After years of slaving away on the tennis courts between academic lessons, attending countless tournaments and challengers all over the country, and even participating in the Junior U.S. Open this year... graduation season at Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy is finally in full swing.

Art's got his acceptance letter to Stanford in the fall, you have yours for UVA, and Patrick's planning to hit the pro-tennis court as soon as he's handed his diploma and tossed his cap into the air. Your collective futures are clear; professional tennis won't know what hit it once you all enter the fray and start climbing the rankings.

... Only, none of you want to say goodbye. Birds of a feather; a common phrase used by all of your teachers and coaches to describe you, Art, and Patrick at MRTA. If one of you was somewhere, the other two often weren't far behind. It was practically common knowledge that you were Art and Patrick's unofficial third dormmate, given how often you spent your time there (even if the faculty had vehemently voiced their disapproval of the arrangement repeatedly).

Tonight's like any other night; you're tucked between them as you all sip a lukewarm beer Patrick smuggled into the dorms, and sound minds have gone hazy with the alcohol and mixed feelings rising to the surface.

"M'gonna miss you guys," Patrick says while passing Art the can so he can have the last few dregs. The words seem foreign coming from the most closed-off of you three, and the Zweig boy scowls. "Hey— I really am. What am I gonna do without my favorite idiots?"

Six years of tennis boarding school unites people together, but if it were forever in this case, it'd be even better. You're ready to let Patrick have it, but Art's sniffling at your left puts that on hold.

"I-I don't know what I'm crying for," he's quick to say, eyes downcast while he wipes away the beginnings of tears, but it's a shared sentiment. It's clear how much love is present in the room.

It's there, and it's real— don't act so surprised!