Bastille Imagines

The Initiation Test

For 6 - what seems like very long -months, touring with Bastille has been worth the bus rides from one side to the country to the other of a mobile home, even if you are the only girl. Festivals and concerts have now settled comfortably in your daily routine, quiet nights coming once every blue moon. It's been worth the extremities of sporadic weather changes and climates in each and individual country you travel to; hail, wind, intolerable heat, rain, and even snow in some places. It's been worth seeing the mass crowds jumping simultaneously to the beat of the song, the effort gone through to create banners and signs in support of the band, the devotion of each and individual fan as they sing along to the words with a sense of unity. There's a special bond the band have with the fans. Dan treasures them dearly, even if they violently attempt to get even the slightest touch of his hair when he dives into the audience during Flaws.

It's a thing you've noticed that these guys are so down to earth, their humbleness making it so much easier to get along with them. Despite being in their band as just a tour member, they've accepted you as one of their own, which you are ever so thankful for. You remember the first time meeting these guys and rehearsing with them for the first time, your low self esteem making it difficult for you to convince yourself that you're more than worthy of this band. Terrified of making a mistake you listened to their albums and studied their songs in depth, etching it into the very essence of your mind. When rehearsals came, you absolutely aced it, thanks with the motivation of the guys, complimenting you on your focus and talented skills.

Since then, your nerves have been chased away, the large crowds no longer daunting to face as you stand behind your piano, playing like your life depended on it. With Dan's helpful advice, things have been going smoothly.

The crowd go wild after your last song of the gig, still singing that repetitive "eh eh oh" like an anthem. Another show done, another crowd satisfied. You and the rest of the guys make their way back to the bumblebee, the nickname for your tour bus with its vibrant yellow and blacks, and relax for the rest of the night. It's easier tonight because the bus is stationary and there's no traveling to be done, so, while the opportunity arises, you sleep. However, somethings bothering you: the guys haven't talked to you since you left the gig. It's abnormal for them to keep themselves from you, maybe it's something you've done? A mistake you've made? You don't know, but you wish it's something that won't seriously affect your relationship with this band. It's a routine for all the guys to get together, drink beer have a laugh, typical 'men' activities which you don't mind mingling into, but tonight there's nothing.

It's agitating you so much that you finally pull yourself away from the warmth of your bed and figure out what's going on. Downstairs shows no sign of life or the slightest clue as to why the bus has no atmosphere. Behind you, you hear footsteps descending down the staircase closer and closer until Woody makes his appearance.

"Hey Woody, what's up?" You ask. But all you get in response in a shrug of the shoulder. You watch him, questioning him even, as he takes out 4 cans of beer from the fridge. Once again he brushes past your shoulder and rushes up the stairs in a hurry. It's not like him to have an ignorant attitude, is it? After the slam of a door you realise where everyone is - the magic room, as Kyle prefers to call it.

You decide that since your downstairs you make yourself a nice cuppa before investigating the unlikely behaviour of your fellow band mates. Brewing, the tea bag sits while you skim through your phone, Twitter going on a frenzy as fans compliment the gig. To interrupt that, your phone bings at an incoming message.

*iMessage from Dan*

Come upstairs.

Curiosity has you obeying Dan's simple demand and dragging your feet upstairs towards The Magic Room. Still, silence lurks these corridors and it's making you slightly unsettled, what are they planning?

You enter the room and immediately darkness blinds you.

"Guys?" You whisper, burying yourself deeper into the room. Within the blink of an eye a torch shines brightly into your eyes, straining them as they adjust from one extreme brightness to the other. You follow the torch as it shines on a chair on the middle of the room.

"Sit." Someone demands, you're guessing it's Dan, although he's nowhere to be seen. You comply and take a seat, nervously fidgeting with your fingers beneath you.

"It has come to our attention that you have been playing with us, Bastille, for 6 months..." He states. "Without an initiation test." He continues.

Oh no. Is this what this was all about?

Standing in front of you is the entirety of Bastille, staring menacingly down onto you with their arms folded and heads high.

"To be accepted, you must complete the test." Will mentions. You almost snigger with the sincerity Will speaks in the voice. Each of them, standing in all their glory, their faces set in stone, no muscle could be moved but laughter. You have to say, they've kept the act going long enough.

"You have a minute to prove yourself." Woody speaks up. Insight settles in, the four cans of beer Woody carried up weren't for the guys...they were for you. As expected, Woody places the cans in front of you, peeling one from its casing. You reach out for it, but Woody's quick reflexes hold it back and out of reach.

"But first, answer this very simple question. Kyle, Woody, Will and myself, who would you kiss, marry, kill, friend zone. Go!"

"Uh I don't know!" You think this through, who would you kiss, marry, kill and friend zone? Trying out different different names with different categories seems to hard for what it's asking, you don't want to upset anyone. Quickly, you blurt out your answer.

"Kill Kyle, friend zone Woody, kiss Will, marry Dan!"

Instantly Kyle's face drops in shock of your sudden kill. You might not have killed him literally, but possibly killed any chance of staying friends with him. Jokingly he sighs and pretends to go off in a huff, whoops, sorry Kyle. You loon for approval in each of their faces, it's obvious in some, more than the ones you so apparently offended.

"Hm, not bad. Okay, next objective, down this." Dan hands you a beer, one you hate as well. You don't even drink beer, but if it's for the lads then fuck it, let's go. The refreshing click of the can enters your ears, the mouthwatering coolness of the can as droplets of ice cold water drips onto your hand. You have to say, it does look good.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for a copious amount of alcohol to course through your body instantly. Ignoring the foul taste, you down it as fast as you can gulp after gulp. The ritual chant of 'chug' is heard from the guys until finally, the objective is completed.

"Ugh, please don't make me do another one." You groan, wiping your mouth and almost collapsing. The guys laugh along, but in seconds their faces turn solemn again and their formality returns.

"If you would please, kneel before us." Dan demands. You obey and drop to your knees, eyes not sitting at a comfortable level...

"I, Dan Smith, hear by declare you official member of Bastille. Congratulations." His hands tap each side of your shoulders before offering you the hand to help you up. The guys laugh off the solemnity and everything morphs back into normality.

The celebration continues in the form of drinking beer and watching the England football game. You're surrounded by your friends, your band mates, and you feel glad to be accepted into something so special, you love these guys. Acceptance has never felt so achieving.

"Hey, good choice with that question eh?" Dan's smug voice whispers into your ear as he jokingly nudges you.

"Don't even think about it, Smith."

A/n: So guys. Who would you kiss, marry, kill and friend zone?