Chapter Text
Sometimes, tour stories are to be kept as jokes; as blackmail; as quirky anecdotes, to be pried out by inquisitive interviewers to make them seem more interesting.
(Because, as most of them will surely tell you, the members of Bastille do not find themselves to be particularly interesting- and no decent interviewer has the time for that self-deprecating bullshit.)
And really, despite the fact they’re a worldwide-touring pop band and have a singular shared braincell between the five of them...not much happens on the tour bus. Sure, there’s some chaos every once in a while, but rarely ever anything noteworthy enough to post about.
(Not that that ever stops Dan from posting about it anyways.)
Then there’s a night that changes all of that, one that sets off a chain reaction of events that not a single soul on the tour bus will ever tell another person.
(They have to specify “person” after Charlie asks for permission to tell Luna when they get back from tour. He gets it.)
The day starts like any other- the tour bus rumbles its way through a raging thunderstorm, with most of the band retreating to their bunks or the couches until they’ve arrived safely at the venue. The bus driver leaps out before anybody else can, swearing up and down that he’d seen lightning strike the bus on the highway, and runs off to find the bathroom.
(“We should pay him more,” Will remarks as they gather their things and prepare for the short sprint through the rain.)
The stage gets set up without much delay, soundcheck proceeds as normal, and the show goes off without a hitch. It’s only when they’re back on the bus and headed for the next city that things start to get...well, weird .
The fateful night comes when Dan stumbles out of his bunk at 2am, opens the door to the outside world to get some air, finds himself staring straight into the eyes of an
extremely
confused McDonald’s worker instead, and decides he’s finally lost it.