„Where are you going?"

„Out."

„Where to, Blaine?"

„I'm going shopping with a friend, alright?"

"Shopping. With a friend. Would that friend happen to be a guy?"

"Yes, dad."

"Is he gay?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I asked you a question." Mr. Anderson got up from where he was sitting in his armchair and eyed his son who was standing in the hallway, his messenger bag hanging over his shoulder.

Pressing his lips together tightly, Blaine held on to the strap of his bag so hard, his knuckles went white. He didn't want to answer, he didn't want to go through this again. He was tired of it. But he also knew it would be way worse if he refused to answer.

"Yes." He finally said, trying to hold his head up high and not look intimidated by the tall figure of his father moving closer.

"Are you… a thing?" he asked, frowning. Yes, Blaine thought, in your eyes I probably am a thing, but that was beside the point and now what he had asked. Still, it send him in a rage how this was his biggest problem, how he couldn't just accept him. "No, dad," he said, "Just because I'm going out with another gay boy, that doesn't mean I have to date him."

"Well you better don't. That's not gonna help you with that phase of yours."

"Damn it, dad! It's not a phase, alright? I'm into boys, start dealing with it for heavens sake!" he called out. It was just too much, he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't keep calm anymore and just take his insults every single time.

"You are not talking like this in my house." His father growled and stepped yet closer. Blaine tried his hardest not to back away, but stay put. What was he supposed to do anyways, this was ridiculous.

"Well, I am. This is who I am, I'm attracted to boys. Get over it."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh, because you're not the one constantly telling me not to like boys? But guess what, it's not gonna happen, I'm not changing just to please you because honestly, I don't fucking care what you think!"

Snap.

Blaine froze and stared at his father, it took him a moment to realize what just happened. Slowly, he reached a slightly shaky hand up to his cheek to touch the hot, burning skin there. "You hit me." He whispered, eyes fixed on the still lifted hand of his father.

He just stepped closer, bumping his chest against Blaine's and sending him stumbling back. He hit the back of his head on the newel and gasped heavily. "Yes," he father said and cornered him even more. "And I am not afraid to do it again if you decide to keep that up." He growled.

Blaine reached up to feel his head and winced. As he pulled his hand back and looked at him, he hissed at the sight of blood on his fingers. He reached back again, patting at his curls. It wasn't much and it wasn't severe, but it had still happened.

He looked over and caught sight of his mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He pleaded, begged her with his eyes to come and do something, to help him somehow. But she just looked down on the bowl with potatoes and turned around, walking back in the kitchen.

That was the first time his father had hit him, and the time had found out that no one would be there to help him.

That had been a year ago.

Nowadays, there was barely a time when Blaine did not have any bruises or cuts on his body, may it be directly from his father or from hitting various objects in the attempt to get away. Which never worked.

Right now, they had been on their way to his grandparents – here's hope he would get a couple of days to relax and not be constantly scared there, though his grandparents were very stern and certainly not happy with his sexual orientation, he hoped that his dad would at least not beat him in front of them. But he didn't want to get his hopes up.

But only 20 minutes after they had left, the car had broken down. So they had to call a towing service and have their car brought to a garage. Blaine liked cars, kind of. He knew a little about them from his dad's previous attempts of bonding and making him straight – before he had went on to beat the crap out of him instead.

So when they arrived at the place called Tires and Lube, he looked around, letting his eyes wander over the different types of cars and the supplies for them.

Just when he concentrated on one specific piece that looked kind of interesting, a balding, smiling man walked towards them. He wiped his hands on an old cloth and tossed it onto a counter before he stopped in front of them.

"Welcome to Hummel's Tires and Lube, how can I help you?" he asked friendly, his eyes dancing between his mom and dad.

"The car broke down, we would really like to get going soon again, so we'd appreciate it if you'd hurry." Mr. Anderson explained coolly and the man, who's nametag said 'Burt Hummel' nodded carefully. Blaine almost wanted to apologize for his father, but then again he knew how that might end. So he just shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed the ground.

"Are you alright, son?" he suddenly asked and Blaine's head snapped back up. He had not expected that.

"I wish." He father mumbled and Mr. Hummel frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing, would you get on the car instead of pampering him?"

"…What?"

"Well people constantly being like that around him won't make him normal and manly either, so I'd appreciate you stopping."

"Dad…" Blaine whined, still looking at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, what exactly is it you call normal?" Mr. Hummel asked and crossed his arms defensively.

"Certainly not what he has going on. Maybe if he would spend more time working on cars and playing football instead of watching musicals and singing pop songs, he would get over this… this boy-liking-phase." He spit out and Blaine's shoulder slumped even more.

"So you're going down on him for being gay, do I see this right?" he asked, straightening up. Blaine dared to lift his head and glance up to him. His face had gotten a different look, it looked like he was ready to kill and Blaine wasn't really sure why that was.

"I don't see why that would be any of your business." Mr. Hummel said, his face a blank mask.

Mr. Hummel pondered for a moment before he turned and waved to some other guy working in the back. "Joe!" he asked loudly and his head lifted. "Take care of their car, would you?"

The man nodded and came forward, introducing himself one more before he lead they way and asked the family to follow him.

Just when Blaine was about to follow, he felt a hand on his arm – and automatically jumped. Mr. Hummel immediately pulled his hand back and frowned. "Hold on a second." He said and Blaine nodded slowly. His parent's hadn't even realized he wasn't with them.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah…"

"No, I'm serious. I see you're not." He said concerned before a different expression took over. "Is that…" he tilted his head and Blaine noticed his sleeve had slid up and was now showing his bruised wrist. Quickly he pulled it down again and looked down.

"I, uhm, hit my hand while…"

"Don't even bother." He shook his head and bit his lip.

"You should tell someone."

"I'm fine."

"No. You know what? Hold up." He turned and walked towards the counter, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling on it. When he returned and handed it to him, Blaine was looking at a phone number.

"This is my land line number. If things get worse or you need anything in general, I want you to call me, alright?"

Blaine was stunned. He couldn't believe some stranger who had no idea who he was and who had just found out he liked boys would be so nice to him. He had learned the world wasn't as kind as he wanted it to be.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly.

"Because I'm tired of people being so intolerant. I fought this fight for my son already, no one deserves to have be treated like that."

"Your son?" Blaine asked carefully, not wanting to overstep.

"Yes, I have a son, he's your age. He's gay as well. I'm not letting anyone tell anybody that being gay is wrong. Because it is not." He said sternly.

Blaine just looked at him, looked at the man who was the father of a son who was like him. And he still loved him. He protected him and even gave some strange kid his number to call him if he needed help. He was looking at the definition of a perfect dad.

"Blaine!" he suddenly heard a sharp voice and turned to see his parents return.

"Yes."

"There you are, what are you doing?" Blaine shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and walked towards them.

"Nothing, we were just talking about cars." He said quietly and through he frowned, Mr. Anderson nodded.

"Whatever. We're leaving." He ordered.

As they exited the shop, Blaine turned again.

"Thank you." he mouthed.

Mr. Hummel just smiled and nodded. He really hoped this would work out.

TBC