five

I spent a lot of my teen years watching interviews with bands. I liked hearing them talk and watching them simply live. I was always observant: I noticed everything.

If Mark from Blink-182 just wasn't feeling it that day, then I could tell. I could read emotions from a computer screen away.

Watching an interview happen ten feet away from me was definitely something new. Luke sat on a velvet couch of our dressing room for the day, a man in his late-twenties holding a microphone to his mouth and waiting for Luke's response to some stupid question he has heard one million times before.

Luke looked pretty pissed off, it was easy to see through the façade he tried to keep so hidden up. I could physically feel Luke's annoyance transfer around the room, his exhaustion coming out in bitty responses.

I looked up at Alex, hoping to see if he, too, was able to see how miserable Luke truly was. Did Luke really hate existing that much? I couldn't tell.

Like, yeah, life sucks but he's a successful millionaire before the age of thirty. That's probably the most white suburban problem I could think of.

I never really thought Luke would be fake. I didn't expect him to be all the magazines thought of him as, but never fake. I continued to watch him answer every question with a smile, the fakest smile known to human-kind.

I analyzed the situation, I analyzed the way his blue eyes filled more and more with anger and annoyance as the interview ticked on past half an hour. He eyed his manager, raising an eyebrow and giving him a look.

I think Luke is lost at sea, somewhere in his mind he's some type of ocean. That sounds a little tacky, right? I'm not in love with this stuck-up boy and I don't really want to save him. There's some instinct in me, though, that really wants to give him a hug.

I want to be a mother to him and let him cry in my shoulder and confess all his sins. I don't care how old Luke is, I don't care how annoying he is, I really don't care who he is. I can't let a human being mope around life wishing they were somewhere else.

Maybe I do want to save him. Maybe I want to see his eyes shine.

I'm a writer making less than forty thousand a year, and I want to save the man netting over fifty million in the last six months.

This was a huge filler again, but I think it's important to see Michael's emotions as well. 

Why do you think Michael cares so much? This all isn't his job, he just needs to look from a third person point of view and write what he sees. 

Why do you think Luke is always angry?

Is there more to Luke than meets the eye?