ydg. duncan.

[eric]

Heat radiated from Messer's body, sweat dripping down the sides of his face from his hairline He grabbed his cordless mic tightly in his hand, screaming the last few lines of Still YDG'N into it angrily. He had never put this much anger into a show before. Maybe it was part of what happened with Duncan the other night. Well, not maybe, it was definitely that. The crowd was going insane, and Messer stood up on the edge of the stage, diving into the crowd. Hands reached up and caught him, passing him through the crowd. Lately the man had been getting angrier and angrier at everything. Everything. He felt like a ghost of the man he used to be. He was going to lose Duncan and Erica if he didn't figure his shit out. He knew that. Their fighting was getting so bad. Messer knew he was losing control, and Duncan was going to give up once it happened.

The man was let down at the edge of the crowd. Before he was attacked by fans, he jumped over into a gated tent and sat down against the podium/desk that held a bunch of computer shit. A Monster was handed to him and he popped it open and brought it to his lips, taking a sip. Duncan was right. He was doing it all alone. Messer looked up when he realized their fans were chanting his name.

"Messer! Messer! Messer!"

Messer chuckled, emotion surging through him, breaking through the dams. The laughter turned to sobs, and he started crying, putting a hand over his mouth. The crowd lingered with the hope of seeing him again, still chanting. Security led him through the tent and back to the stage where his band were getting ready to leave. Messer ignored them for the most part, grabbing his stuff, and drove home.

Once home, the man went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water released some of his tension but the rock in his stomach was still there. Closing his eyes, Messer breathed in deeply, just trying to keep himself from unraveling. He got out when the shower went cold and put on some basketball shorts. He sighed, wondering where Duncan and Erica were. They were probably trying to get away from him. He sat on the ground, his back against the side of the bed Duncan slept on. Inspiration struck Messer like lightning. He pulled out his lyric book and began writing, pouring his hearty into the pencil scratches on the paper, trying to bring to life what was going on inside of him. He didn't realize it, but the whole time he wrote, he cried.