you sit on your bed, trembling underneath the covers with headphones on. it was storming pretty badly outside, and you hated storms. you turn up the music unbelievably loud, in a desperate attempt to ignore the crashing of the rain and thunder outside and the hot tears streaming down your face. you jump when you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and hear a soft voice.

“shh, love.. it’s alright.”

it’s alex turner.