The Fan- A Bastille/Dan Smith Fanfiction

Chapter 3

Mary and I arrive at the venue 2 and a half hours to doors. There are quite a few people already queued up, and I am disappointed, but I figure that we might as well just take what we can get. I sit in a nervous state of anxiety, probably annoying the crap out of Mary, until the doors finally open at 8. Right on time. I nearly trample a few people in my eagerness to get inside. Mary gives me a look that says 'Dude. Cool out, we're all going to the same place.' I calm down a little after that.

The gig is general admission, so we will be standing the whole time, but neither one of us seems to mind. We are about 3 rows from the front of the stage and I can see everything perfectly. Although I doubt they will even be able to make out our faces. Oh well. As the space begins to fill up with people, Mary and I are pushed further to the front. We are now about 2 rows from the stage, and I have a feeling that's as far we're going to get.

The crowd sits patiently for another half hour until it's time for the gig to begin. Everyone is cheering before Dan and the rest of the band even appear. But when they do, I almost faint. I can see every one of them so clearly, even Woody, who's sitting in the very back behind all of his drums.

Mary must sense my excitement, because she glances at me and flashes a devilish grin. "Just you wait Caela, I am going to make sure that they see you. One cannot look this good and go unnoticed! It simply isn't done."

I am just about to beg her not to do anything stupid, when Dan's voice fills my ears. "How're you doing, you alright?" The crowd screams their response. His deep, generic British accent is probably one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. "Alright, we're called Bastille, and this is Laura Palmer."

The crowd roars back as Kyle's, Woody's, Dan's, and Will's harmonies fill the room with the intro to the first song.

Then Dan begins to sing.

'Walking out into the dark

Cutting out a different path

Led by your beating heart.

All the people of the town

Cast their eyes right to the ground

It matters of the heart.'

I thought that Dan's speaking voice was beautiful live, but I obviously hadn't heard him sing yet. He hits every note perfectly, and I spend the next few songs jumping and singing along in a blissful haze.

Then, after about 5 songs, Will, Woody, and Kyle move away from their instruments, leaving Dan and his piano alone up on stage.

"Okay, so this next song's a bit depressing and I apologize in advance." Dan says, drawing laughs from the crowd. "It's called Oblivion."

Just before Dan's fingers begin to expertly slide across the piano keys, Mary seizes the opportunity to scream at the top of her lungs, "HEY DAN!" She is standing on her tiptoes and making obvious gestures in my direction.

A few people laugh, but no one really looks at me. However, Dan happens to glance up. He scans the crowd, smiling, but freezes when he finds Mary pointing at me. Our eyes meet, and it feels like I've been struck by something. I get chills all over and my vision tunnels until all I can see is Dan. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are really big, like he's just seen a ghost. I imagine that my face looks pretty similar.

We stay like this for what seems like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. It was a long enough pause, though, to confuse people, and puzzled murmurs are being passed through the crowd. Finally, Dan shakes his head as if to clear it and turns back to his piano. When he looks away, I feel as if the fire inside of me has both been lit and extinguished all at the same time. Did that really just happen? Was Dan Smith actually looking at me--and for longer than 2 seconds?

Dan starts the song again, but he seems preoccupied and distracted. For the rest of the gig, he performs every song in a fidgety state. And--is it just my imagination? Or does Dan keep glancing in our direction? I mentally shake myself. I need to be realistic and stop blowing the situation way out of proportion. It was just a glance, nothing special.