Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all of your reviews! It means so much...:D I love you all! I would give every one of you a big hug if I could! Hope you're all well and happy, and thank you so much for reading!
SPOILER: Fluff...to follow this chapter
Please keep reading and reviewing! Thank you! xxx
"Hey!" a huge, angry, threatening voice boomed. "Hey, fag!"
Every cell of Kurt's being tensed-but before fear could consume him-
"Hey! Hey, bastards!"
Kurt spun around-but before he could look at his would-be attackers-all he could see was a curtain of check-shirt material. Finn had stepped protectively in front of him, while Puck went to confront the bullies. Kurt breathed a silent sigh of relief. He never had words to thank his brother and friend enough for what they were doing for him. Seriously-they should both consider a career in being body guards. He knew that no bully in the school stood a chance against Noah Puckerman-and Finn Hudson was pretty respected too, with his impressive height and build. And with at least one of them walking to and from every class with him-he knew he was as safe as he could be. Luckily, the day something actually happened, they were both here.
However…something strange was going on today.
Where was Blaine?
Even though Kurt's boyfriend knew he could probably do little against a huge, gigantic jock with muscles like cannon balls towering over him-he still devotedly escorted him to and from every single class, making sure he got there safely and without upset. It was adorable.
But today…Blaine had been absent in English class, one of the few they had together…
Even weirder-Kurt had had no text from him, no explanation why, no call…nothing.
Well. He was probably sick or something. God knows, that guy was due some rest, after all he did…Kurt would call him after school, make sure he was okay. He really him, though…
"You're blocking the hallway," Puck's voice broke into Kurt's thoughts as he addressed the bullies. His tone was icily polite-but threatening. "Care to move, so that my friends and I can pass?"
"I'm sorry-why the fuck are you protecting the homo, Puckerman? I'm confused. You used to bin him with us, bro?"
Kurt shivered slightly as he recognised Scarface's voice. But Finn stood firmly in front of him, like a brick wall, arms folded.
"Yes. And then I grew up," he heard Puck snarl. "And no way in hell am I your bro," he spat.
"Ooooh, are you two, like, an item then?" came another voice, high-pitched and mocking. Blonde-hair.
Puck did not flinch as Kurt heard the jocks squaring up to him. Puck was a few inches shorter than them, his muscles not so grotesquely massive-but even they knew that it was not worth trying to fight him. He was a shark. "Now, we can do this two ways. You can go back to your play-pen, or your cadges, or whatever, and we can have no trouble,"
"Or?" Scarface's voice prompted cockily.
"Well, I think you can muster just enough brain-power to work that one out for yourself," Puck said, sickly sweet-but dangerous. "Now-run along,"
"Jog on, bastards," Finn growled, cracking his large knuckles.
Eventually, with much muttered swearing and mumbled threats-the jocks finally ambled off. Finn stepped aside, and Kurt looked gratefully at Puck, who was still staring furiously at the spot the jocks had been, as if he could disinfect it with his gaze. He snorted, like a bull, his expression disgusted.
"Thank you," Kurt said, not thinking those two words were anywhere near enough.
"Hmph," he answered, not taking his eyes off of the floor, as if expecting it to burst into flames.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you two are doing for me," Kurt continued, his heart beat slowing to normal.
"Yes," Puck hissed. "The point is…we shouldn't have to,"
Kurt bit his lip, clutching the strap of his bag tightly, waiting.
Frustrated, Puck kicked the nearest locker as hard as he could with a fiery, wordless shout. "You know, I don't think I took all your anti-violence stuff seriously enough. There are some sick bastards in this school!" Looking back at Kurt, Puck shook his head- even looking genuinely sad for him. Like he really cared. "It's not right," he panted, his voice quiet, deadly. "It's not fucking right,"
Without another word, he stormed away.
Kurt shivered, even though it was quite warm. The leather strap dug into his palms as he watched Puck bulldoze his way through the crowd of students, ploughing through a terrified group of freshmen. He stared after him…
"Come on," Finn put a hand on his shoulder, his voice comforting. "Let's get to class,"
Still a little shell-shocked at the encounter and Puck's reaction-with the back of his mind still wondering where Blaine was…Kurt followed his brother down the hall.
The previous night:
Blaine finished off his History essay, finally straightening up from the bent-over-desk position he had been in for the last hour. Honestly, he swore he would break his neck one day…but no matter. It was done now-and he could relax. Leaning back on his chair, he stretched out, and groaned. Right. What to do with the rest of the evening…He could go and see Kurt-oh no wait, Kurt was with Mercedes…The Warbler guys were having a late rehearsal…Forever alone, Blaine grinned to himself.
Oh no-the faint, violent sounds of Call of Duty were coming from the living room-Cooper was home. Hooray, he thought, half sarcastic, half grateful. Getting up and shutting his textbooks, Blaine made his way out of his room, through the hall and downstairs to say hello.
"Alright, shortie?" Cooper didn't look away from the screen; just nodded slightly as his character on the screen army-crawled around a torn-up war zone, gun in hands. Blaine raised an eyebrow-this was the usual treatment whilst Cooper was gaming. Oh well-each to their own. He sat down heavily on the couch to watch as Cooper shot enemy soldiers in a haze of blood and madness, laughing every time Cooper himself was killed-which wound him up no end.
"Where's Mom?" he asked eventually.
"Where do you think?" Cooper let off a hand grenade. "In the kitchen with her old friend Rioja,"
Blaine frowned…then understood. "Ah,"
Cooper shook his head, looking a little sad. "She's got even worse recently, with the drinking…"
"Since I came out…" Blaine muttered, hoping his brother wouldn't hear. But of course, with his bat-like ears-Cooper picked up.
"No. Don't ever think that, Blaine," he said, his voice suddenly serious and forceful-but he sighed. Blaine bit his lip, a pang in his gut-which he tried to ignore.
"Anyway-how's everything with Kurtsie?"
"Great," Blaine adjusted the belt on his jeans-was it him, or did they feel looser?
"And…everything okay with the-you know,"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Blaine touched the pocket, in which the sonogram photo was still with him.
Suddenly-Cooper gave a strangled yelp of surprise.
"What?"
"You're wearing a hoodie?" Cooper gasped, having caught his brother's reflection in the TV screen. "Blaine Dapper Anderson is wearing a hoodie?"
Blaine swallowed awkwardly, tugging at the strings of his old blue hooded jumper. He hadn't worn it for literally years…but tonight, he felt like a bit of comfort. "Yeah?"
"Sorry…you never wear anything casual. You always look like you've just stepped offstage-"
"Thanks," Blaine smiled.
"-of a freak show," Cooper snickered-and Blaine promptly hit him hard with a cushion.
"Hey!"
"Oooh, someone's violent tonight!" Cooper put on a stupid, high-pitched voice. The two of them continued to wrestle, Cooper just having time to hit the pause button on his game before fully engaging in the rough play-fight. They'd been doing this ever since Blaine could remember-although Cooper never let him win any more. It was still actually a pretty good de-stresser, as they laughed, winding up sprawled on the floor and weakly poking each other in the ribs, giggling.
"What's going on?"
Instantly, at the sound of the monotone, low-pitched voice in the doorway-Blaine and Cooper shot up to a sitting position, backs poker straight.
In that moment-the entire atmosphere of the room changed…
"H-hey, Dad," Cooper greeted his father, looking round.
"Hey…" Blaine repeated awkwardly, as the much older, greyer version of himself walked dignifiedly into the room. He still wore his severe black business suit, with the severe black tie and shiny shoes-not to mention the extremely severe look in his cold, grey eyes…
Mr Anderson grunted in response to their greetings, looking as awkward as Blaine. He was not used to interacting. As usual, even though they all shared similar DNA-it felt to Blaine as if his father was a near stranger, like the distant cousins you sometimes met at family parties. Having lived under the same roof for seventeen years made no difference.
This was exactly the relationship Blaine had sworn he and his baby would never have, the father he'd sworn never to be. His baby would never feel like this about the person it should feel closest to of all. Never.
Absent-mindedly-Blaine's fists clenched.
Mr Anderson-amazingly, as they usually avoided eye-contact-was staring straight at him.
"Y-your mother…was upset with you last night,"
Blaine frowned, confused. "Why?"
Mr Anderson grimaced-but kept the stare up. Gradually…it was becoming more and more intimidating. But Blaine did not blink. He looked right back.
"She tells me…you overstepped,"
"Overstepped…?" Blaine tried to remember what had happened the previous day…Kurt was four months gone…and-
"What?" Blaine exclaimed, anger starting to build up inside him. "Because I mentioned my b-"
"Repeating that word is not necessary," Mr Anderson's tone was forceful, forbidding-as if referring to a disgusting swear-word.
A disgusting swear-word.
Kurt was a disgusting swear-word in this house. Gay was a disgusting swear-word in this house.
This was it.
In his parent's minds…his whole life was horrific. Shameful. Unacceptable. Disgusting.
The face of his father said it all…
That was it.
After years of this…that was it.
Blaine looked up at his father.
Slowly, he got to his feet…but something had clicked. Something had finally snapped inside him-something that had been lying dormant for a long time…had finally broken. Something-something, hot, fiery, thick-was cascading through his veins, like lava from a volcano.
A head shorter than his father-Blaine stood firm as they stood, face to face.
"Blaine…what are you doing?" came Cooper's voice, sounding distant, far away…All of Blaine's energy was concentrated on this man in front of him.
All of a sudden-Blaine realised…he hated this man.
He had hated him for a long, long time…but had denied it. He'd convinced himself he loved his father, of course he did…but now…things had changed inside him. He'd shifted. Finally, his mind had snapped into place, and he'd opened his eyes to see…
He hated his father. And his feelings towards the woman in the kitchen drinking herself stupid were much the same. Everything, everything over the years, everything they'd done, they'd said, they'd forced him to pretend he was something he was not…the shouting, the screaming, the hurt, the tears…He hated them. Every cell of his body loathed them, as much at it were possible to.
He looked into Mr Anderson's eyes…and saw black holes. Nothing. He knew, if he was not their son, if his eight pints of blood were different…they would loath him in kind. For being who he was. For being the opposite to their conception of a perfect son. For not being afraid to speak out. For loving another boy.
No more.
No more.
"You listen," he snarled, looking up at Mr Anderson, all the loathing he now felt awash in his eyes, spilling out of his mouth.
"Blaine…" Cooper said warningly, starting to sound scared.
"Shut up," Blaine snapped at his brother, turning back to the man before him-who looked no different. "You listen. I don't care what you think any more. I don't care about you, or your wife's shallow, stupid view of the world. I don't give a damn-"
"Who do you think you are talking to-" Mr Anderson began, his voice raising.
"I don't know! I don't know-but you are definitely not my father! Yes, biologically-but you are not my father! You never were! You never cared a damn about me! You never cared a damn!
"I don't know what you think-but I know that being a father is much more than a teaspoon of chemicals, or DNA, or whatever else the hell the science is! So much more!"
Blaine breathed heavily. Mr Anderson looked back at him, a little bemused-but slowly-paler and paler as, for the first time in his life-Blaine stood up to him. Cooper looked on-his face suddenly scared.
"Blaine-" he said, warningly again.
"Shut up, Cooper," He turned back to Mr Anderson, fire in his eyes. "I have always desperately tried to please you-even though you didn't give a shit. You made me think that I wasn't good enough-right from when I can remember! That's why I could never stand up to the bullies at my old school! I believed I deserved it! You made me believe that I was worthless, that I was a freak! You never said it-but I know. I see the way you look at me, the look in your eyes-and Mom's! Allegedly-your own son! For all that's worth!
"Well, let me tell you this now. There is one person in my life who told me otherwise. One person who lead me out of the dark. One person who made me feel human again. One person who loves me for exactly what I am. One person who stopped me going right over the edge! Yes, Father!" He paused-beginning to choke up with tears as he remembered. "I-I probably would have killed myself-for all that you care! You made me so low, so down, so hopeless…But then this person came-and he showed me that I was so much more than what you made me believe. You cut me down-but he built me back up. He is the reason I am still standing here today.
"But to you-I might as well be dead, mightn't' I? You'd probably prefer a dead son to a gay one!"
"Blaine, please-" Cooper tried again, sounding panicky. But Blaine ignored him.
"That's right, Father! That one person was and is Kurt! My boyfriend Kurt! He saved my life. He saved my life-but that's just a fucking shame to you! You'd rather I was dead!-"
But-suddenly-
A bang.
A crash.
Someone yelled.
Falling...
Cooper was shouting…
Falling…
onto something...something solid...his head...
A searing pain…but it went numb...
Someone was screaming...Cooper?...He didn't know...He couldn't...he couldn't...
Then…nothing.