon’s pressure points. “You’ve gone soft, can’t even ask out a girl without falling apart.”

“Thanks, mate.” Damon threw a glare, still looking ahead. He caught your eye unintentionally. But his eyes flickered back to Jamie before the slim chance of being ashamed. “Go find something to do, I can’t babysit today.”

“You’re drawing it out,” Jamie said. “She’ll be gone when you finally fucking do something—

“I’ve invited her out tonight.”

The lie flew out fast. Damon had only heard through the whispers of others that you would think about going. Now, he gambled.

Jamie’s eyebrows twitched up, “With us?”

“Who else?”

A smirk pulled at the thought. Years passed, and your tendency to avoid social events began to precede you. “You bribed her to say yes, didn’t you?”

—-

“Refill?”

Damon watched your drink dwindle. Your ordered whatever everyone else was having, making it easy to blend in. It was his excuse to talk to you, which he found otherwise difficult.

The music was loud, thumping directly to drown out his voice. Yours carried beautifully as you laughed with the company. It felt like a strike every time Damon heard it. A reminder of the incompetence Jamie had reminded him of earlier.

“Hmm?”

The music covered Damon’s words. You leaned close to his neck; ear perked to hear him. He had caught you on the dance floor, where you swayed to the beat. On the off-beat, your shoulder brushed against his, a deliberate move on your part.

“Your drink…” He pointed to it this time. The strobing lights helped cover his stumble. “You want another?”

Damon looked good. Maybe it was the buzz around you allowing you to fall behind the veil of alcohol. It helped that people around you bumped the two of you closer. If he hadn’t been looking at you so intently for an answer, you’d be in his arms within a matter of minutes.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

The atmosphere of the club required commitment. But the bar offered a reprieve. You were lucky to have found a free stool that wobbled under your weight while Damon flagged down the bartender. You were sure some recognized him, but as he matured, the more privacy he maintained.

“Thought you would be a no-show.” The gin and tonic had a heavy pour, reflecting the overwhelmed workers and carelessness of the night. You sipped on its sweetness, patient for Damon’s response.

“So did I.” Ironically enough, you had approached Damon. You extended the invitation, lying through your teeth that the others had sent you to ask him. Relief flooded him. A shrug simplified Damon’s feelings. “Changed my mind.”

“Why?” You teased, looking at him with nothing but conviction. “You found out I was coming?”

“Something like that.” His lips twitched at the sentiment, arms encasing you as more bumped him toward you, “Jamie’s quite persistent.”

Your drinks dwindled, and more were ordered. The bubble you’d created was filled with wit, a banter that came naturally and held heavy sentiments. You had already memorized the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how his laughter started deep within his chest just to echo its way to you. But it never got old. Typically, you’d scold yourself for admiring him that way but indulged regardless. Damon was never subtle with how his gaze lingered, but you doubted subtly was his priority.

Especially as he broke eye contact with you just to wet his own lips, mirroring your gesture. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “You’ve got my attention.”

It seemed the best time to ask you when he had you in his grasp. There wouldn’t be a more appropriate time in his eyes. This was what he wanted most but never knew how to express. He wanted you near him, like this.