"I'm not into guys, you know?" he said while holding Claude around his waist. "Most of us aren't. You and I both know it. But with no cute girls in this school, sometimes you just gotta... take what you get, right?"

"Mmm-h," Claude responded, swirling his long, pale fingers around the boy's curly brown hair. "Why are you telling me this, exactly?"

"I dunno....," the other replied. "Probably got a bit drunk. Wouldn't even be here otherwise."

"Fool," Claude laughed softly, mocking the other.

"We like you because you look like a girl, that's all."

Claude continued smiling, but this time through gritted teeth.

"And we fear you because you... Well, nobody can tell what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, y'know? You're smart, way too smart. It's kinda scary, ya know how to ruin lives if ya want to."

He was obviously drunk by the way he slurred words and sometimes slipped to an accent he had probably tried to hide. Claude knew he probably wouldn't even remember this moment between them at all tomorrow, much less any details of what exactly he had said to him.

And of course Claude knew.

He had known from the beginning that the flirting he did would not have been received the same way had it not been for the way he looked.

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He knew a lot of the respect that came from the others was purely because Claude knew how to be entertaining and not let too much out. He knew they liked him because he knew how to put up a show, and to appeal to their adolescent need for physical affection and some vague idea of romance without still going too far to risk their reputation.

It was a game, after all.

And really, Claude was not much different from them. He, too, yearned for that kind of affection. He wanted someone to hold him, feel someone else's presence close to his. He wanted to feel, even if for a moment, that he was the most important person to someone else. He wanted to be wanted and important even momentarily, to receive the validation he constantly found himself seeking.

So, everyone got something good out of this, didn't they? And nobody even got hurt if they knew what they were getting into, and everyone knew that.

But it did sting to be reminded during the moment Claude had been waiting for that this was all a ruse, but he swallowed his anger and disappointment, and focused only on the attention.

The boy opened his drunken mouth again, but this time he didn't get to say anything as Claude interrupted him. Smiling, but with a somewhat aggressive overall disposition, he spoke:

"If you don't want to continue your night in the principal's office for being busted for drinking, I'd really recommend you to just keep your mouth shut and do what you're supposed to do instead of babbling about. Are we clear?"

The boy flinched, and after a moment of confused hesitation, he slowly nodded.

"Fuck... Yer right. Sorry, don't tell anyone I got wasted. It's not like I hate ya."

"Good, then just stay quiet and don't think."

Claude wrapped his arms closer around the other boy as he kept playing with his hair, trying to forget the words he had heard, focusing only on the moment at hand.

The closeness he felt, the simple adoration he received.

It was enough. It was all he really needed to feel validated.

So, then, why did he let the boy's words bother him so?