Chapter Seven

James was trying to push a huge dragon's head through their dorm room door. Bits of green paper mâché was getting stuck to the doorframe as the large body followed its head.

'What's all this then?' Andrew asked in some bemusement.

'Sorry about this, I simply cannot keep it in the art room anymore. There are spies around every corner trying to gather information on our decoration plans for the sports meet.'

'Spies?' Andrew grinned. 'That's a bit dramatic.'

'It's really just Marie; she gets very competitive,' James replied in all seriousness, 'She's determined to win the decorating trophy as well.'

'I didn't see any of the cheetah decorations,' Andrew said as he came over to pull it in from the other side, 'I think the seniors are handling it.'

'They usually do, but the dragon-house seniors asked me to this year.'

The head popped through the door with a squelching sound and landed on Andrew, pushing him to the ground under its weight as he fell right into the hole of its gaping mouth. James pulled it off of him and started laughing at the messy boy lying on the floor, glue sticking up his unruly black hair and bits of wet, green paper stuck around his face and arms.

'I was just trying to help you,' Andrew pouted, peeling sticky pulp off his cheeks.

'Sorry, sorry, thanks for helping,' James snorted, unable to stop the quirk of his lips.

They lay the dragon's body on the floor between their two beds and James brought in cans of glue, paint, and a large roll of paper.

Andrew sat cross legged on his spot on the floor as he watched James carefully dip the paper in the solution and mold it into scales for the dragon's back. His long fingers were working expertly to craft the intricate shapes and the other boy watched in some fascination.

'It looks so realistic.'

'Have you ever seen a dragon?' James asked, feigning nonchalance as he looked up to scrutinize Andrew's reaction.

'Of course, in cartoons... do you need some help?' he asked dubiously, 'The meet is tomorrow; I'm not so good at crafting but I could dip those things and hand them to you.'

'I do need some help with the teeth,' James sighed as he ran a hand through the dark golden-brown locks that flopped over his eyes, 'But I was planning to ask some house mates.'

Andrew peeked inside the dragon's mouth and started rolling bits of paper into a conical shape when he saw that the guy was completely toothless.

'You don't have to do that,' James said, a flash of guilt momentarily passing over his features, 'I can manage it on my own.'

'You just said you were planning to ask for help,' Andrew pointed out, 'It's easier if I do it; I'm already here and I doubt you can fit anyone else into the room.'

James looked down at the large dragon taking up all the floor space and blocking the door, 'I really am sorry about this. It must be a terrible inconvenience.'

'I don't mind.'

James hesitated for a moment, his hands holding up the dragon's jaw as Andrew crept inside to fix the teeth, 'I thought you didn't like me much. I was terribly rude to you when you first arrived.'

'Oh....' Andrew's voice sounded muffled from within the head, 'That's alright. You must've been disappointed to lose your solitary dorm.'

'No, it's not that,' James shook his head sadly as Andrew popped his out from the dragon's mouth, 'It's just that... I wasn't really planning on making any friends here.'

'Why not?' Andrew demanded, amazed that anyone would go out of their way to not make friends.

'What's the point? They all die eventually and life has no real meaning anyway; it's fated to be a purposeless existence that we try to fill with inconsequential things that might help us ignore the fact that in the end— there's only nothingness.'

'I don't believe in anything after death either,' Andrew offered up, unfazed by the other boy's muddled rambling.

'You don't?' James was shocked at his own indiscretion but even more so with the other boy's agreement.

'When my parents died, everyone said they were in a better place—but that's just something they say to make us feel okay about it. It's much more terrifying to accept the fact that they're just gone and they don't exist anywhere, in any form, and I'll never see them again.'

'How did that happen?' James asked softly, his eyes a mirror to the countless years of understanding that didn't show on his young face.

'There was a freak accident at their workplace two years ago. There weren't even any bodies left over for a funeral.' Andrew's bottom lip trembled slightly at the memory. 'They were good parents though and I'm glad I had them for as long as I did.'

'Mine are dead too,' James whispered, 'I was glad when it finally happened.'

'Were they sick for a long time?' Andrew asked hesitantly, unable to imagine how they would even fall ill—or anything other than old age that would kill them slowly.

'They were just not good people,' was all that the other boy replied.

Andrew wondered horrifically at the childhood he must've had to wish his own parents dead. All he had were good memories of his parents. They were the only family he'd had, and now there was no one left.

Shimmering midnight eyes gazed into twin turquoise oceans as the concrete walls between them were torn asunder. For a brief moment, they saw each other for what they truly were.

Young, broken, and desperate to feel something beyond that.

They worked in silence for a while, each occupied by their own thoughts. James was staring at the wall Andrew had covered in posters when he'd first arrived; his uncharacteristic taste in punk metal bands seemed to make more sense now. He laughed suddenly and Andrew looked up in astonishment at the surprising sound. It really was a beautiful laugh, merry and tinkly in comparison to his usual deep tone.

'Buried alive in my own grave?' James inquired with a smile as he walked across the room and plucked a death metal poster off the coated wall.

'Oh, that's by, er, "As I lay dying."'

'Oh, have you?' James threw him a sideways glance.

'Have I what?'

'Ever been on a "killing spree",' he gazed at the poster of the popular song by "Death", his voice dangerously low.

Andrew started laughing awkwardly but stopped mid-chuckle as James's penetrative gave settled on him, watching his every move carefully.

'Do you listen to any kind of... music?' Andrew asked clumsily, knowing full well how lame he sounded.

James inclined his head slightly, his smile now reaching his eyes, 'Only classical.'

'Oh, you mean like rock classics, that's cool'

James shook his head, 'No dear, I mean classical like Beethoven and Bach.' He gestured to a small record player on his bedside table that Andrew had failed to notice before. Andrew's mouth hung open in surprise as James pulled open the drawer beneath it to reveal a neat row of records, clearly labelled and in order according to date and artist.

'You just sit quietly in the darkness whilst listening to classical music on your vintage record player?'

'Of course, that is the best way to enjoy it.'

'But that's so... creepy!' The words were out of Andrew's mouth before he could stop them.

James couldn't help laughing at that. He was glad that the tense moment had passed and that they were back to joking with each other.

'How old were you when that song came out?' James asked, nodding towards one of the posters.

'I wasn't even born yet... how old do you think I am?!' Andrew exclaimed. He sifted through James's records and read the covers of each one. 'I haven't heard of any of these.'

James had decided by now that his sister was quite right when she'd insisted that Andrew was really only the age he appeared to be. He could tell the boy wasn't lying when he'd spoken about his parent's death two years ago.

Andrew asked him to play something to set the mood for the rest of their dragon decorating and James managed to find something a little upbeat to pop in. Most of his records were pretty depressing but they simply didn't match any environment that the vibrant, messy haired boy was in.