Tina sighed and leaned down on the bed next to Blaine. He was never going to return the feelings she felt for him. It wasn't even his fault—That's just who he was. She liked him, and he liked other boys. She still felt heartbroken, though. Tucking her head under his chin, she cuddled into his chest, holding one of his hands. It had been an exhausting week. She would just take a quick nap before heading home… Mrs. Anderson placed her Chanel bag down on the kitchen table and looked around. Blaine's car was in the driveway, but she didn't hear the usual music coming from his bedroom. "Blaine?" She called out. No response. He hadn't been feeling well lately, and she figured he must have fallen asleep. Mrs. Anderson herself had had a long day at work. As a prosecutor, her cases were usually pretty challenging. She took her laptop and ventured into her office, hoping to work on her opening statement. She'd write the first half, go wake Blaine, and then start on dinner. A clearing of the throat woke Tina, who was groggy. Standing in the door way was who could only be Blaine's mother. She was petite, with olive toned skin and almond shaped eyes. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, and she stood with her arms crossed, her lips pursed, and an eyebrow raised. Tina sat up quickly and smoothed her hair. She looked back at Blaine, who was slowly waking up. "Mom?" He said, his voice cracking. "Hi, honey." If Blaine's mother hadn't known he was gay, Tina figured this situation would be much more awkward. His shirt was unbuttoned, she was asleep on his chest, and they were both on his bed. "What time is?" Blaine asked, sitting up. He started buttoning his shirt. "It's six." "Six? I should go, I was supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago…" Tina said, glancing between the mother and son. Blaine nodded. "Thanks for hanging out with me, Tina. I'll see you tomorrow." She grabbed her bag and walked towards the door, pausing, trying to think of something to say. "I, uh, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson." She got a tight smile in return. Mrs. Anderson waited until she heard the front door close before going and sitting on the edge of her son's bed. Blaine took a sip of water and stretched his arms above his head. "She's cute." Blaine let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not like that." "Then what's it like?" He rolled his eyes. "What, mom? I can't sleep next to a female friend without her being my girlfriend?" "Well, you were more than just next to each other; and your shirt was unbuttoned." "I'm actually not sure how that happened, when I went to sleep it was buttoned, but when I woke up it wasn't-" "Wait, what?" "Never mind." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "It seems like she likes you. You could always…" Blaine's mother didn't finish her sentence when she saw her son's face. "Always what, Mom?" He asked angrily. "You know what I mean." "No, I don't. I'm gay. Not straight, not bi, not curious. You know this. Stop trying to change me." Shaking his head, Blaine got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. The lock clicked, and the shower started running. Mrs. Anderson loved her sons. She didn't approve of all the decisions they made, but she loved them and wanted the best for them. It was her responsibility as a mother to take care of her children. She had always taken care of them. She didn't want to upset Blaine, but she was older than him. Wiser. She had seen more of the world, more of the people on this earth. There were worse places to be than Ohio. She wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't just a phase. Who knows what would happen in ten years? Blaine could go to school for something practical (as opposed to majoring in musical theater), meet a nice girl, settle down… It's how her husband had done it, and look at their life now. Big house, fancy clothes, expensive cars, high profile jobs… Cooper had been at an Ivy League college until he dropped out, and Blaine had been at the best private school in the area until he transferred for a boy he wouldn't even be seeing a year later. Mrs. Anderson walked down stairs. She turned on the oven, took a box of eggs from the fridge, and started cracking them in a bowl. Mr. Anderson arrived home right after the quiche had been put in the oven. He kissed his wife on the cheek and poured himself a glass of wine before sitting at the table, flipping through the mail. "How was work?" The standard question. "Fine. The Oliver case is such a pain, though. Seven witnesses that agree on what happened but can't agree on the minor details. How hard is it to remember the color of a car that was parked outside your apartment building for three days?" Mr. Anderson chuckled. "Blaine feeling better?" "I don't think so." She muttered. Mr. Anderson glanced up at his wife. "What happened?" Sighing, she leaned against the counter and turned to face him. "I think he's mad at me. He got upset with some things I said, earlier…" "He'll get over it." That was the thing. Just like Tina's crush, you know what you should do, but it's what you feel in your heart and not your head that makes your decisions for you.