Million Pieces °Bastille Dan°

Fussy Eater

I know that this sounds awful...but I really enjoy having some alone time. Of course I also feel guilty for ditching them. I know that I should be helping the boys, but the truth is that they don't need my help. Not when Dick and Erika are there. I believe I even saw Beau...which is extremely surprising considering he usually tours with Bastille when they're in America.

It's safe to say that none of them have realised that I've gone walkabouts though. I have zero notifications on all of my apps, Admittedly it makes me a little sad, but I don't mind, it means that they're all either killing each other or having fun.

"What would you like to order?" The waitress says with the most fakest smile that I've ever witnessed. It's weird because she looks like the type of person who would be naturally happy and bubbly. Shit. I better quickly order and leave her alone, she shouldn't be here...

"Um..." make your mind up quickly, Mia.

"This is embarrassing..." my voice trails off as I suddenly feel sick. Not because of the baby, or the ever lasting mourning sickness, but because I'm starving...and I can't decide what I want the most. They have so many Italian meals here...I'm lost for choice. Wait, no I'm not. They have Lasagne!

"But you have any lasagne? I'm...pregnant and...hungry" why the fuck did I tell her that? She's literally he only other single other person I've told except Dan. A waitress. Oh my god. What is wrong with you tonight, Mia!

Get ahold of yourself.

"Huh?" She replies while I try not to roll my eyes back. I thought this restaurant is three stars...obviously I've been mistaken.

"Lasagne." I say again, this time I try making myself sound clearer, but the waitress still looks at me mystified.

Fuck.

I forgot the typical way of saying lasagne! Well this is painfully awkward. "It's a pasta dish with mince meat..." as my voice trails off as she then nods her head. Thankfully her false smile has been replaced by a real one.

"Oh...you mean lasanga" — I literally forgot to replace the 'e' with the 'a'...my bad — "we have a new chef and he has his...limitations. He's only making dishes off of this side of the menu tonight." Lasanga is the most simple dish there is, and I'm not saying that because I'm Italian. Even Dan knows how to cook it with his eyes closed! I know that's biased considering he lived with me in Italy for a few months...but that's not the point. My unborn child probably knows how to throw pasta sheets, mince meat, and cheese together!

It's not rocket science!

My eyes wander off to the menu again. I have to say something...this is totally unacceptable. "No ragu...no bolognese...no carbonara...can't he even put together bruschetta or risotto? My god." I literally feel my head automatically shake in total disappointment. I know I shouldn't be so negative, or rude, but I'm just tired, cranky, and hungry...and a very fussy eater.

The waitress looks like she understands nothing I just said smiles again. Instead of saying anything at all, she simply flashes me a awkward smile. "Sorry..." my voice trails off as I hold my head in embrassment.

"I'll have the pizza. Plain please..." I then smile to break the stupid atmosphere that I've created.

The waitress nods her head. She doesn't even ask me if I need my drink refilled, even though it does, in silence she then makes a quick getaway. I can't blame her.

After two seconds of staring into nothingness, my phone suddenly starts to ring. Thankfully I have it on the lowest volume, I have to give the caller credit...it's pretty good timing to say the least.

"H-hello?" I stutter. As if this meal can't get any worse.

"Marzia! Where the fuck are you?!" It's Dan...and he sounds panicked. Oh god, what has he done now?

"I'm having dinner. Where are you?" I need to live my life a little...it's just that Bastille gets so tiring, both mentally and physically. Not to mention being with my other half for twenty four seven isn't healthy at all. Dan knows that fact.

"Thank fuck. We're having a fifteen minute interval. I thought something bad happened, everyone was looking for you." By everyone he must mean the only crew member that doesn't have my number. I don't say anything else on that topic.

"So you're okay?" Bastille aren't the sort of band to have breaks, or intervals, when they preform at gigs. He must've stopped the show for me. Oh god that is the cutest thing ever!

And I despise myself a little more now....

"I'm fine..." I nervously say with a smile in my voice. It's not my fault I'm blushing over his concerned ways.

It's sweet that he cares about me enough to take a break and try to find me. "And the baby?" I roll my eyes backwards. Dan sometimes acts as if he is a little child, a child who constantly needs reassurance. It's annoying but Dan always means well which is very sweet.

"It's fine Dan...stop worrying. I'm waiting for my pizza."

"But I thought you hate pizza?" Once again I roll my eyes backwards. I find myself doing this a lot...especially when I'm talking to Dan of all people.

"It's a long story..." My voice trails off while I hear Dan make a weird laugh. I don't know why he did that considering nothing I said then was even remotely funny.

"As long as your both okay..." aw.

"Look babe, I gotta let you go. I'll meet you on the tour bus in a bit, okay?" I've noticed that Dan's British vocabulary has rubbed off onto me over the past few years...even when we wasn't a couple. I find myself talking and even thinking in English on most days! It never was like that before Bastille...before Dan. It's weird. Really weird.

"Love you, Mia" he always sounds like a loved up stubborn teenager. It's like he doesn't want to say it too loud incase someone overhears and thinks it isn't cool...but as the same time he can't not help admitting his love. Which makes me love him more. So I tell him just that...

"Love you more..." I whisper feeling myself get all giddy.