Shaun had been gone for a while. The whiskey bottles that would of been in the wine cupboard (reserved for Shaun's 'waster sessions') were not there. His room door was locked, and if one were to walk by they could hear incoherent moans of grief followed by horrendously sounding coughs.

Shaun was indeed in there, on his laptop screen, a picture of a corgi, named Desmond. And out of all things, that reduced him to a man of emotional warfare. The subtitle 'Not funny universe' was typed out underneath it in illiterate english. He sat slightly slumped over, one of the bottles in his hand.