𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐗

"Uh, I got your invite." the green-eyed girl says uncertainly, her voice uneven, as she dangles the note in front of her. "Guessing you had Thing drop it in the tip jar?" she asks nervously, chuckling slightly. She had rarely ever seen the tall, pale, lean, brooding boy without his maid before.

"Good guess." Saturday replies coldly, no emotion on his sharp sculpted features. His eyes shone like black stars. Taylor almost lost herself in them.

"After our last conversation, I wasn't sure I'd even get to speak to you again, but..." as she was speaking unevenly, Thing drops himself off Saturday's mahogany desk, and the tall, pale, brooding boy turns his head for a second to look, before giving his attention back to the awkward girl at his door.

"Well, your note was so genuine and..." she trails off smiling slightly, nervous but excited, things that Saturday picked up immediately, and he felt a strange sense of annoyance, one that gnawed him from the inside out, because he keeps on seeing Misaki's gentle face in front of him. Why? It shouldn't be this way! He should have full control of his emotions. And he was finding it increasingly more difficult to brush the feeling away- as if he needed to do something about it.

"sweet." the girl finished, furrowing her thick eyebrows, accentuated by makeup. Saturday just stared back at her, with his luscious lips slightly parted. "Totally took me by surprise." she says sheepishly. Here she was, pouring out her heart, while he felt nothing.

"Me too." he replies coldly, robotically, but that was enough for Taylor, to whom he had never shown an ounce of affection for.

She smiled pleasantly, though there was still a line between her eyebrows. She lifts her eyebrows.

"Well, now that I'm here," her smile widened ever so slightly, "I'm glad I came." she says quietly. Saturday looks to the side slightly before looking back down into her pale green eyes.

She frowned. "You need a few minutes?" she asks. That gave Saturday the incentive to slam the door in her face. Trying not to betray how flustered he truly felt inside, the brooding, now furious, boy rounded on Thing. "Genuine and sweet? How could you do this to me?" he says, emphasising every word that came out of his sharp mouth as he pushes open a door next to the dorm door and stalks inside.

The young boy gives a frustrated sigh as he rummages through his wardrobe. His hangers were full of black suits, trousers, ties, jackets, shirts and outfits some with white accents. The shelf on top of his clothes were filled with various cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes. A black, woollen scarf hung off the side wooden shelf. Thing watches his young Master, perched on the black bed frame.

The pale, severed hand sharply snaps twice, getting the lean, black haired boy's attention. He turns his pale face towards the large hand.

Thing points down onto the bed. Saturday lets go of his favourite suit (the fashion emergency not even lightning could resuscitate according to his obnoxious roommate) and slowly walks up to his bed.

On his back and white checkerboard bed sheet was the darkly elegant black and gold tuxedo from the display window of Uriah's Heap.

"How'd you pay for it?" questions Saturday in surprise as he gently picks up the handsome tuxedo from his bed.

He looks back at Thing expectantly. Thing shows him his pale, stitched palm as the hand stands on the black metal, then the hand plops down and clutches the thin metal again.

The young boy sighs as he shakes his head slightly in understanding. "Five-finger discount, of course." he says quietly, then turns his head to examine the tuxedo on a black hanger.

Saturday smirks slightly back at Thing. The hand slides along the long, thin metal tube suggestively, sitting on his forefinger and middle finger.

"Thing, don't look." Saturday orders curtly and the hand quickly turns away, thumb on one side of the railing and four other fingers dangling off the edge, waiting.