Star Signs ✮ Malum

Award Shows Suck

[A/N: Longer update whoop whoop.]

"You're a dick, y'know that?" Michael said casually, glancing out the window before looking back at me.

I shrug, "You are what you eat, I guess."

I didn't even get a reaction, all I got was an extremely unimpressed look.

"We're almost there, might want to slip into character." Michael said, slouching a little as we turned the corner. He kicked one leg up against the seat in front of him and looked generally done with everything.

I couldn't think of a character that acted like a run of the mill flower child. I was so caught up in how smooth Michael was at changing personas that I didn't get a chance to slip into character myself.

I wouldn't have enough time to invent myself a character on the spot. It took great actors weeks to create the attitude of a character based off a few pages of words.

I didn't even have time, let alone a script.

Think Calum, think.

I shut my eyes in concentration as the car that we're in begins to slow down.

I can't follow the exact stereotype, I need a little bit of my own special flare. Something to make this character mine.

Suddenly, I had it.

The door opened and my eyes followed suit.

We'd arrived at the back, our arrival wouldn't be announced until we officially hit the red carpet.

"Welcome to the Leo Awards." The man holding the door greeted, waving toward the closest door with finesse. Michael grumbled as he got out of the car, popping a quick forced smile to the man.

I, on the other hand, gave him my best hundred watt smile. I thanked him and followed after Michael, tripping over my own feet in the process and nearly falling over.

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"Hey Mike?" I ask casually, as we walked down the dark tunnel that lead directly onto the red carpet.

He hums from somewhere beside me.

"If you went to Hogwarts, what house do you think you'd end up being sorted into?" He giggled, not expecting that kind of question.

There was a long pause before he answered.

"I think I'll have to go with Ravenclaw." He says finally, his silhouette nods a little in reassurance.

"Why's that?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed. I was expecting him to say Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

"I don't know, I'm not exactly super smart and all about learning but that's not what Ravenclaw's all about. It requires other traits too; like creativity and individuality. Sure there's some wit involved in being Ravenclaw but there's other things too." He explained, getting super into his explanation. By the end of it I could hear him breathing a little heavier.

"Cool." I reply, not sure how to respond to such a heartfelt answer.

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"Michael Clifford!" One of the interviewers waved him over as soon as she spotted him.

She wore a little black dress and had her hair styled up in some weird beehive looking do. She smiled widely when Michael couldn't find a quick enough excuse not to talk to her.

I lagged behind, not sure exactly what to do. I'd been following Michael around for the past fifteen minutes like a lost puppy.

We looked like quite the sight, Michael wearing all black, save for the American flag tank top he wore. I, on the other hand, refused the powder puff pink t-shirt I was offered and wouldn't leave the make up room unless they let me wear the nice maroon knit sweater that was thrown over a chair.