𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈

Saturday looked at her long and hard and saw her shiver slightly under his scorching gaze. It had been a while now since he had felt a white hot burning feeling inside his chest every time he saw his petite maid. He tried to dismiss the feeling but to his dismay, it only seemed to burn brighter.

"We have beekeeping club this afternoon. I need you as decoy." Saturday says coldly to his roommate.

Ethan scrunched up his face as soon as the words left Saturday's lips.

"Sorry. Two strikes." the boy says deeply, looking back at his painting. "I'm busy and bees totally creep me out."

"Oh and, Misaki, have you asked her what she wants to do? Maybe she doesn't want to be in the beekeeping club. I can't imagine why anyone would!" says Ethan venomously.

"No." returned Saturday's cold reply.

Ethan glared at the tall, lean boy in front of him.

"Well maybe you should." the tall, muscular, white blonde boy scoffs.

The two boys glare poison at each other.

"It's okay, really it is. It is my duty to look after Master Saturday..." says Misaki softly in her melodic voice as she trails off, trying to defuse the situation but not knowing what to say. She eyes her Master carefully. Ethan admires her big golden eyes, then rounds on Saturday.

"Why don't you ask Thing? Oh wait, you can't because he's mad at you." taunts the boy, widening his crystal blue eyes mockingly.

"Why's he mad? He's the one who screwed up with Rowan." says the black haired, obsidian eyed boy, matter-of-factly.

"All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels like you don't respect him as a person." came the deep, smooth reply as the young boy turned back to his painting.

Saturday's pupils manoeuvred routinely to land on Ethan. "Technically, he's only a hand."

"Saturday! He's your family. And so is Misaki." He looks up at Saturday, eyes pleading. "He and Misaki would do anything for you. Go apologise and I'll reconsider helping you. Woah~ Misaki you're such a good painter!" he reprimands Saturday as he pats Misaki on the head with his big, white hand. She blushes, giving her pale cheeks some colour.

Saturday furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly and looks at Misaki, as if expecting her to come. When she didn't look back at him, he stalks off without a word, leaving the werewolf and his maid.

☟☟☟

Saturday abruptly opens the black door of his dormitory and stalks inside. He looks at his side of the room, devoid of all colour with a gramophone, and a simple writing desk.

He hears the rustling of pages and glances toward Ethan's side of colourful explosion.

On Ethan's bed of colourful sheets, Thing flips a magazine as he takes in Saturday slowly.

Saturday stepped forward and said coldly and abruptly, "I snapped at you. I'll check my tone in the future. Now chop-chop, before all our leads turn cold."

The boy turned to go but Thing continued to flip his magazine, uncaringly.

Saturday stops and turns around. "First Misaki and now you." he snaps coldly. "What is it that you want? Hand cream? Nail buffer? New cuticle scissors?"

At the mention of Misaki, Thing seems interested and taps the magazine with all his fingers, one after the other.

"Consider it done." the pale boy finishes.

Thing immediately flips the magazine closed and tosses it over the bed. He taps expectantly with his long, pale, pointer finger.

Saturday sighs and then neatly sits on the bed with his hands one on top of the other.

Thing motions wildly with his fingers before it props itself up again.

"I know I'm stubborn, single-minded and obsessive." confesses the boy, looking down at the large hand. "But those are all traits of great writers." he finishes.

Thing plops down on the colourful sheets and makes a finger gun shooting motion. "Yes. And serial killers." agrees the floppy haired boy. "What's your point?" Thing frantically signals again.

"I have nothing to get off of my chest, and I am not submitting to your emotional blackmail." asserts the boy.

Thing taps the bedsheets with his fingers, one after another, like a wave. Then continues to tap only his pointer finger.

Saturday lowers his long black lashes. "Fine."

He reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out the fiery photo.

☟☟☟