A tall boy sits dejectedly on his bed, turning a long piece of wood in his hand. He stares at it as if puzzled, as if he doesn't understand how it came to be in his possession. No one understands, really, but they learn to accept it, to embrace it. He has had four years to do just that, and he still cannot wrap his mind around it.

Another boy, perpetually running a hand through sandy hair, skips girlishly into the room and jumps onto the other boy's bed. He looks at his friend's dark, thoughtful face and gently takes the wand away from him. His friend doesn't look up from his hands. The blond boy sets the wand beside him on the bed and manages to stop his legs from twitching uncontrollably with pent-up energy. He looks at his dorm-mate, knowing what is going on in his mind, and takes a deep breath. He whispers something, and the other boy looks up, startled.

'What?' he says, barely audible.

'You deserve it,' says the other, louder this time, with conviction and a pronounced Irish accent.

They move at the same time, dark lips brushing against pink ones. For their first kiss, it is perfect, clumsy and soft and something they will remember forever and maybe that is a little cliché but they don't mind. The blond boy marvels at the strong artist's hands that have wrapped around biceps, wonders if maybe he can take one of them in his own. He wonders why he doesn't want this to stop, because he was just doing it to comfort his mate, and he wonders why it has stopped, so suddenly.

'Is that okay?' he says, pulling back slowly. He sees tears in his friend's eyes, and it surprises him so much, he lowers his own to stare at his feet.

'Yeah, it is,' the black boy says and then strong arms wrap around him in a tight embrace. He closes his eyes and melts into the hug. He doesn't know whose tears he feels on his cheeks but he doesn't mind because he knows that for the first time in four years it is okay.