Hello! I haven't seen Soul Eater for 2 years and I haven't written fanfiction for even longer so I hope this turned out okay! If nothing makes sense tell me please! sometimes my writing doesn't make sense and no one understands what im trying to say lol. also im really bad a past/present tense so please bear with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

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Kid really hated Saturdays.

Saturday was the 7th day of the week. Not the 8th day, or the 88th day. The 7th day. Only one number short. Why was there only 7 days in the week anyway?

But anyway, Kid really hated Saturdays. It was Liz and Patty's shopping day, and they'd most likely spend $888.89 just to annoy him (using his credit card, thank you very much), Soul was probably off dragging Maka somewhere and if their fights got a little too violent and public, the civilians would immediately turn to him to sort things out. And lastly, it was the day of Tsubaki's weekly cleaning. And while he truly was grateful that someone besides him appreciated having a tidy living space, it also meant that she demanded the house to be completely empty so she would not get distracted.

Which leads us to where we are now.

"KID! I'M HERE TO HANG OUT WITH YOUR LONELY ASS."

Ah. 8:00, right on time. (Unfortunately.)

Inhaling and exhaling for 8 seconds, Kid leaned around from the mirror and put on his most pleasant smile, "Good morning Blackstar. How many times have I told that I am not lonely? Therefore, it is not necessary for you to visit me every Saturday because Tsubaki throws you out of the house."

Blackstar grinned and sat next to him on the floor, "Just making sure my favorite Shinigami isn't sulking because it's his least favorite day of the week!" Blackstar buried his head into Kid's neck and was slowly dragging his hands up and down Kid's back, "Besides, I thought I'd cheer you up with my godly face." Each word was punctuated with a small puff of air that tickled his neck.

He barely repressed a shiver and fought down the deep blush that stained his pale skin, "I'm the only Shinigami you know. I can't be your favorite if I'm the only one."

Blackstar stopped trying to subtly (meaning: very distracting obvious) undo the clasp that held up his black cloaks and hummed, propping his face up on Kid's shoulder, "Yeah… I guess so…." He smiled that charming odd closed eyes smile of his, "but you're still my favorite."

Finally giving into Blackstar's (surprisingly gentle) touch, Kid wiggled around and leaned back so his back was against Blackstar's slightly wider chest. Keeping his eyes trained onto the towering mirror in front of him, Kid listened to the soft sounds of Blackstar's breathing as the other began to nod off.

After a while of sitting in comfortable silence, he let out a small laugh and nudged the ninja, "Did you stay up late playing video games with Soul again?"

"Nah," Blackstar mumbled, still half asleep, "I was just excited to see you…" and there he went. Head thumping into Kid's shoulder as he finally succumbed to his drowsiness.

Fidgeting with some stray strings on Blackstar's shirt, Kid felt a dark flush settle over his cheeks as he willed his heartbeat to slow down. Blackstar's clinginess hadn't been sudden. It had sneaked up on him until they were curling up together on the couch during one of Soul and Maka's movie nights and Blackstar was carrying him over any puddles on the street. The small shoulder nudges and fist bumps had left his heart pounding every time until Liz was asking if he'd used any of her blush. He'd treasured every moment they were together because he had never had a friend who accepted him so wholly. Back then, he didn't think he'd get anymore; thought that this was all he deserved. But apparently, Blackstar had wanted things to change.

"I like you, Kid."

And things did change, and suddenly the moon was black and his father was gone. As the new Shinigami, he had to look after an entire school, give orders to the death scythes, and of course, watch the world through the mirror in the Death Room.

A room he was supposed to be in 24 hours a day.

"I… I apologize, but I don't see you in… in that way."

It was obvious, he'd always known he would be confined to this room one day. But he'd never thought of it as a burden. And it was nice, how his friends had made an effort to visit him as much as they could. Liz and Patty weren't officially his weapons anymore, but they still came to the Death Room every day without fail. And when their friends arrived, sometimes Patty dragged in a television as a way to somehow make it seem more like before. Often, it was the same. They were his best friends, just in a different place. But even now, it'll be a long time before he can go out and play basketball, a long time before Excalibur thinks he is powerful enough to actually leave.

Besides friends and co-workers, how does one form relationships while trapped inside a room? A room full of kishin graves was not the most romantic place on earth.

So Blackstar had left his side. When they had all gathered in the Death Room, he would always be absent, and the space was noticeable. He couldn't concentrate on anything without that warm hand on his knee, or those fingers brushing along the back of his neck, or the deep chuckles in his ear. Besides the vague comments from Tsubaki, he knew nothing of what Blackstar did those couple months. He could only wait until Blackstar would return to him.

"Please don't leave me again."

"I won't. I'll stay here with you. Always. Okay?"

Really, he should've known. Gods don't need to talk to understand each other. (Blackstar's eyes had told him everything he needed to know. He wouldn't ask for more than Kid could give.)

Kid laughed quietly and turned his head to press his lips against Blackstar's collarbone. The taller boy murmured in his sleep and wrapped his arms tighter around Kid's stomach.

Maybe Saturdays weren't so bad. Saturday does have 8 letters, Liz and Patty got to have sister-bonding, Soul and Maka had a date, and Tsubaki got some much deserved relaxation time with Angela.

And if he got to spend the day curled up against his favorite ninja, well, then he couldn't really complain.