"Hey, Casey," Morgan grumbled suddenly.
They were seated beside each other in the lunchroom, Morgan's gaze having been on a distant table.
"Hmm?" Casey hummed, chewing on his fork.
"Did you really like Ryan?"
Casey glanced at him, confused for a moment.
"Of course," he replied. "Not any more though."
"Huh. Do you like girls?"
"Yeah. I am a teenager."
"Do you like boys?"
Casey looked thoughtful. He tapped his cheek, before shrugging nonchalantly.
"I suppose," he stated. "Ryan's proof of that."
Morgan looked at the ground.
"Do you think boys like you?" he asked.
"I don't know, I've never asked one."
"What would you do if a boy told you he loved you?"
"Be completely honest, even if it hurt him."
Morgan nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly, he stared straight into Casey's eyes.
"Are you a sadist?" he asked.
Casey stared at him. His face was completely neutral, his eyes showing nothing. Just as Morgan became uncomfortable under his gaze, Casey leaned back against the table, pulling his fork out of his mouth.
"Wasn't it obvious?" he replied with a question of his own, nibbling on the end of his fork.
Morgan blushed harshly, looking away and sighing.
"You're terrible," he stated.
"I thought that was obvious as well," Casey snickered.
"Shut up. Do you like hurting people then?"
Casey opened his mouth to reply, but Morgan held up his hand before he could, stopping him.
"Never mind, that's obvious," he grumbled, sighing heavily.
"S'not my fault," Casey stated. "I just like to see cute people-"
"Don't continue that thought. I'm disgusted."
"I don't want to know all about it!"
For a while, the two sat in silence.
"Do you think Isaac's a masochist?" Morgan asked.
"I wouldn't know. Just because I consider myself sadistic doesn't mean I have a masochist-tracker in my back pocket."
"You never know with you. You told people your family has ties with the mafia."
"That's part of the sadism."
"This conversation is gross."
Every once in a while, Casey wouldn't brush his hair. His naturally straight hair became fluffy and wavy, and a lot of people asked him why he didn't do it more often. He never replied.
Every once in a while, Casey would miss school. It wasn't because he was abused at home, it was because he was abused at school. One time, a girl made fun of him for speaking different from her. He'd fallen silent, his jaw clenched. After that, he didn't come to school for two days. When he did, he didn't talk as much.
"Are you okay?"
Casey always got that question. when he did, he smiled that perfect smile. He gently nodded, replying with an easy lie.
"Hey," Kaden muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, the way you speak is fine."
"So I'm told," Casey replied.
Kaden stared at him for a moment, before elbowing him.
"Stop whining, Ciel. I'll make you parfait," he said, speaking in a British accent.
Casey grinned back coyly.
"I've lost my appetite, Sebastian," he replied, crossing his legs, his accent going British as well. "Besides, your parfaits are horrible."
"Horrible, huh? Is that why you always ask for one?"
"I do that to make you feel better."