plot twist; dan smith (bastille)

d; chapter 2

[dan's chapter]

— x —

ONE EYED JACKS is the place to be. Well for me at least, and Kyle. But of course the silly bastard is two and a half hours late. I think today's excuse will be traffic—even though he doesn't know how to drive. Both me and the eagle, aka Mark Crew. Bastille's very own producer and mixer...okay. Mark is basically everything I aspire to be.
"How's the pretty bitch holding up?" I clench my lips together, totally not impressed by Nina's new nickname.
Even though she rarely visits the studio, they know that she isn't the ditsy blonde she makes herself out to be; hence giving her the nickname 'pretty bitch'. The eagle on more than one occasion has told me to dump her.
   "Sabrina—" I over emphasise. "Is doing very well, if you must know." I mumble as I begin to log myself into the computer. It's our anniversary coming up and I need to get her a present that will put last years one to shame. I swear as the years roll by, the years get more expensive.
Whatever happened to buying a charm bracelet with our initials on?
   Nina has literally given me a list of things she expects to have. Half of the items are random bits and bobs from designer stores like Dior, Chanel, Versace, Supreme and Gucci. The other 'items' on her pink sticky list are more of reminders actually; 'to book dinner reservations at a restaurant over four stars' and 'to get a hotel room with a great view'. The last bit of the note is actually helpful to say the least.
   "Oh yeah? She must've searched you up on one of those death calculator websites that tell you when and how you die." Instantly I hold my middle finger up as Mark loudly laughs at his own shitty joke—or whatever that was.
I ignore Mark and his slightly annoying and very unenthusiastic voice and continue to Google Nina's very specific gift list. I only snap back to reality as I feel Mark breathing down my neck. "Didn't your mum ever tell you it's rude to look over people's shoulders?" I snap...only I don't mean to. Mark, with his face uncomfortably close to mine shrugs his shoulders back loosely.
   "No. But my dad did tell me how not to make a tedious wish list." He nods his head towards the small pink post-it note in my hand.
   Everything is pink or white with Nina. It's weird considering I'd give her a burgundy colour to match her personality aesthetic. Not angelic colours like pink and white for example. But apparently those are her favourite colours...it must be the model's side of her.
I can't resist a smile, thinking about how pissed off my girlfriend will be if I buy her none of this stuff. "My 'wish lists' is apparently worse." I lean back on the newish black roller chair with my arms crossed. I so hope that I don't break it.
"Oh yeah?" Mark queries as I nod my head.
"I straight up asked for a new MacBook and a new phone, just because I want to use an replica phone case a fan made of my old one—" Mark cuts me off with an 'awe', but I instantly roll my eyes.
"The fan was a divorced forty something year old woman. She has nothing better to do in life than stalk me online and talk to underage fans for company." As much as I know Mark hates dissing our fans even he grins.
"I'm just being honest—" with that Mark shakes his head, settling back down in his own seat a couple of meters away from me.
"Mate, let's tone down the honesty a bit. That lonely forty something year old lady is funding us. Like it or lump it, we cater to her needs." With that I cringe thinking about it. All I can imagine is these unattractive older ladies getting off on the way I style my hair.
I feel sick.
As I'm about to share my disturbing thoughts with Mark, I get cut short by Kyle making his way into the studio. "I'm so fucking sorry!" He shouts looking like a right state.
"What the actual fuck have you been doing, man?" There's numerous sweat patches on Kyle's white shirt, which clings to him as if he's jumped into a pool.
Ky shakes his head looking totally worn out as he unplugs his earphones from his ears and bangs himself down on the green chair which loudly creaks in resistance. "Oh fuck off, chair!" He hisses tossing and turning to get himself into a more comfy position as it creaks some more.
Other normal people would be concerned about their friend like Mark is right now—but me, oh, I'm more concerned for that green chair which took ages to get my hands upon!

—x—

[this dan and mark at a random studio.]