Million Pieces °Bastille Dan°

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❛ Disclaimer: when Marzia is talking to her family she is speaking in Italiano. ❜

The flight was painfully unbearable.

So unbearable that it physically hurt sitting down, but it hurt my back while I stood up. I locked myself in the lavatory several times and burst out crying. I hate being by myself on flights, I have no one to confine to, or to hug. Thankfully we had no turbulence and got to the airport on time. I also found my bag pretty quickly...but then realised that I left one bag on the tour bus. But Dan is going to take that with him.

But now I'm in the arms of my mother and oldest brother. I called them in mid flight and explained that I'm physically exhausted and need a break.

"You're so skinny." My mother pokes me in the stomach. I wore the loosest of dresses. They still don't know.

"I'm not mamma." I mean it's the truth. I'm definitely not as 'skinny' as when I left Italy.

"Yes you are." Giovanni, my brother, says with a smile.

I guess I should tell them before we go, I don't want them making a huge deal over it. "I'm pregnant." That's when her huge brown eyes widen in shock while Gi hugs me tightly, although I don't want to tell him it's too tight.

"Is the baby okay, you're very skinny." Just like all of the other Italian mothers out there, my mum has an obsession with weight.

"They're twins." I say trying not to get emotional in the airport, but it's hard to do because I'm so happy and proud that I'm going to be a mother.

"Twins!" Mamma shouts a little too loud while everyone walks past us.

"Daniel is the papà, yes?" Of course she knows he is. I nod my head as mum claps her hands together in happiness.

Sometimes I swear she loves Dan more than me. It's sweet, I idolise their friendship. Dan has told me several times that he would kill to have a mother-in-law like mine...I think that was another tasty hint for our beautiful future.

I caught my mamma teaching Dan how to make a traditional lasagne with homemade pasta. It took a couple of day for the pasta to dry...and a couple of bad attempts...but neither of them gave up. After coming back from the weekly marketplace with Armani and Gi...Dan and mamma served their lasagne and it was the best thing I've ever ate in my entire life. At first we thought mamma made it by herself and told us that Dan did, but then Dan cooked lasagne two weeks later with little to no help and it tasted the same.

"Girls?" She then hold's my bump with both of her hands. She has always been handsy with pregnant women, I think it's because all of her other daughters went without even telling her about their pregnancies and she felt left out. But I know mamma is gonna claim my babies as her own. She's an angel that way I guess.

"They must be girls. Dan is a ladies man."

This is surprisingly more awkward than I thought, so I laugh through my tears. "A little girl and a little boy." I then hold both of her hands while Gi takes a picture of us. It's probably to put on Facebook or another prehistoric website my family and our friends use to communicate.

"A girl and boy! Gi! A girl and boy! Call everyone up. We're having a celebration!" Oh god.

"No, mamma. I really need to rest. Not celebrate."

"No, no. You celebrate the life within you, yes?" No.

"I'm tried and hungry."

"Later! We'll have a celebration later!" She announces to the world.

"No! Mamma!" I burst out laughing before she wraps her arms around me.

"My littlest daughter is a mother. Gi, can you believe it?" My brother puts his hands into his pockets and shrugs. He's the only sibling who I get along with, he's also the one who tries bringing the family together. But he always fails to do so.

Gi is the oldest, he's fifty one and has a family of his own. Although his wife died giving birth to their only child, Armani. Armani is basically the equivalent to the name 'Cherry'. It's used as a last name mainly though, but his wife was set on it from the moment she found out. She wasn't Italian, and was a rich bitch, so she probably named him after the designer brand.

Armani is a couple of months older than me, so It's always been weird that I'm his aunt, and he is my nephew. He's cool though, although he lives off of Gi.

Gi and Armani both speak fluent English so it's no doubt that we're going to be talking in English more than Italian.

"At least I'll die in peace." She smiles at the morbid topic.

"Jesus Christ..." my voice trails off while we all walk in direction of the exit of the airport.

"Is Dan joining us?" Gi asks in his thick Italiano accent.

I shake my head with a sigh. "He is still on tour with Bastille. But he wants me to FaceTime him." My mother jaw drops open. I guess she doesn't know what FaceTime is.

"FaceTime is where you-" But she cuts me short.

"Your papà and Gi introduced me to Facebook, isn't that right?" She's already on Facebook though?

"It's FaceTime...actually." With that mum swipes her hand through the air in front of her like she doesn't care about what it's called. Which makes me laugh while we stand to the side in front of the automatic doors for a second. Gi then takes the suitcase off of me, like I'm totally incapable of rolling it behind me.

"I will FaceTime Dan just now!" I shake my head laughing.

"Must say congratulations." She literally pulls out her phone and presses Dan's number. She made him give it to her so if my phone was turned off or something like that, she'd call Dan.

"No!" Gi laughs trying to take her phone off of her, but she clicks the FaceTime button before it's too late...