50 Shades of Drake 5 and 6

More Life: Chapter Eight

    Aubrey "Drake" Graham was known for pouring himself into his work. He was one of few artists who'd consistently put out albums, mixtapes, and other projects every single year. Prior to blowing up in the entertainment industry, he'd known the faintest feeling of struggling. Sure, other people had experiences much worse than his own upbringing, but he'd known was it felt like to have to save money before buying something he wanted. He'd known the feeling of longing for wealth, or simply the ability to buy whatever he wanted without having to save for months on end. Throughout much of his adolescence, he'd lusted for the life. 

    Friends and classmates saw him on Degrassi and assumed he'd already made it. They assumed he was already wealthy, and there were times when he played into those assumptions. Those assumptions had led to dates with girls he'd previously thought were out of his league. Dates with those girls had led to him really wanting to be able to back up his claims. 

    Breaking into the rap game was risky. He'd gained an audience with his acting, and switching it up with rap - even with his show character having dabbled in it - was taking a major leap of faith. There were many doubters around him. He was Canadian, too light-skinned, too privileged, an actor on top of all of that. What struggles did he have to rap about? What would his brand be? Although the move was risky, that risk paid off and he became the biggest name in the game. Once he'd tasted success, it had become somewhat of an addiction. Born from that addiction was the obsession of keeping his spot at the top. So, he used to release albums and music projects every single year, used to tour nearly every year. 

    When Aubrey shifted his focus to business and shaping other artists, he'd attacked that challenge with a similar fervor...but now that he was touring again, he started to lose himself. Performing music was the one element capable of distracting him from thoughts about Destiny. Once tour rehearsals started, they took over his life. He wasn't out of shape by any means, but it had been some years since he'd last toured. Being in shape for tour was a bit different than being in overall good shape. He had to train his voice so he wasn't losing it every few days, from shouting into the microphone. A lot of stretching was required, for how much he tended to jump around onstage. His ongoing love for playing basketball kept him from being rusty in that aspect. With touring came club appearances...the bane of his existence, but necessary as it was expected. Show a little love to the city who came out in droves and showed love to you, that was the name of the game. 

    While taking selfies with his fans, it was easy to forget that he'd lost the love of his life. There was so much love thrown at him that he was overwhelmed by it. Fan love had a much different, much more potent feel than the respect he'd earned in the business sector. People couldn't get enough of him. They grabbed for his shoes and his pants while he was onstage or standing on a platform in the club venues he visited, screamed for him until their throats went sore. He found himself getting drunk off of the adoration. A significant amount of love had been lost from his life and replaced with a love so pungent that it bordered on being toxic. 

     Each night, he gave his all during his performances and then remained on the stage, even as the lights dimmed, allowing the screams to wash over him. Sweat poured down his face, and he could feel it rolling down his back. He turned his head left and peered out into the crowd as if he was trying to memorize the faces of everyone standing there. Then he turned his focus to the center crowd, breathing heavily and mopping some of the sweat off of his face with a towel that had been thrown at him as the show wound down. Then he was looking off to the right, just basking in the feel of entertaining and being an entertainer. 

    "This night is very important to me," he said into the mic, his voice low. "It's been too long for us, hasn't it? Longer than it should have ever been, the time we've spent apart. And now we're back together, in this arena, spending a little bit of quality time. I'm loving every minute of it. You can tell I'm loving every minute of it, because I haven't walked off the stage yet. The music played me off, but I stayed here. With you. With every single one of you."

    More screams. The attendees at the back could've tried slipping out, to beat the concert traffic rush, but they stayed. He was staying, and so were they. This wasn't a fact that was lost on him.

    He held the mic in front of him and started humming low into it. It wasn't a song he'd written, per se. They were just notes he was feeling in the moment. He didn't know where the notes were taking him, but he followed them and continued to him, closing his eyes. And then there she was, floating before him in long white robes, stretching her arms out to him. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, but he continued humming. It was one of those rare moments that broke through the music and the performing, one of those moments where he remembered her and wished that she was here to experience this with him. After all, it was she who pushed me back into music, he thought now, opening his eyes while he hummed. I was so fucking stubborn, and actually punished her for pushing the subject because I'd missed making music so much. That was a wound that was still raw, and she pushed and pushed, insisting that I should return to making music if I missed it so much. She was so sure that my fans would welcome me back with open arms and here I am, being welcomed and adored by them...and she's not here to see it. What meaning does it all have, if she isn't here to experience it with me?

    The lights turned down and still he hummed into the mic, but he started backing away from the front stage. "Thank you to everyone who showed up tonight," he sang into the mic. "Thank you for making the drive, and for chilling in the cut tonight. Wishing that all of your days are bright, wishing that with all my might, because you took the time to hear my rhymes, and that fills my heart with light." 

    A few squeals sounded near the front of the stage, and that section seemed so far away from him now. Still, he continued to put more space between the audience and himself.

    "I dubbed this tour Boy Meets World, because each of you mean the world to me...and each of you ladies in this crowd is like the prettiest pearl to me. Not to leave out my boys, who are all here by choice, to hear my voice. Thank you, and I'll see you all next time."

    He wiped at his face with the towel again as he headed backstage, flanked by bodyguards and friends. His phone was handed to him, but there was no one he cared to hear from. Mark rattled off which club they were heading to for the night, and it would be another night of drowning in liquor and being unmoved by the sea of asses angled up at him.