don't you go // lrh

/six/

/the morning after/

/luke/

My world has changed drastically since starting the band. Playing sold out shows, opening up for a huge band, traveling the world, paparazzi following us, I can have any girl, any thing I want in a matter of minutes. It's been such a whirlwind change. So fast too, it's been extremely easy to forget it wasn't always like this. I've grown accustomed extremely easily. Scary easily.

But one of the only things that has kept me sane is waking up in the morning after a show.

The first few seconds of consciousness, of waking up are always the best, those free few seconds of a sort of nothingness I have before I remember my reality. That's really the only thing that's never changed.

It's kind of like for those mere milliseconds, I'm not in a huge band, I'm not the Luke Hemmings of Five Seconds of Summer.

I'm just in a bed. In a location I can't remember. And I have no concept of time yet.

I blinked a few times and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh of relief.

But then the memories trickle in, and I remember who and what I am. The burden of it all as well as the privileges. And that at least, it feels good to have a day off.

And I remember the girl.

Amara's face is the first real, solid, concrete thought I have. So clear I could've sworn I was dreaming her up, still asleep.

Instinctively I reach toward the side of the bed groupies usually sleep in when they're allowed.

And when I feel nothing against my touch, my eyes shoot wide open, and I remember I didn't actually sleep with her. I smile to myself, remembering how badly she rejected me. Yup, I totally deserved it.

In the shower, I'm still consumed by thoughts of her.

I practiced a different level of ego check. When she rejected me I almost wanted to ask why she'd accept to coming back stage. Isn't that what she's here for?

But thinking back on it, I hate how it sounds even if the thought never left my head. Makes my skin crawl.

I wanted to compare Amara to the typical type A groupie I've come to know so well.

The type who would have my pants around my ankles within fifteen minutes of meeting me. Whose name I don't care to learn. Whose pleasure isn't my priority.

But she made me work for it. And by 'it' I'm not even talking about sex which is crazy to me.

She made me work for the laugh. The smile. The gift of her eyes on mine.

I forgot in the real world that's what you have to do. Work for something you want.

Things aren't just handed to people without any real effort. Everyone knows that. I knew that painfully well my whole life.

And I managed to forget it.

I couldn't even speak around her without stuttering or saying 'uh' every few sentences. It's so embarrassing.

Amara wasn't even afraid to tell me she didn't like my band!

No one's told me they don't like my band to my face since before we were famous. Everyone's scared it'll like really offend me or something. I don't even have that type of personality where I'll get all hostile.