Picture Us

Chapter 7: Multi POV

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF OVERDRINKING, NOTHING OVERLY GRAPHIC

POV: Keefe

Over the next 3 days, they made an unspoken truce, mutually agreeing that their dorm life and college life stayed separate and moving on from the conversation before. Keefe often sensed Tams eyes watching him every so often. He chalked it up to him still being worried about the drinking. This one time was enough.

"Tammy boy, why do you keep staring at me? If you have something to say, then say it!" Keefe half-screamed in a tone that can only be interpreted as sarcastic. He surprised himself with the yell.

"What...?" Tam asked, he seemed genuinely confused... but Keefe wasn't buying it.

"I've seen you staring ever since that conversation-argument-thing we had the other day, what is it?"

"I dunno, I don't think I've been doing anything... sometimes I look just in case you've become self-destructive again" he said so casually Keefe almost didn't understand what he was saying. After a few too many seconds of silence, he huffed and left quickly.

And then, as if it were fate, a single notification appeared on the corner of his open laptop screen. It was a grade report.

C+ in English.

He rubbed his eyes, blinking twice just to make sure he had seen it right. "How could this happen? I literally speak English" he said aloud, however inside he knew he had deserved it. That god awful sinking feeling in his chest was back.

"Why does the world always knock me down before I can recover" he breathed in frustration, at himself and at the universe.

"GODDAMIT" he screamed, loud enough to make Tam to not only notice, but ask as well.

"...Keefe? What happened?" Tam asked cautiously.

"Uh... nothing! I just messed up an art piece I was working on." He said, laughing. But he was lying, of course he was lying. He was always lying.

"Oookay...shut the fuck up then" he said sarcastically, eventually getting back to whatever he was working on. Keefe wasn't bothered to look. He couldn't care less. Tam could be trying to smash some girl in here and he wouldn't care. A funny feeling swirled in Keefe's stomach, and he had to tamp it down. The idea of Tam doing that with anyone was... he couldn't nail down the feeling. Something between annoyance and misery. As if the depressing blue of sadness was tinted green. It was an uncomfortable shade of teal. He groaned, in spite of himself.

Keefe stood up, head spinning, once again, a barrage of thoughts echoed through his mind, each more painful than the last. A distraction. All he needed was a distraction.

He muttered a half-thought over excuse to Tam on his way out. He found himself once again at a bar. Learning from past mistakes though, this bar was far away from Tam's place, but close enough so he wouldn't die on the way back.

He showed his fake ID to the bartender and started ordering drinks.

Drink after drink after drink. The bitter taste followed by his thoughts being blown away, finally experiencing the quietness he was wishing for.

He sat quietly at the bar, soaking in the quietness of his mind and the loudness of the bar. It sounded nice.

Drink after drink, he lost count after it passed six or something, but all he knew was that he couldn't make out the words on the menu anymore. They jumbled and rearranged in his head like a puzzle, except each piece was zipping past and making fun of him. Those fuckers.

Joining in lively conversations without a worry in the world, the alcohol drowned out his problems and clouding his mind. He was even bought a drink, a group of energetic friends who were wanting to extend their friend group.

Another duo of girls asked for his number, which he couldn't remember if he gave to them or not. Hell, he could barely remember if he replied or not. He would certainly regret that in the morning.

Drinking, all he could remember was where he was, his thoughts somehow not stringing together, Keefe knew he didn't like this but couldn't stop or make sense of it. This helplessness, this incompetency, it was awful, but for some reason it wouldn't stop.

"CannI gethe sscheck please" Keefe was surprised at how he sounded, but somehow his mind and body equally out of control. He paid, and stumbled away from the building, barely managing to take two steps, his legs buckling with every move. He brought himself to a park bench before collapsing with a grunt. His head pounded, praying that it would stop spinning and the world would stand still.

As his mind began to grey, still drunk as ever, he heard a muffled yell from nearby, sounded urgent. Even though the urgency was there, Keefe couldn't make out a single word they were saying, either that or he couldn't remember a single word they were saying...

POV: Tam (Time: Beginning of chapter)

Keefe was acting weird, and Tam knew it. He thought he was being secretive by watching him for a few minutes every day, apparently that was all in his head. Keefe had to bring it up and ruin the whole 'I watch over you' vibe because of his loudmouth. Tam tried to play it cool when professionally denying the allegations, thankfully Keefe gave it up and left so that he could panic in peace.

"GODDAMIT" Tam jumped from the sound, thankfully Keefe didn't see it. "I'll just ask I guess" Tam muttered.

Keefe's answer made sense, but when Keefe left so quickly after his outburst something felt wrong. Something was off with Keefe's answer though, he never yells at anything, not even at Tam, let alone his precious artwork. It was one of Keefe's very few saving graces. Something was very wrong. Tam groaned.

As Tam came to this conclusion, a rush of worry set in. Keefe was going to make another bad decision and probably do more harm than last time. Fuck.