Hello everyone! Sorry for the whole long time, no update thing. I was on vacation with no internet-I almost died! I'll be trying to update more regularly now. Again, you guys rule, I love when I get alerts, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! I would appreciate some more reviews, but honestly, I love just knowing that people actually read this.

Just in case you want to drop me a line or something, my tumblr is goodgollyimmolly(.)tumblr(.)com!

And again, you're all amazing.

Blaine was in the bathroom looking in the mirror, inspecting the day's damage. He had been shoved face-first into a locker, and suspected that his nose was probably broken. He had run up the stairs right when he got home so his parents couldn't see what had happened. The last few weeks had been awful. The bullying at school had gotten worse, to the point where he was caught trying to duck out of class early to avoid passing periods. He had been locker-checked more times than he had cared to this week, but the worst attack had left him with a brace on his wrist. Some stupid jock had shoved him down, and Blaine had fallen awkwardly on his wrist, spraining it. Nobody saw it though. Not even when they spit on him in the hallway. His dad had told him to "man-up". It was his fault for being such a fairy, after all.

"BLAINE ANDERSON, YOU GET DOWN HERE NOW!" His dad was in a mood again, what a wonderful way to cap off the week.

Blaine trudged from the bathroom, proceeding slowly down the stairs, like a man walking to the gallows. He knew he was going to get screamed at for something again. This morning it had been singing in the shower. He wondered what it would be this time.

"That bitch of an orchestra teacher called me," Brian Anderson spat out, "apparently you were the concertmaster and now she's having problems finding someone to replace you. How did she get our number?"

"Dad, it's in the school directory, plus she was my favorit-"

"Blaine, just shut up," his dad replied, rubbing his temples, "she pointed out that apparently you have 'potential' or some shit like that. I tried to tell her that I didn't want you playing some faggy instrument-"

"It is not a 'faggy instrument'! Just because you can't play-"

"Blaine Anderson, you will not talk to me that way," his dad shouted, grabbing the front of Blaine's shirt and shoving him against the wall, "I was going to say that she told me about quite a few great violinists, and I was considering letting you rejoin orchestra, but now I'm not so sure. Your little outburst didn't convince me that you deserve that privilege."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine choked out, still terrified that his dad hadn't let go of his shirt, "I'm so sorry sir. I want to play again; I want to be in orchestra. I love it-please."

He was trying not to cry, he knew it would make his dad even angrier. He really did miss playing the violin.

"Do you really think you deserve it Blaine," his dad said in a dangerous tone, an ugly smile spreading across his face, "after all you've done to us? Playing violin is a privilege. I'm not sure if you would really appreciate it."

"I would," Blaine squeaked out, "I would, sir. I miss it a lot. It was my favorite class, besides choir. I just miss music."

"Well, I guess you should have thought about that before you decided to give in to your moral weaknesses," his dad said smoothly, "but I guess I could let you be in orchestra again. It would only take one phone call. But Blaine, remember, I can always take this privilege away-and we wouldn't want that to happen."

With that, he shoved Blaine into the wall once more, and stormed out of the living room. Blaine slid down the wall, finally being able to take real breaths after walking on eggshells with his dad. His dad had never been violent before Blaine came out, and while he didn't hit Blaine, he had gotten a lot more physical. He thought he had been too gentle with him growing up and was trying to make up for it. Blaine's mom walked into the room, glancing at her son, followed by the inevitable double-take after she saw his nose.

"Blaine! What happened to your nose?"

"I fell face first into a locker mom," he sighed, "it'll be fine, honestly it looks worse than it feels."

Blaine was used to lying to his mother. She was the typical society wife who hated anything that infringed upon her "perfect" family. Blaine knew that she would buy the lie to continue life in her little fantasy world.

"Oh, okay! By the way, we're having spaghetti for dinner. Also, Mrs. Keller called, she said Libby doesn't have a date to the Youth for Christ dance, so I thought-"

"Libby and I aren't talking, mom," Blaine said evenly, "we're not friends anymore because of my 'problem'."

"Oh Blaine, I'm sure she'll be over it soon-"

"She told me I was going to get AIDS and go to hell, of course it's her who has to get over it-"

"Now Blaine, we're all concerned about this little phase you're going through, your father and I are hoping that you get over it soon, but maybe you should apologize to her?"

His mother was smiling sweetly at him. She really didn't get it. She thought that being gay was something that he could change as easily as his hair color. Him being gay wasn't part of her "perfect family" ideal.

"Mom, I'm not apologizing to her. I didn't do anything wrong," Blaine took a deep breath, "and it's not a phase. I've known I was gay since I was ten or so, okay? It's not something that I can turn on and off, I've tried to like girls, it just doesn't work-alright?"

"How dare you!" Blaine saw the anger behind her hazel eyes, "How can you just sit there and expect me to support your unnatural urges? You aren't even trying to make this work!"

"Mom-I would like girls if I could, honestly. Because…" he had started to sob again, "I don't know if you've noticed, but my life hasn't exactly been a fucking picnic lately! I sprained my wrist this week because someone threw me to the ground! And my nose is probably broken-do you even care? It's crooked because someone shoved me into my locker FACE-first this morning-I didn't fall! Nobody even stopped to see if I was okay. Nobody talks to me at school anymore, and the teachers barely pay attention. Sure, they'll stop the verbal stuff in class, but they don't see how bad they're hurting me! Then I come home and have you guys refuse to acknowledge that I'm gay, or get in my face about what a pervert I am! I'm gay mom, and there's nothing that's going to change that. Maybe someday you'll be able to understand that!"

Blaine was panting heavily after his speech, and hadn't noticed his dad walk in. He was livid. His eyes were fiery, and his hands were in tight fists. Blaine's mouth went dry, and he started to shake. He just wanted to be loved-he was the same boy that he was 3 weeks ago, when his parents still actually cared. He wasn't any different, but it had all changed so quickly.

"You will not talk to your mother that way," his dad said, icily calm, "and I will be calling the school to see about the physical violence, and see if it's really as bad as you say, or if you are making this all up to justify your lifestyle choices. I'm still very disappointed in you Blaine."

They thought he was lying. How could they? Why would he sprain his own wrist? Or break his own nose?

"Fine then, whatever." Blaine wouldn't meet their eyes.

"Dinner's ready." his mom said quietly.

"Good," his dad said, eyes like darts against Blaine still, "we'll continue this later, Blaine. You need to learn to respect your elders. I can see we'll need to have a chat."

"Great, can't wait."

With that, his parents left the room, leaving Blaine to wonder exactly what that "talk" would entail.