Collaboration || Dan Smith

Twenty-Five.

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚
- 𝗕𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲

~ February 19th 2019 ~
Dan's point of view

   This year the Brit Awards are doing a new thing - it's where all of the guests who are attending tomorrow night have a run through of what's going to happen. It's also a chance for bands - who aren't nominated this year - to preform an exclusive gig for those who are nominated. I didn't know about it until one of my friends, who work for the Brits once a year, personally gave me an invitation.

   This event is also kept under wraps from the public so no one suspects a thing. I think it could solve a lot of issues, for starters finding which table you're meant to sit at...there's been at least two times out of three where I've ended up sitting with complete strangers.

   Luckily this year they've made it clear that groups, spouses, special guests and producers/writers all sit together on the same table. Two years ago we had two random folks on ours - probably because we was late looking for a suit for me. My goddaughter decided to spill her juice on my old one...which was just pleasant and the others I've previously worn didn't fit.

   "How long is this meant to last" Woody's wife, Chrissy, asks while literally leaning on my shoulder. I look at my watch and shrug. It feels like we've been here for hours...when it's only been forty five minutes apparently.

   Oh fucking hell this is torture.

   "Another hour I think?" That's what our invites said...I don't know whether they changed it. But it looks like the other bigger artists are enjoying the shitty music provided by a new band who can't sing live...despite being bigged up as 'next year's big thing'. Obviously I'm not the one to judge since I suppose they're nervous. They look around the same age Bastille started out as...but his voice is a bit shit.

Chrissy deeply sighs as she takes another swing of her Prosecco. She clearly isn't in the mood for this either.

In boredom I look around at every table. Post Malone is casually sitting on the opposite table next to me smiling away...normal. While I could name drop everyone in this room I come to a sudden stop. I see...no fucking way.

Maisie.

My ex hangs out by the side of the door with her arms crossed. She supportively smiles at the lead singer on stage. I know they're not dating or anything, she's a genuinely supportive person. She probably saw how nervous they was before hand and gave them a prep talk?

I stand up from the table and sort of crouch. "Where are you going?!" Woody shouts over the clapping as the shitty performance ends. "Going to go loo! Look after my shit yeah!" Woody holds up his thumb as I pat his back before tucking in my chair and heading towards the door.

I don't stop or anything. I walk right up to her...she Dee's me coming up deliberately batters her blue eyes in another direction. "I don't want a fight..." my voice trails off as I stand next to her. "So you're going to apologise?" Maisie mumbles still looking away from me.

"And our baby..." I roll my eyes backwards. I know that I do have to apologise for the way I've been acting. "Only if I get one back?" With that Maisie turns around giving me her full attention. "You know what. I'm fucking girl enough to apologise. Yeah. Sorry I shouted...sorry I stayed with you longer than I should've and I'm sorry that you are the father of my baby." With that Maisie goes from looking like she's about to bite my face off to sweet and innocent. "So what are ya sorry about?" She tilts her head to the side with a false smile.

"Sorry for shouting. For telling you to get an abortion...I wasn't like telling you. It was like a little nudge to the right thing-" Maisie shakes her head as I stop talking. "I accept the shouting apology." We're both individuals who have this trapped fire from inside of us. No wonder why no one really wins...we're fighting fire with fire. Metaphorically speaking...

That would be pretty fucking wicked if we could.

I don't say anything else. Instead we stay in silence for the next couple of seconds. It's awkward...because everything I want to say is right at the tip of my tongue, but I don't want to come across as even more of an arsehole. Maisie doesn't deserve to...suffer.

"You look really...good." I whisper looking at Maisie. She's wearing a plain white tee with a long gold chain necklace. She also has maternity blue jeans and new white and red converse. Her hair is also really long and shiny - but not greasy or anything - the complete opposite. Her skin is glowing too. "Shame that it can't be said for you." I know I've seen and felt better days. "You need to see a therapist about your...issue." My 'issue' is I'm now constantly loosing weight...even when I'm under weight.

   "I've sorted mine out." I think that is what made me and Maisie closer...we both...are unhappy with our bodies. Of course we had different situations. I was once fairly big...for over half of my life that was. I was unhappy with myself. I knew that it was okay, I didn't mind it until I thought it was weird that no girl would turn their heads towards me like they did with mates. So I slimmed down. Just because of fucking sex appeal. Wow. Maisie on the other hand got bullied when she was at primary school/kindergarten age. She was already slim apparently but she was never happy with herself or comfortable. I can't imagine growing up and hating my own body.

   "Not everyone can get pregnant." I instantly regret that selfish comment.

   Maisie's eyes widen in disbelief. "I didn't mean it...like you look good because of the..." With that she bursts out laughing in shock. "I mean...thank you for giving me my baby - who has made me realise that I need to be healthy...so yeah Dan. You're right. Pregnancy helped me. Maybe if you acted like a father and eat what I eat you wouldn't look like a fucking giraffe." I'm not going to lie - although that stung - I was not expecting her to come out saying I look like a 'giraffe'.

   I like where her head is at sometimes...I really fucking do.

"Sorry. That was mean. You're not a giraffe." She's so...confident in herself. It's weird to see her this way. Healthier, bright eyed, long haired, somewhat even more pretty. "It's okay." I smile as she smiles back while we continue to watch the performance in silence.