white blank page // luke hemmings

06.

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luke's pov

The show is long and sweaty in the way all our gigs are as we lapse through our tracklist, every song making my hair more damp with perspiration.

Isobel barely even crosses my mind. In the beginning, for the first two songs at least, my eyes search the room for her and her friends, and I eventually find the fluorescent red hair of one of the girls she's brought (whose name I've already forgotten, unfortunately).

After I locate Is standing a couple feet away from the redheaded girl, I am satisfied. I can finally focus completely on the music.

That's the beauty in performing live. It's really terrifying and all at first, but after a few minutes the crowd fades away and it's just the boys and I. And I stop hearing the cheering. I zone it out somehow, no matter how loud it is. It's incredible.

Everything is electric tonight. The theatre's completely packed, and the shouts of the crowd almost overwhelm the sound of us. I keep trading ecstatic side glances with Michael and Calum, and even though I can’t see him I know Ash must be grinning. We go into an insane sort of disbelief whenever we do a show, because the fact that people are paying to see us, that they know all the words to our songs, is incredible.

The worst thing about performing live is that it always ends too soon. It feels like no time at all passes when you’re up there, it’s that surreal.

And so, like every other gig we’ve ever played, it’s over before I know it and we’re being ushered off the stage. The riotous applause of the audience slowly dulls as we squeeze our way through the thick crowd of people backstage, making our way to our dressing room for the night.

I take a seat on a ripped leather stool in the room, which is all peeling white paint and must. I know I have the dopiest smile on my face. The four of us are all laughing as we exchange high-fives and pull each other in for hugs, still riding a high that probably won’t go down for at least a couple days.

The knock at the door that follows most shows we do comes about fifteen minutes later, when we’re slightly less sweaty but maybe even more amped up. With it comes a small flood of girls, at least twenty, some squeezing into the dressing room, most sticking to the narrow hall outside of it.

I step into the hallway and start talking to a few of them, taking photos and giving hugs, wondering why they like being so close to us after we perform, when everything about us is so clammy.

I’m in the middle of asking a tiny blonde girl how she enjoyed the show when I find Isobel. She’s standing with her friends in the doorway of the dressing room, introducing herself to Ashton. She feels her eyes on mine after a few seconds, and turns to look at me while her brunette friend shakes Ash’s hand. Our eyes lock for a few seconds and I give her an awkward smile, quickly glancing down quickly to resume conversation with the blonde girl.

The girl and I chat for another couple minutes, but I think she can tell I’m not really invested in it, because she gives me a quick hug and moves onto Calum, who is situated near the end of the hallway.

The swarm of fans is starting to thin by now, with only a handful of girls left, who all seem to be some sort of group. They're all speaking to Michael in the dressing room, except for two who look to be sisters, who broke away to come and talk to me.

My focus is completely gone by now, just as it was before the show started. Because whenever I look up I exchange a glance with Isobel, who keeps turning from her and the girls she's brought conversation with Calum and Ash to see where I am.