Collaboration || Dan Smith

Sixteen.

𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠
    - 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵

"What the fuck?!" I shout at the top of my voice in frustration while Maisie is in tears. She knows better. "You fucking know better!" I'm trying to get it through her head that we're at the peak of fame. We're breaking the charts every week and now Maisie wants to go completely off of the grid for a bunch of cells?

"You're right!" She screams over the top of me. Fuck knows what people are going to think of us when things go quiet and one of us is crying. "I do know better and I know a kid is worth everything compared to a shitty Grammy!" She cannot be serious. Even though the nominations don't come out until later this year - or earlier next year - we know that somehow we're going to win at least one.

"When you wrote that fucking single I saw your desire for music in your eyes! You've got a passion for singing." Why would she give up touring around the world for something that...she tried hiding from me?

Of course she tried hiding the baby?

   Maybe it was the guilt or the sudden realisation she can't keep either us or the baby a secret...fuck knows.

I don't like what is going on in her mind right now. She's not the same shy Maisie that I once knew from a few months ago. "I'm not saying that I don't love singing! I'm saying that I want to be a mom! A fucking mom! I'm having the baby whether you like it or not. I don't give a shit whether your in or out our lives. I don't need benefits and I don't need my baby to have your last fucking name!" I shrug. That sounds fucking great to me.

   "Why are you cancelling something...for something replaceable isn't he future. The future where we're actually married you know...have a big house. Where our kids are actually planned." Maisie laughs in anger. It's the worst kind of laugh a person can do. "A person...our baby...he or she isn't replaceable. A music career is. I know I've got a good voice and when our child grows up I want to maintain singing but for now I'm done. You can stop acting like a fucking fool! Or you can be a father." I shake my head vigorously. Fuck this shit.

"I choose Bastille." I'll forever choose Bastille.

"Fine. Don't you think for a second that you can work your way back into mine and your daughters life in the future - because you fucking can't!" In anger I walk out of the room. I totally blank every single staring face...I'm in literal hell right now. I don't care about that baby. I'm just pissed off that Maze is gonna leave us while we're on this high.

Bastille is going to plummet in the charts without her. Why the fuck is she so selfish? She knows that I'm actually finally happy and comfortable...especially when I'm besides her on stage.

I cannot be dealing with this now...or ever.

   I then go and lock myself in the guys toilets as I smash my hand into the door after looking it. "Fuck!" I angrily shout. "Fuck!" I shout again before punching the wooden door so hard that the crappy lock nearly bursts, thankfully they don't.

   But I hear someone else walk into the bathroom. "What the fuck is the matter with you!" Woody screams over the top of my violence.

   He has to be shitting me. As if he didn't hear mine and Maisie's fucking argument. We was loud enough. "What's the matter with me?!" I angrily laugh - just how the bitch fucking did - I have to laugh. I don't want to hurt anybody. "What the fuck is the matter with you more like!" I unbolt the lock and throw it open to see Woody standing before my very eyes. He's in his dark green Plymouth Argyle top, his arms are tightly folded. He looks one hundred percent done with my shit.

   "I'm not the one fucking acting like a kid! Shut the fuck up and tell me what is fucking wrong. Mate." He sharply says mate. It's a 'back off' warning he does when he isn't in the mood. I laugh again. "Well let's see what the fuck is wrong with me." I then make my fist into a ball and hold it up into Woody's face.

   "Let's see the first thing is that Maisie is quitting the music industry, second thing is that we're shit without her. Let's face it. We're actual fucking shit. Third thing is that she's pregnant and not getting an abortion which means I'm a dad. Fuck that shit. Fourth thing she's going to live in Italy and I'm never going to see her or the fucking thing." With that Woody's warm fist hits me around the face.

   "Get a fucking grip!" I wince in pain as I hold my eye...well try to because it stings. "You know what. Fuck this shit. Until you can actually behave like a decent person - I'm quitting. Sort yourself out and then we can talk."

   I'm fucked.