Head in the Sand (Bastille)

Storming the Stage

     Will's POV

     "Hey guys, wanna go have a mini party in the backstage room?" I asked while the four of us walked down the wide, yet dim, hallways, concrete walls surrounding us.

     "Yeah sure," Dan chugged down a bottle of water. "But let's have more people other than the four of us," he laughed, throwing the empty piece of plastic into the recycling bin.

     "Um, I'm not a retard," I rolled my eyes, earning myself a light slap in the back of my head.

     "Whatever," Dan laughed, opening a door the led into a small room with our stuff inside, along with some beer cans, and a long table with bowls of food upon the orange tablecloth, which we helped ourselves to.

     After texting and calling people, the room was soon filled with friends, crew members, and of course, Bastille. Dan was watching the amount of alcohol he was drinking, making sure that he wouldn't be drunk or tipsy during the show. However, some of our friends: Tom and Greg, and a few others may have had too much to drink. Random flashes of a camera caught my attention every now and then, but I eventually managed to ignore Greg's tipsy photography by have small chats with the others. The only barrier now was Tom, who was filming Bastille and asking his every-time question "what are you doing?".

"Tom, not now," I rolled my eyes at the film man.

"Fine," he gave up with over-exaggeration, losing interest in me and moving onto Woody.

"I'm worried about that girl who was swaying around earlier," Kyle panicked to Dan from behind me.

"You're never worried!" Dan scoffed at his mate. "I'm supposed to be the one who's worrying!"

     "She'll be fine! It's probably just a cold," I cut into the conversation and reassuringly patted Kyle on the back.

     "I guess," he mumbled, succumbing to my words.

     'So unusually pessimistic,' I shook my head, of his behavior. He was the last person to be a pessimist in the universe, I swear. I was a realist, using my logic and smug looks to win my way, while Woody was the optimist of the group, acting as the confident father figure. Obviously, Dan was our pessimist. And then there was Kyle...I wasn't exactly sure what he was; maybe an imaginer? Oh wait, then it hit me, Kyle was a cat. He never really stopped talking about felines, or forgetting about them in general.

Well, this is more boring than the other parties we've had, I sighed, searching for my book I had left on the table...which somehow made its way to the small leather couch. I can't even leave a book somewhere without it being moved by a drunk dude, I picked up the paperback piece of literature and opening it to the first chapter. The party was so boring today, that I was easily drawn into the plot of the book.

~~~~~

"I can't believe we're five minutes away from playing at the O2," the nervous frontman mumbled, hands fidgeting with his ear piece.

"I know! It's gonna be so much fun, mate!" Kyle slung his arm around Dan, which brought a small smile to his face. "And with our new starting song, Send Them Off!, everyone's going to love it!"

     Dan chuckled at Kyle's hyper personality, but our keys player couldn't be more wrong. In fact, for the past three years, we've always started off the shows with Bad Blood, which Dan probably loved to do because he was barely in the music video, with only mere seconds of shots that showed him drowning in the water. I knew how much the fans, calling themselves stormers, wanted new songs. Even Awuoi, my girlfriend demanded the reason why we were taking so long. But the fans should at least be grateful that we managed to make a second album, along with a couple singles. So our latest single, Send Them Off!, was a good choice to start off the concert, and it was an ironic name as well.