Jonny watches as his roommate finally slinks out of the comfort of his bed and onto the floor. Slowly, Thanatos rubs at his eyes and shuffles to the bathroom, not sparing Jonny a single glance. Too tired, as Jonny has noticed he is every morning they’ve been roommates. It surprised him, at first, that he was the early riser of the two.

“Morning, Toasty!” he calls, and he gets a grunt in return.

Thanatos pauses in the doorway, turns around, and begins patting his bed. When nothing appears, he searches his bag. Jonny laughs.

“Whatcha looking for?”

He grumbles, “My phone. . .”

Jonny squints, and he scoots over on his desk chair. “Bro, you left it behind, remember? You said you were recording something.”

Thanatos stares at him for several beats before groaning, smacking his own face, and dragging his hand down in misery. “God dammit.”

“You seriously forgot?”

Grabbing his pillow, he thwacks it hard into Jonny’s face and once more shuffles off to the bathroom. Jonny picks it up for him and places it back, and he otherwise leaves Thanatos to stew in his own half-awake thoughts.

And stew in his thoughts, he does.

The bathroom is as immaculately clean as ever, and for once, he wishes it wasn’t. Thanatos can see himself in the mirror perfectly, and that includes his dark circles and his awful bed hair. Holding up his arm, he can see the poor state of his arm’s bandages. It’s time to rewrap them, he supposes, so he makes sure the bathroom door is locked. He scoffs, as if Jonny would intrude on him in the first place.

On his side of the sink, he reaches into a drawer housing his personal first aid kit, and he sets it on the counter. Inside, he finds a pair of bandage scissors and what little remains of his current roll. The old bandages come off quickly with a few snips. It’s not as if they’re dirty from wounds; these wounds are old in nature and appearance. Soft, pale scars, thin just like the razors they’re from cover his forearms unsparingly. He runs his calloused fingers over them and sighs. It’s already been ten years.

Thanatos rewraps them quickly before moving on to his normal morning routine: dry shampoo to last him until the evening, teeth brushed to hell and back, face washed to avoid breakouts. Hair half up today? Sounds fine; if Sibylla can pull it off, so can he. He takes the time to braid the sides and bring them together with the top half of his hair into something approximating a messy bun. The rest stays down and loose, letting the true waviness of his hair free from his usual over-the-shoulder braid.

With a final look in the mirror, he decides this should be fine, and he exits. Jonny tosses him something, and he barely manages to catch it.

“A breakfast sandwich?” he asks. Jonny grins.

“You were in there a while, so I ran and got one from the caf.” Jonny points to Thanatos’ laptop, resting on his desk, with his thumb. “You should check for an email from lost and found.”

Thanatos unwraps the sandwich, takes a bit, and sits. “Who runs it?”

“Uh, Rina, the secretary.”

“Ah, the tall girl from the headmaster’s office. I recall.” He holds the sandwich in his mouth as he types away. Muffled, he says, “Nothing.” A bite and swallow. “That’s problematic.”

Jonny slides over and rests his elbow on Thanatos’ shoulder. Thanatos pulls away slightly, but he sighs and relents. Jonny hums. “If you talk to her at lunch, you should be able to ask for it.” He leans in and takes a bite from the sandwich. “Real dumb of you to leave your phone, though, smartypants.”

Thanatos groans and pushes Jonny away by the face. “Don’t remind me. Plus, being called stupid by you makes it worse.”

“Wow, rude!” Despite his words, Jonny laughs it off. “Anyway, I’ll tell Rob, so that way she knows to text me and not you.” Thanatos nods.

“So be it.”

“So be it,” sighs Rebecca.

Winnie nods. “Thank you, ma’am.” She sits at the long conference table in the student council office, alone in the room with Rebecca, who’s seated at her desk at the head of the table. “That seems to be everything regarding the teacher’s concerns from the last staff meeting.”

Rebecca rubs at her temples. “It only grows with every moment, Winifred. At this point, a disciplinary committee might be necessary.” With vague, frustrated gestures to the room, she continues, “Some of these fools don’t know how to behave, and I get the brunt of it all; don’t they know when they misbehave, it all comes back to me before it even touches the headmaster?”

“Perhaps, if you spoke to the students more, you’d know why they lash out or disrupt class. . .” Winnie murmurs. Rebecca sits up straight, narrowing her gaze.

“Pardon me?” She aggressively taps her pen against her desk. “For the last time: if you’re going to say something, stop mumbling.”

Winnie shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. My apologies, Miss President, I was talking to myself.” Before Rebecca can respond, she continues. “There were still a few questions from students regarding the Halloween ball, mostly about food, but there was something—”

She waves her hand dismissively, “Unless it’s an emergency, I have my hands full with leading the committee itself. We’ve got everything under control.”

Winnie swallows and closes the notebook in front of her with a slam more forceful than she intends. “Fine, but the Theatre Club’s president still wants a meeting with you so he can talk about costumes and their performance times.”

Rebecca huffs and leans down to open her drawer, but what she sees— or rather, lack thereof —gives her pause. “That’s odd. . .” she says, and she begins going through the rest of her draws, digging and shifting contents around. She grows more frantic. “Could I have dropped it?”

“Dropped what?” Winnie asks.

“My planner. You wouldn't have happened to have seen it, would you?” Winnie shakes her head quickly, back stiff straight, and Rebecca groans. “You best not be lying, Winifred.”

“I’m not!” Winnie shoots up from her seat, blushes, and sits back down. Visibly panicking, she stares a hole into her lap. “If it’s missing, why don’t you ask Ato— er, I mean, why don’t you ask Mr. Briar to find it?”

Rebecca’s face goes red with frustration at the mention of him, and she begins pacing around the room furiously. Her hands gesture into the air nonsensically. If not for the comedic bounce of the puffy uniform skirt and Rebecca’s melodrama, Winnie would have half the mind to be intimidated, but instead she covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a small, amused smile.

“Don’t even get me started on him! What an annoying prick he is, constantly ordering me—” She points to herself. “Me!” Another shake at the innocent air. “—around like some kind of pet! As soon as he realized who I was, that boy should have been at my beck and call, but it’s as though the Hawthorne name means nothing to him!”

“Maybe it doesn’t?” Winnie supplies. Rebecca spins on her heel and pinches her nose’s bridge.

“Then he’s an idiot if I’ve ever seen one! Never in my life will I place myself in debt to him let alone for a measly planner.” She scoffs. “I can buy a new one, even though it’s a pain to replace something handcrafted like that.”

The other leans forward, and she pokes at the table. “But why pay for a new one if you don’t have to?”

“It’s not as if it will make a dent in the family's wallet, so why not?” Rebecca argues. “I’d rather spend my money and hold my pride than ask him for help, end of story. Why bring him up anyway?”

“Well—”

“No, actually, a better question: why bring him to the staff and council meeting at all?!” She kisses her teeth. “I was having such a nice morning that day, too, and he had to show up and ruin it!” Rebecca’s eyes lock with Winnie’s, and she stares her down as hard as she can.

Winnie’s smile dissipates quickly. “Well, um, I’d imagine he just wanted to see the staff and student council, really. . . Didn’t he say it was for his sister?” She fidgets. “Given his prowess as a detective, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was evaluating us as suspects for something.”

Rebecca takes a moment to think before she slides from her hands to her elbows on the table, bent over and crossing them. She taps the tip of her mary-janes against the floor to the tick of the room’s clock. “Suspects? For what? He’s just here as a guest student.”

Winnie hesitates, but she continues, cautiously, “Well, if something was going on at this school, then he’d be the one to call, right?” She licks her bottom lip. “Not that I would know of anything going on besides the usual, but his presence here isn’t exactly what I’d call subtle.”

“Most of us have some form of social status.” Rebecca’s eyes narrow and then dart away briefly. “More or less.” Winnie frowns. “But you’re awfully aware of him, Winifred. . .”

She crosses her arms, frown deepening. “So?”

Rebecca stands up straight once more and approaches her desk. “Forget it; his popularity is just annoying, especially with the staff! I mean, if I thought Mr. Thompson fawned over you, it’s nothing in comparison to his reaction to Mr. Briar’s presence at that meeting.” Winnie hugs herself tighter. “I’ve never seen a teacher so ecstatic over a guest under the age of twenty-five like that; the man wouldn’t stop talking about him during or after the meeting. . .”

Winnie starts to shovel her things into her bag, jaw clenched shut. Rebecca continues, finally reaching her desk and looking at Winnie from over her shoulder.

“Perhaps you’re jealous?” she asks, and the pen Winnie was holding snaps in her hand. Both girls watch as the red ink spills past her fingers.

After a beat of silence, Winnie swallows, and she swings her bag over her shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss President. I need to get to tutoring.”

“You’re excused,” Rebecca says, turning away. “And this time, don’t worry about the cleaning bill. I’ll take care of it.”

But before she can even finish her sentence, the student council room’s door slams shut, hard enough to make her wince. With a loud, strong sigh, Rebecca starts going through her drawers for one last check, and in her other hand, sending a fast message to the headmaster’s office about cleaning the ink.

“It’s a good thing I always keep a backup planner in my room,” she says with resignation. “I could’ve sworn it was in this drawer, though, but at least these are still here.” Reorganizing her mess, she pulls out several pairs of granny panties, satin and high-waisted underwear. Alongside them are several spare tampons, pads, and Hawthorne brand pain medications of various strengths. “So perhaps it was just my own bad luck losing it.”

When she finishes cleaning and locking up, Rebecca heads back to the dorms. The sun is setting, and the chilly fog air spreads relief through the layers of her uniform. She sighs, content. Her thoughts don’t let her remain that way for long, though. Of course she had to be left behind with Winifred of all people!

As she rounds the corner and makes sight of the dorm’s front entrance, two figures run out of the surrounding back woods, and she squints in an attempt to get a better look. One is blond, clutching what seems to be a hat, a bra, and a chained something-or-other. The other, however, has distinctly grey and white hair, olive skin, and a stockier body than his beanpole of a companion.

When Rebecca realizes where they’re headed, her heart briefly stutters, and she, too, runs full speed towards the back of the girl’s dorm building. As she gets closer, she can see the looks on their faces. Jonny is worried shitless, but it cannot match the raw concern of Thanatos’ own expression. It’s the most she’s seen come out of him.

Her legs push harder to catch up.