Requiem [COMPLETED]

Beer Foam and Shattered Dreams

June 30th, 9:02 p.m.

Seamustus: WYD tonite?

Svenjamen: Dude.

Seamustus: Dude what. Sigrid's gone for like, a long time. Do what you want.

Svenjamen: Uh yeah, exactly. It's 9pm.

Seamustus: And...

Svenjamen: I'm not working. Hence, I've already eaten, showered and am chilling.

Seamustus: Ok, so you don't want to have to get your head in a state to go back out and deal with ppl?

Svenjamen: For 'going out and dealing with people' you know damn well you should inform me at least a week in advance.

Seamustus: Oh duh...cool if I bring some beer over and we chill?

Svenjamen: 'Course bro. For you, open door.

Seamustus: Cool bro.

July 2nd, 5:17p.m.

Seamustus: Just got off work. Do you wanna hang out?

CoCaptain: Let me ask my mom.

Seamustus: ?! But you're 22, you live on your own.

CoCaptain: She said no.

Seamustus: Fucking wuss. Bet she's not even there.

CoCaptain: I'm not turning down free supper with my sisters. Laters!

Seamustus: You're so fucking lame.

CoCaptain: Lame and fed like a Christmas goose /_>o<_/ [victory pose]

Seamustus: You're officially uninvited. Later loser.

"Watch out! We're going to hit a street light if you don't stay off the motherfucking curb, what are you, a moth?!" Fuck me. I knew how much Seamus has been drinking, why the fuck had I let him drive? Clearly I was drunk enough to have made several dumb decisions.

"Fuuuuuh yeah we arrrrrre," Seamus slurred.

"Goddamnit, pull over the damn car. Now Gallagher, now!

Seamus breathed deeply before carefully enunciating, "Isss not about hooow many missssakes I make," he said, popping the 'k,' "isss about hooow many times I get back up and rrrry again."

"That's not how accidents work. That's not how sobriety tests work either." Then I yelled, "PULL OVER!" in an ear-shattering pitch, due to sheer terror as he careened against a curb and narrowly missed hitting a traffic light's pole. Which had been on my side of the car. "Jesus Seamus you're slurring and bashing the curbs like we're in a pinball game. Pull the FUCK over! NOW!"

"I'm not sssurring my words...I am speeeeking in cursifff," Seamus retorted.

I grabbed the wheel with my left hand and kicked his feet, making him instinctively curl his legs, pulling them in towards himself so I could stomp on the brakes. He thumped his head on the wheel and I heard him swearing as I felt warm blood dripping onto my hand. If that was the worst that happened tonight I'd thank the Lord. I shoved him gently against the car frame so I could reach enough to throw the car in park.

"Fuck that hurt," was all he said. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing for a few minutes to calm down some.

The car shifted into gear and my eyes popped open. Seamus was—of course he was going to try to drive again. I had a death grip on the upholstery as he with exaggerated slowness pushed the gas pedal down and the car made its' way, more slowly this time, towards his house. I was froze. I was torn between screaming at him, jumping out of the car, and a strange shame that had me staying silent and still in the passenger seat, complicit in the whole affair and guilty from—shit what was that saying about glass houses and people throwing stones?