It was obvious to Blaine from a young age that his family was different. It wasn't just the fact that his family seemed to be a lot wealthier than the rest of his school mates, though later on that fact helped him to figure out what it was that made his family stand out… or blend in?
They were the Andersons, the cookie cutter American family. His father was in what he called "finance", and his mother stayed home, cleaning and cooking all day so that nothing was out of place incase their father invited someone from work over for dinner.
If there was a guest then after dinner Cooper and Blaine would always be ushered straight upstairs, which, when he was younger, Blaine hated because it meant that he got no dessert, but as he got older he learned that his room was directly over his father's study. He no longer had to be told to go to his room after he'd cleared his plate, he basically ran to the little heating vent in his floor that allowed him to eaves drop on his father's conversations.
His father was always making business deals, and at the young age of 6 Blaine really had no idea what his father's business actual was. He would hear his father talking to their visitors, but he never really understood what they were talking about. He didn't fully comprehend what was going on right under his feet until a couple of years later.
He was 8 years old and still very excited about the prospect of Christmas. The tree was beautifully decorated, showcased in their large front window, presents piled high beneath it. One in particular that Blaine was very excited about, what he could only imagine was the baseball bat he had been begging his father for, for weeks! He didn't even like baseball all that much, but he knew that if he showed interest in the sport his father would have to teach him how to play. Though he wasn't even born yet when Cooper started to show interest in sports he knew that his dad was very much involved with teaching Cooper how to play soccer and basketball, he even coached him for a few years, and Blaine just wanted something that he and his father could bond over since musicals and bowties were not how his father spent his downtime.
But the night before Christmas Eve one of his father's coworkers came over, and after Blaine had finished his plate of lamb and potatoes he rushed to his room to listen in on the not so secret conversation. But this deal was different from the others, they talked in hushed tones and Blaine couldn't make out most of what they were saying, not until they started shouting.
Blaine sprung from his room immediately, running to find his mother. He was half way down the staircase, nearly dizzy from going around the large spiral structure so quickly, when the first crack sounded in from the living, echoing through the tall ceiling of the foyer, making Blaine's ears ring. He stood in horror, trembling violently as his father struck the man in the temple two more times, before stepping back. He sniffed loudly and wiped his hand under his nose before straightening his back, locking eyes with his young son who was still frozen on the steps. Blaine's father squeezed his eyes shut tight as if he were in pain, and when his eyes opened again Blaine was sure he'd never seen his father look more disappointed, but it wasn't Blaine whom he was disappointed in, it was himself.
Slowly the eldest Anderson climbed the stairs stopping one step above his youngest son. He didn't look at Blaine again that night, he couldn't, instead he held out the bloodied baseball bat with the snowman wrapping paper ripped and falling off, and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Blainey," before continuing up the stairs and disappearing for the rest of the night.