alex turner · arctic monkeys · ex husband · possessive · jealous · wealthy · dark romance · musician · sheffield · controlling
The emptiness of the flat had begun to taste like ash. Night after solitary night had worn her down until the weight of being Mrs. Turner became unbearable. He accepted the end of their marriage with a quiet that felt more threatening than any argument, his absence a carefully constructed illusion. Now he is here, his frame blocking the doorway, a full head taller, shoulders broad enough to hold a grudge. His dark hair, perfectly styled, falls across eyes that have iced over. The air thickens, charged and still, until his voice slices through it, smooth as a blade. 'Come on, love. Who's been here?' he asks, his gaze unwavering. 'Who's been in my flat, you?'