Summary: Kurt and Blaine have been together for a short amount of time, and spend some time talking about how they came out.
Author's Note: Blaine's story is, unfortunately, mostly based off of a true story. I wrote this a while ago, and was digging through folders and saw it, and thought I'd post it. Please no pity in the reviews, except if it's for Blaine. I hope you guys like it.
"And that's how it happened," Kurt said happily.
"I still can't imagine you on the football team," I said, resting a hand on his knee. He blushed, looking down at my hand on his knee.
"I was only a kicker," he said, giving me that heart melting smile. "So how did you come out?"
"It isn't the best story. Not as good as yours," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. He watched me, waiting for my story to begin.
"Blaine, you know you are always welcome in my office," Mrs. Hart, the guidance counselor at my old school said to me as I sat in the chair across from her. "However, I feel that you really should tell your parents about your sexuality, especially since you're being picked on for it. They'll be better equipt to help you.
"I'm just not sure how they'll respond," I said, speaking the truth. We didn't talk about these kinds of things in my family. I didn't even know their views on this kind of stuff.
"The only thing you can do is be honest and open. I'm not saying that they'll be very happy about it, but you're going to have to tell them eventually," she said, kindly. Mrs. Hart was very nice, but she seemed to be emotionally disconnected about things. Anytime I'd come to her with a problem, she'd just say "ok". It made it hard to tell what she was really thinking.
"I'll try," I said.
"At least you had her to talk to for a while," Kurt said, leaning his head on my shoulder. "Were you a sophomore too?"
"Yea," I said, then turned back to my story.
I stared down the food on my plate while my parents sat at the opposite ends of the dinner table, eating in the silence. "How was your day Blaine?" my mother asked, brushing her red hair out of her eyes.
"Fine," I mumbled, knowing I was already lying. I got beat up today, like every day.
"How is your schoolwork?" Dad asked, looking up at me with his green eyes. People say I look a lot like him, since we both have black curly hair, but I have my mother's eyes.
"Its fine," I said again.
"Any tests coming up?"
"No."
The silence set back in. I stared at my plate, thinking that I'd definitely puke if I ate anything off of it. I just had to say it. That's all I needed to do.
"Is there something wrong?" Mom asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and then looked at my dad.
"I-" I started, hesitating. "I'm gay."
An eerie quiet set in at the table, like how it gets outside before a tornado sets in. My father excused himself from the table, my mom chasing after him. I heard him slam every door he went through as he went upstairs.
"So he didn't accept you right away?" Kurt murmered.
"He still doesn't," I whispered back. "Neither of them do."
"Blaine, can we talk to you for a moment?" my mom asked when I came home from school the next day. I followed her into my parents room, my tail between my legs, and sat down in the chair by her vanity. She was sitting on their bed, and my dad was lying on it. "Blaine, you have to understand how upset we are about this. We've had dreams for you to become something great, like a lawyer or a doctor, but now all we see are the doors of those dreams being closed. You've ruined our dreams for you." she was tearing over, but not too badly.
"What do you mean?" I asked, staring at her.
"Because of your decision, people won't sell you a house. You could never be a teacher. Your grandparents will never talk to you again. You're going to be homeless, and more likely than not you'll die of AIDs," she said steadily. "You're grounded."
"I'm…grounded?"
"Yes. I want you to go into your room and get anything out of there that involves gay pride or whatever. I want you to write down all of your email and computer passwords, and we're moving your computer into the living room. When you come home from school, you study, do any extra circiulars that you're obligated to attend, eat dinner, and then go to bed," she said.
"But that isn't fair!"
"It isn't fair for us to have to deal with having a gay son! I know you Blaine, better than you know you, and I know you aren't gay. You've put us through so much pain already, so I don't want to hear any complaints from you. Do as you're told," she said sharply. I stared at her, not believing this, until I was broken from the stare by the sound of sobbing. It wasn't my mom though. It was my dad. "Look what you've done Blaine. You've made your own father cry!"
I stared in horror at the man who I looked up to, my superman, now bawling his eyes out into a pillow. I bit my lip, using my technique that I use on bullies. Don't cry in front of them. It makes you look weak. If you look weak, they'll eat you alive.
"Just go Blaine. Go to your room and do what I told you to," my mother said, now crying herself. I went in my room, closing the door tightly behind me and cried.
"You're making this up," Kurt said, staring at me while my hands shook in my lap. I shook my head.
"It gets worse."
"How can it get worse?"
I did as I was told. All of my books that even mentioned someone gay in them were in a box, along with notes that I'd been writing to this boy I liked. I had my passwords written out on a piece of paper, and wished I could get into my computer and delete all of the conversations with this boy that I'd saved, just to reread and smile at. It was too late for that, since my mom was moving my computer into the living room. My dad still hadn't made another appearance.
I spent the rest of my day in my room, buried in my bed, until my mom came in and said that I needed to come out and watch Tv with my family. There's this show called What Would You Do? or something where they have hidden cameras and watch peoples reactions to things that actors act out, like a parents abusing their child in public and things of the nature. Of course, they'd have one about a kid coming out to his parent.
"I hate the phrase homophobic," my dad said, staring at the television. "It implies that you're afraid of fags. I'm not afraid of them. I just think they're disgusting."
"I agree," my mother said. I just wished I could die.
I could feel my own eyes welling up, reliving the story. Kurt put a hand on my back, rubbing small circles into it. I still held that defense mechanism, how I wouldn't cry no matter what. I never cried in front of my parents. I didn't cry when the boy I liked had to move schools, since his parents found out that I had a crush on him. I didn't cry because I had to be strong for my parents and for that boy. And now I had to be strong for Kurt, so he couldn't see how it was like a knife being dug into my stomach and twisted when I thought of this.
"They mellowed out now though?" Kurt asked. "I mean, we're together and they know about us."
"They pretend we're just friends. They still make comments like that anytime someone gay is on tv. Anyone slightly fabulous my dad calls a queen," I said, staring at my hands still. I'd never tell Kurt what they called him behind his back. I didn't want him to have a knife in his stomach too.
"I'm sorry Blaine. I am so sorry," Kurt said, tears trailing down his cheek. I gave him a tight hug, still not crying, still being strong.
"It's ok Kurt. Let's not think about it anymore," I said, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulder. "Let's go watch a movie or something."
"Blaine, are you sure you're ok? You seem so…robotic about all of this…" Kurt said, putting his fingers in my hair while my arm was still around him. I nodded.
"I don't have much of a choice. I have to be ok with it, or I have to die," I said simply, remembering how I almost did the latter. Remembering the cold water in the bathtub and me sitting there, freezing. Rocking back and forth, apologizing to my parents for not being good enough. Apologizing to that boy for ruining his life. Apologizing to his parents for putting stress on them. Apologizing to God for being disgusting and an abomination. I would've done it, if my mom hadn't banged on the door and told me to get out of the tub. Her way of showing that she still cares. She cares, but just thinks I'm disgusting for who I love.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked. "Did you hear me?"
"Huh?"
"Do you want to watch Rent on Broadway? I got it on dvd," Kurt said, thinking that this conversation was a bad idea. I nodded, nuzzling my head into his shoulder.
"I would love to Angel," I whispered, wiping a stray tear on his jacket shoulder. I wasn't going to let myself cry. No matter what, I was going to be strong. I was going to be strong for everyone.