A/N: Hey. So, I went on a little hiatus there. But I'm back. And I wrote this. And I should be working on my other WIPs. But I'm not. But I wanted to give you guys something. And here is... something. I actually wrote it for my English class, because we had to write fictional short stories and this is the only way I could get anything out. So... yeah. In this story, Burt and Carole have married when Kurt and Finn were younger. Just keep that in mind.
I am also a beta-reader now, too. So if you want me to beta your work, just PM me and we can talk. Just a little self-promotion. Sorry bout that. Anyways, on to the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end. -unknown
"Mom? Dad? Can you come to the living room? I'd like to talk with you," Blaine announced one day.
"Sure. What is it, sweetie?" the mom asked, the "concerned" expression plastered on her face.
"Just come." Blaine led his parents to the living room, where he sat them on the couch and stood before them, heart thrumming in his ears.
Slowly, he took in a deep breath. Then let it out. Then in again. Then out again. Blaine couldn't do this. Not now. He wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready.
But his parents were already here, staring expectantly. He could do this, easy. He'd rehearsed dozens of times, done tons of research on the best methods, and even did a practice round on his older brother, Cooper, who took it great, by the way.
"Mom, dad," he acknowledged. "Thank you for coming here today." Blaine stopped and bit his lip, unsure of how to continue.
"Why are we here, son?" the father said. "We haven't got all day, you know."
Blaine nodded and tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. The brochures and websites said it'd be hard, but he never thought it'd be this hard.
"I would just like you both to know that I'm…" Blaine gulped.
"You're what?" the mom asked.
"Spit it out, boy," the father demanded. Blaine shrunk a little further in on himself, greatly fearing the man who stood before him.
In a small voice, Blaine announced, "I'm gay."
The air was still, and Blaine thought, for a moment, that everything would be okay. Then his father stood and walked towards him. Blaine closed his eyes and braced himself for impact. Instead of the hand Blaine was waiting to feel across his face, he got hot words being breathed against his ear.
"I thought you were my son."
And then his father just walked away, leaving Blaine staring dumbfounded ahead of him, mouth gaping open slightly. Then he looked to his mother, eyes pleading for help. She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Mom?" he tried. She looked away. Then the woman stood and walked right past her son, brushing his shoulder a little. "Mom." She didn't even look back. "Please," he begged, "don't leave me." A sniffle from the woman, but she kept walking. Blaine followed, pleading with her to not be mad.
"What are you doing here?" his father's sharp tone broke into his stream of words. The man's fists were clenched, and this simple action made Blaine's heart beat increase tenfold.
"What do you mean?" Blaine whispered.
"Why are you still in my house?" the father said, voice quaking with anger. Blaine knew it wouldn't take much for the man to start yelling.
"Because I live here." Blaine sniffed. "I'm your son."
"Someone like you could never be my son."
"No. Please don't do this. Please, Dad—"
"I am not your father!" he bellowed. "Get out of my house."
"W-what?"
"Get. Out."
Blaine looked to his mom for help, tears streaming down his face. "Please, mom, don't let him do this."
She looked like she wanted to help. But glancing to Blaine's fuming father, then back to Blaine, she said, "I'm sorry." Her watery, red-rimmed eyes said more than her words ever could.
"A-are you kicking me out?" he asked his father.
"You have ten minutes."
Blaine didn't protest. Instead, he went to his room and started packing. He couldn't, however, find a suitcase, so he ended up stuffing clothes into an old backpack. It was around then when the realization of what happened actually started to kick in. His parents were kicking him out. Where would he go? Cooper was away at college, and, as much as he hated admit it, Blaine didn't really have any friends. Not any good ones, anyway. Not ones that would let him live with them.
Blaine knew his parents were a little homophobic, but he never thought it would be this bad.
All too soon, the ten minutes were up.
"Please don't do this," he begged, hoping to somehow convince his father at the last minute. With his backpack slung over his shoulder and tears welling up in his eyes, Blaine was ready to go.
"I will not have a fag in my house." The father's words stung. Sure, Blaine had been called that before, but never by his parents.
"Don't call me that," Blaine whispered, voice shaking.
"Why shouldn't I call you something that you are?"
Blaine willed his tears not to spill over. He must not give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry. "Because it's mean. And I'm your son. And you shouldn't insult your son." Blaine wasn't entirely sure of what he was doing, but he definitely knew he was getting his father mad.
"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!"
"Oh, disinheriting me now, are you?" His father's lip twitched. "Well, I'm glad. I never liked it much here, anyway."
"YOU BETTER BE GRATEFUL FOR WHAT WE GAVE YOU, BOY!"
"And why should I be grateful for hate and resentment? I know that I was a mistake. I always hear you and mom talk about it." Blaine looked to his mom, flush against the wall, eyes closed, silent tears streaming down her face. "And that sometimes you wonder if I'm even worth it."
"Well right now—"
"I honestly don't see why you hate me so much. Why you've always hated me. Did I ruin your life that much? Or is it because you're scared of me?" Blaine paused, waiting for a reaction, but got nothing. "You always knew, didn't you? Were you afraid of catching 'gay'? Is that why you never touched me? Or maybe it's because you're gay, too."
Suddenly, there was something flying towards him, a crack, a thud, and Blaine found himself on the ground. "Don't talk to your father that way," his father spat.
"You're not my father." Blaine smirked, then he quickly gathered his things and ran. He didn't know where he was running, but he didn't care. Just like he didn't care about the stream of blood gushing from his nose, or the stinging coming from his eye.
This wasn't the first time his dad had hit him, but it had never left a mark before. At least, none that anyone could see, anyway. And there had never been blood. Blaine was scared of this person. He knew he could never face the man again. He could never go back to that house. He wouldn't.
Eventually, the bleeding stopped. And eventually, Blaine stopped running and came to rest on a bench. He had no idea where he was. He didn't know how far he'd run. He didn't even know what town he was in. (Pretty sure it was the same state, though.) So Blaine just sat miserably on the bench, waiting for someone to pass by. Eventually, someone did.
He was tall, or at least taller than Blaine. Well, then again, most people were taller than Blaine. The boy looked to be about fourteen, a year older than him. He had pale skin, chestnut hair, and striking, electric blue eyes. And he seemed to notice Blaine. He looked… concerned? But why would he care?
Cautiously, the boy walked over to Blaine and said, "Are you okay?"
Blaine faltered. Was he okay? Unconsciously, Blaine touched his nose. Ow. He pulled away. Was it… broken? No, he was definitely not okay. "I don't… I don't think so."
"Your eye…" The boy reached out to touch it, but Blaine pulled away. "I'm sorry," the boy said. "I-I shouldn't have done that. It's just… Come inside. My stepmom's a nurse." The boy stood, and Blaine followed his lead. "I'm Kurt, by the way."
"Blaine."
"What happened? If you don't mind my asking. But you don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable," he rushed out.
"It's okay." Blaine took a breath. "I came out to my parents, and they didn't take it so well."
Kurt's eyes widened. "You're gay?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes. Is that bad?" Blaine worried.
"No… it's just… I've never met another gay person before."
Well, they did live in Lima, Ohio. It's not that gay people were rare; it's just that no one knew. So Blaine wasn't really surprised when Kurt said he hadn't met another gay person… Wait. Another gay person? Does that mean… "You're gay?" Blaine asked. A light blush stained the taller boy's cheeks, and he nodded. "Wow… What're the odds, right?"
"Well, here's my house." Kurt gestured to a simple, two floor house with a well-kept garden. Kurt led Blaine inside to the kitchen, where a woman was standing over the sink. "Carole?"
"Yes, dear?" She looked up. "Oh, you brought a friend. Who's this?"
"This is Blaine. Can he… can you fix him up?"
She looked back up to the two boys. This time she really looked at Blaine, instead of just glancing him over. She spotted the quickly darkening circle around his eye, and the slightly unnatural twist of his nose. "Oh dear…" She led Blaine to the living room, where he was sat down on the couch. Kurt followed close behind, nervously wringing his hands. "Kurt, can you get me a towel?" she asked. Kurt nodded and scurried off. "Well, it looks like you're going to have a black eye," Carole said, while turning Blaine's face side to side. "Can you tell me how this happened?" she asked gently.
"My dad," Blaine whispered. Carole's hands stopped short.
"Your father did this?" she asked. Blaine nodded. "We need to call the police," she muttered.
"No! I-I mean, you don't have to. I'm fine."
Carole gave him a long glance. "Where are you staying?" she asked.
"Not home," Blaine mumbled to his folded hands in his lap.
Carole bit her lip, thinking. "Would you like to stay here?" she offered. "I know that we don't know you very well, but you can stay here for however long you want. You know, if you don't have anywhere else to go, that is."
"You'd really let me stay here?"
"Of course, sweetie."
"Thanks."
"Where should I sleep?" Blaine asked as he and Kurt were getting ready for bed. He looked around the small, cream-colored room. There was a bed, a nightstand, a few closets, and an attached bathroom. He figured he could sleep on the floor or the couch…
"You can sleep in my bed, if you don't mind," Kurt answered quietly.
"But where will you sleep?"
"With you." Kurt looked down and shuffled his feet, a scarlet blush creeping up his neck.
"Red looks good on you, you know." Of course, this comment only made the taller boy's blush deeper. "And I wouldn't mind. Sharing your bed. With you." Blaine gave a lopsided grin.
"Get in then." Kurt threw off the covers and hopped in, Blaine following close behind. "Do you think this is weird? I mean, we just met…"
"No. I'm pretty comfortable with it."
There was a long silence before anyone said something. "I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. Blaine kept his eyes and head lowered, but he was still listening. "About your parents. And what they did to you. I mean, black eye, broken nose, that's terrible!" When Blaine still did not look up, Kurt continued. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm never going back there," Blaine said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "And I'm scared." His voice broke, and it didn't take long for the tears to start cascading down his cheeks.
"It's okay," Kurt comforted, rubbing Blaine's arm gently. "Everything's going to be okay."
"How do you know?" Blaine snapped. Almost immediately afterwards, his eyes softened and he apologized.
"It's okay. The truth is, I don't know anything right now. But… we'll make it work. You're safe now, and that's most important. Plus you have me and my whole family looking out for you and making sure everything's going to work out. And I believe everything will be okay."
Blaine shifted closer to Kurt, who gave him a hug. He liked the way Kurt felt against him. He liked that Kurt was so open and caring. He liked Kurt's optimism. And, okay, he liked Kurt. And he believed him. For the first time in a long time, Blaine thought things really could get better.