"W-what?" Burt stammers weakly. "You can't move. You just can't. You're my... I mean... You can't move," he implores. "Please Blaine, tell me it's a joke."
"No joke," Blaine says, shaking his head. "Spencer just told me. They had a family meeting last night, not that I knew about it, or was even asked to attend. My mom said it was because they knew I'd complain. So the decision is made. School gets out in a month, and we leave the next day."
"But..." Burt trails off, swallowing hard. There is so much he wants to say, and so many worries and concerns he has right now, but he can see how close Blaine is to the edge. "Did you tell Kurt?" is all he manages, and Blaine frowns at the mention of his name.
"No. Why would I? I came right over to tell you. Anyway, I've given up trying to contact him since I never get a reply. I'm more concerned about telling Mike and Sam. I don't wanna leave," he says, his voice cracking as he starts to cry. "I mean, living with them is horrible, but despite that I love it here. I have friends, real ones, and I have you, the best friend I've ever known, and I don't wanna go somewhere new, another school where Max will out me and the bullying will begin all over again, only this time there won't be anywhere to run, no garage to hide in, no one to hug me and...I'm scared," he finishes, wiping at his tears. "I'm really scared."
"You and me both," Burt says, pulling Blaine into a hug. "Come on," he says, rubbing his hands over his back. "Don't get upset. You can visit, huh? And y'know, when you're in college, you can just come home to me rather than going to them. One year," he adds, placing a kiss into his hair like he does with Kurt. "That's all, and you'll always be my boy, whatever happens."
"One year," Blaine echoes despairingly. "One year."
"Let's make the most of the time we do have then," Burt says as brightly as he can, clapping Blaine on the shoulder. "You go on out to the garage and get started. I'll catch up to you. Just gotta use the bathroom."
It's not often that Burt cries, but he does the second the door closes, sinking back into his chair and covering his face with his hands. Huge, trembling sobs of despair at the thought of losing Blaine, and the fear he has for his safety. Sitting there, alone at his kitchen table, Burt realizes that a few short months ago he felt as though he had two sons, and now he feels like he's lost everything.
His relationship with Kurt seems to be at an all time low, he only hears from him sporadically via text, and he refuses to answer any of Burt's calls. Now Blaine, the child he had decided in his head was his, was leaving him too.
"I don't wanna lose him," he says to no one, before he cries harder, resting his head on his folded arms.
Behind the garage door Blaine sits on the floor, head bowed onto his knees, silently crying. It's pretty difficult not to hear Burt, and he wishes he could run back inside and comfort him, but he also knows how embarrassed Burt would be, so he sits and waits and tries not to feel like the worst person in the world for moving away and abandoning him.
After possibly the longest bathroom trip ever, Burt comes into the garage, whistling a random tune and giving Blaine a sharp nod. "Right. Let's get this passenger seat fixed. I noticed a tiny tear the other day, but I'll reckon your fingers are nimble enough to hold a needle and thread, what do you say?"
"You can't sew seat leather with regular thread," Blaine says, frowning at the tiny rip Burt is pointing to. "But it can be repaired. You just need something stronger."
"Like rope?"
"Not rope," Blaine laughs. "Jeez, I wonder where Kurt gets his love of sewing from?"
"I'd like to think from me," Burt says smugly.
"Yeah, I'll bet you would," Blaine says, still laughing as he starts to rummage through a box of supplies they keep on the workbench. "Should I tell him?"
"Kurt?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah." Burt sighs heavily, leaning on the bench next to him. "It's one of those things. You probably won't hear from him, but then if you don't tell him, it's the type of thing he'd blow up about."
Blaine bows his head, nodding in agreement. "I thought he was the one," he admits quietly. "The naivety of a sixteen year old, maybe, but I thought that once he'd agreed to give us a chance, that would be it. I didn't even realize until after he'd gone that I was dreaming of marriage and babies already. I'd never even entertained the idea before. Not like...now," he adds with a small laugh. "But I just realized that I could see it; our future together."
"Well, I'd like you to have a future together, even if it's not as a couple," Burt says. "Because I don't want either of you to feel like you don't belong here, or that being around each other is awkward. The chances are, now, that you won't see each other for a long time. Maybe that's for the best." Putting an arm around Blaine's shoulders, he continues in a softer tone. "I'm sorry you dreamed all that buddy, but I coulda told you Kurt would never be the man for that. When you get to Baltimore, don't go hitting up those gay bars, okay? You deserve true love. Reciprocated true love," he adds firmly. "You won't find that in a bar. Take your time, get to know a few people, join a LGBT group maybe. Open yourself up to the idea of finding love with someone other than Kurt. He might be my son, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and was proved horribly wrong. I wouldn't recommend anyone get involved in a relationship with him at all."
"Yeah," Blaine says meekly. "I'll move on. I have moved on," he says, sounding stronger and brighter, even though he knows it's a horrible lie. "I'll meet someone else I'm sure."
"Good for you. In the meantime, let Kurt know that you're moving away. It'll sound better coming from you."
"Would it be really lame of me to do it via text?"
"No, but I think you'd be mad at yourself for not making that call," Burt says, getting back to work. He doesn't turn around, but he hears the house door open and close, and guesses Blaine has gone to make his call.
Blaine isn't surprised to get Kurt's voicemail, but something still flares inside of him at the sound of his voice after so long, and he panics, not knowing what in the world to say after he hears the tone.
"Kurt? Uh...Kurt. Yes. Hi. It's me. Blaine. Blaine. It's Blaine. Yeah. How are you? Oh, right, you won't answer cause this is the message thingy so...yeah. Um... I'm just calling to tell you that I'm um... Moving." He pauses, puffing air out of his cheeks before continuing. "Moving away. To Baltimore to be exact. Spencer got relocated so...so I don't really have a choice. We leave the day after school gets out, so a month, give or take. Anyway, that was it really. Your dad said he wanted me to come here for holidays and stuff so...so we might meet again, but we might not so….so goodbye, Kurt."
He holds the phone in his hand after he hangs up, staring at it for a while, before dialling right back and waiting impatiently for that all important beep.
"Actually, that's not it. Come clean to your dad, Kurt. Tell him the reality of your situation. You're better than a liar. You're above all that, and god knows your dad is the most understanding person I know. He'd help you, I know he would. While you're at it, apply for jobs with other magazines, Kurt. I know you don't like taking chances or stepping into the unknown, but I read your column every week, and it's damn good, seriously. If Vogue doesn't want you then find somewhere that does, because you're worth so much more, and I think you'd find that the leap would pay off.
One other thing. Your dad. You are the luckiest guy in the entire world to have Burt as a father. Love him, cherish him, and look after him for me, cause I won't be here to do it. Often he says he's okay when he's really not, and right now, you're hurting him beyond belief. Please, Kurt, treasure him."
Six hundred miles away, Kurt lets his phone drop onto the floor, as he stares up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. It's for the best, he supposes. Knowing that Blaine was waiting back in Ohio has been driving him crazy for the last three months, making him wake up in the night, desperate to book a last minute flight and pack all his stuff up to return home for good but he's resisted, and now the option won't be there anyway.
He resolves to fly home the weekend after Blaine has moved. He can't bring himself to call or email him, because he knows he will break, but he can at least follow through on Blaine's request to look out for his dad, and he hopes Burt will let that filter through when he talks with Blaine.
So a week passes, and then another, and then suddenly it's only nine days before Blaine has to move. The despair and misery is real, and he's had enough of being told to make the most of his last few days in Ohio. He's supposed to be having dinner with Burt tonight, but he can see that his truck isn't home, so he heads over to his own house to pack up some more of his stuff. Trudging wearily up the stairs, he pulls up short when he comes face to face with Max and Simon leaving his room.
"What are you doing?"
"Dad asked us to pack your stuff," Max lies easily.
"No he didn't. Why would he?"
"He did," Simon insists. "So we helped you out."
"Mom!" Blaine yells loudly. "Mom! I need you!"
"Mom, I need you," Max mimics in a baby voice. "We didn't do anything, Blainey, we just packed your stuff."
"What is it now, Blaine?" His mom asks, as she walks up the stairs. "I swear this house is so peaceful, and then you arrive home and all hell breaks loose."
"They packed my stuff," he says angrily, pointing at the pair. "They've been in my room and through all my things."
"Well it needs to be packed, Blaine. Does it really matter if they've helped you out? I'd be grateful," she adds with a laugh.
"They will have sabotaged it all."
"Blaine? Sweetie? Have you even checked?"
"Yeah, sweetie," Simon says with a smile. "You should check."
"You boys," Angie laughs. "Such jokers."
Blaine pushes past them into his room, where four boxes stand on the floor. His bookshelves are emptied, along with his desk, and the top of his dresser is now cleared. Peering into the boxes, he can see his books neatly stacked, his CD's all in a pile, and his photo frames wrapped carefully. Straightening up, he scuffs the floor with his toe, unable to look anyone in the eye.
"Uh...I guess it is all okay. Um...yeah."
"Say sorry, Blaine," his mom reprimands, as if he were three. "You've upset your brothers and that's not nice."
"Sorry."
"I couldn't hear him," Max whines. "He needs to say it louder."
"I'm sorry," Blaine repeats. "Happy now?"
"Oh, I will be," Max grins, as he backs out of the room, and his mom casts one more disappointed glance his way, before closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Blaine feels oddly deflated and sits on his bedroom floor, wondering what in the world Max and Simon's motives could have been for packing his belongings. He had been hopeful Simon would be moving away for college, but no, he was staying at home and finding a job until he decided what he wanted to do, apparently, which to Blaine said that he was just going to torture him for as long as possible, so he had another year with all three of them to contend with, and he really didn't think he could manage it. Sighing, he reaches into one of the boxes for a photo frame, the one which contains a picture of him and his dad when Blaine was four. He loves that one, because he can still feel his dad holding him tightly, the way he was in the photo, as if it were yesterday.
The frame falls into his lap face first, so he picks it up and turns it over, then stops dead. His dad's face has been very deliberately cut from the photo, before it was put neatly back in its frame. His blood running cold, Blaine quickly unwraps all his other frames, but they're all the same, his dad missing from every one.
Downstairs, Angie sits up sharply at the roar of anger coming from Blaine, as he tears down the stairs and out into the yard. She arrives outside just in time to see her quiet, meek and mild son landing the most almighty punch to Max's jaw, followed by a swift kick to Simon's stomach as he tries to intervene.
"Blaine!" she screams loudly, not knowing what to do. "Blaine stop it, you'll kill them!"
"Good!" Blaine yells, continuing to land blows to Max anywhere he can reach, while the boy cowers on the lawn. "I want them to fucking die!"
Angie runs around to the front of the house, just in time to spot Burt Hummel pulling into his driveway. "Mr. Hummel!" she cries desperately. "Blaine's punching the life out of the boys! Please help!"
Burt charges across the road and into the yard, grabbing Blaine easily around the waist, and lifting him clean of the ground. "Easy there, buddy. Easy, easy. Come on. I'm here, I'm here."
Angie is shocked at the sudden turn around, as Blaine stops and seems to clear his head, letting Burt hold him and soothe him, while he gets his breath back. "It's okay, it's okay," Burt is whispering, while Max sits up with Simon's assistance, swiping at his bloody nose and spitting blood into the grass.
"You're a fucking psycho, man, I swear," he snarls, and Blaine whirls around to confront him.
"You cut my dad from all my pictures! What did you expect? That I'd sit there and calmly take it? All the memories I have, you've destroyed them all."
"What? Blaine, what are you talking about?" Angie asks, and pulling away from Burt, he charges inside and returns moments later, shoving several photo frames in her hands.
"All of them," he says, as she looks through the photos. "Every single one."
His voice trembles, but he doesn't cry, determined not to let them see his pain and give them another excuse to taunt him.
"Boys, this is not okay," Angie says softly, shaking her head. "I know you're practical jokers, and you like to have fun, but this is just cruel."
"Sick, is what it is," Burt grumbles, but he doesn't intervene further, just keeps his arm protectively around Blaine's shoulders.
"I'm really disappointed in you," she sighs. "Blaine, honey, I have other photos you can have. I even have a copy of this one," she says, holding his favorite picture. "I'll get them for you later. Right now, I suggest we all take a bit of time out. Blaine, you're going with Mr. Hummel anyway, I assume?"
"That's it?" Blaine cries.
"What do you want me to do?"
"At least make them apologize!" Blaine cries, "Like I had to with them!"
"Blaine, you've just assaulted them, I think that's punishment enough. They know they've upset you, and I'm sure they're sorry, aren't you boys?"
"Yeah yeah," a still winded Simon mutters, as he and Max head inside.
"There you go."
"I just...you..." Blaine trails off, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Come on kid," Burt says quietly. "Let's go."
Dinner is a quiet and altogether miserable affair, and Blaine acts like the surly teenager Burt never thought he'd see, giving short one word answers to everything and refusing to make any eye contact.
He wanders off to the living room as soon as he's finished eating, and while Burt likes that he now treats the place like his own home, he doesn't like the way Blaine refuses to speak, so he follows after, shutting the TV off and sitting down on the couch next to him.
"Come on. Talk."
"I just," Blaine pauses, rubbing a hand over his face. "I try to look at the positives, you know? Like, however much they get to me, I try really hard to rise above it. The trouble is, when I look at how it all is right now, I realize nothing has changed. A year ago I was sitting in my room in Cleveland, dreading moving here to live with those guys, but for a while I really dared to hope things had improved. I made friends, found you...Kurt...if I think back to how I felt at New Years, like anything at all was possible….now I just feel like...like it's all gone away, and I'm back to square one, sitting here feeling fearful about moving somewhere new and spending another year in that family. I hate that I feel that way too, like I'm just moping around, wallowing in self pity."
"Hmm well, I think it's okay to wallow sometimes," Burt tells him, ruffling his hair. "It's okay to admit you feel upset, and that things are crappy. It's not all rainbows and glitter, but it's what you choose to do now that counts. Let's look at the positives here. You have really good friends, Blaine. Mike, Sam, Tina, they're not going to stop being your friends just because you're moving away. We met," he says, with a friendly nudge. "You found a new hobby, and you've decided on your career path. Hell, you even got to experience your first love. It might have also brought your first heartbreak with it, but you know a lot more than you did a year ago, when you thought driving to gay bars to look for guys was a good idea."
"Kurt didn't break my heart," Blaine answers. "He bashed it up a little, but I kinda knew it was coming. I don't regret the short lived affair...but I do regret that it was short lived," he adds, with a soft smile.
"Well...you're better off out of it," Burt says stiffly. "Anyway. Going forward, you have a lot of good things to hold onto, huh?"
"I guess," Blaine nods. "I just... I don't want to leave you," he admits, without looking up. "Out of everything; school, science club, glee, my friends, Bessie...even Kurt, not seeing you every day makes me sadder than anything."
"Oh buddy," Burt sighs, pulling him into a hug. "Me too."
Burt watches from his living room window as Blaine leaves for school, his car making a few unhealthy sounding bangs as he takes off down the street, followed ten minutes later by the three Lane boys, and then he runs across the street and knocks on the door.
"Oh, hello Mrs. Lane," he says politely, when she answers the door. "Can I come in?"
"I guess," she says, warily opening the door wider for him to step inside. "What did Blaine do now?"
"Nothing," he reassures, wondering why she always assumes the worst when it comes to her own son. "Is Mr. Lane home? I want to discuss something with you both, if possible."
"Sure," she nods, then leaves him in the living room while she hurries upstairs. She's back in a few moments, with a very unimpressed Spencer.
"I was in bed."
"Sorry," Burt says politely. "It's just, I need to talk with both of you about this."
"Shoot then," Spencer says impatiently. "I ain't got all day. What's Blaine done? Tried to hit on your son again?"
"Uh...no," Burt says tightly. "Kurt and Blaine are finished with all that."
"Can't say I blame your son. Blaine's too needy."
"Oh, they're still on good terms," Burt lies. "Just one of those young love things, y'know. Anyway."
"Get on with it."
"Sure. Well, put simply, I would like Blaine to come and live with me, instead of moving to Baltimore."
"What?" Angie says quickly. "You can't just..."
"Hear him out," Spencer says, holding up his hand to silence her, and Burt leans forward slightly in his chair.
"Okay, well, Blaine has enjoyed his time here. He's doing exceptionally well in school, he has great friends, and is involved in two clubs that make him really happy. He's also working on the car with me, which should be completed by the end of the year. I just think it would make more sense for him to finish out his senior year here, where he's happy and comfortable plus….it might make things easier on your sons," he tries, hating the way he's making Blaine out to be an aggressor, but he knows it's necessary. "Less conflict for them to deal with and all that."
"That's true," Spencer says, and Angie inclines her head, giving a small nod. "I don't get why you'd help us out like that though," he continues. "What do you get out of it? You expect me to pay if Blaine lives with you? Cause that ain't gonna happen."
"No sir," Burt says quickly. "I figure Blaine could work at the garage with me, like he does now, but in exchange for food and board, instead of money," he lies, knowing full well he'll still pay Blaine his wage. "I like Blaine, he's a good kid. You've raised him well, Mrs. Lane," he lies again. "He fits in well with our family and he's no bother. Plus I know he wants to study mechanical engineering in college, and I figure it'd look good on his application to say he's been working in a garage, and has rebuilt a Buick from scratch."
"He wants to study mechanical engineering?" Angie asks in surprise. "I thought he liked science."
"Oh, you need science," Burt chuckles. "Mechanical engineering is exactly what it sounds like, studying the mechanics of engines. You need a solid and sound understanding of physics and..."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Spencer says with an eye roll. "His old man left enough to see him through college. If you wanna take him on, far be it from me to stop you, though I have to say it seems weird that an old guy would want a young boy living with him."
"What does Blaine think of all this?" Angie asks. "I have to tell you, Mr. Hummel, that I'm really sad about how my relationship with Blaine has deteriorated since I married Spencer."
Surprised, Burt nods, listening intently. He had no idea she could feel any remorse and suddenly, him asking for Blaine to live with him seems rather callous.
"I mean," Angie carries on, "All he ever used to ask for was a brother or sister. I give him three of them, and he's never been more ungrateful for anything. This being gay thing must surely be a phase, along with the reluctance to join in with the other boys. He can see how it hurts me, and yet he continues to rebel, wetting the bed, screaming and shouting whenever one of the others plays a prank on him...and the way he speaks to Spencer...but then I guess he's decided you're his dad instead."
"Not at all," Burt says through gritted teeth, and suddenly his request doesn't seem callous anymore. "Blaine often talks about Carl, and while I'm sure I would have liked him, we sound incredibly different to one another. Same moral stance, maybe, and the same attitude toward a lot of stuff, but different all the same. Blaine isn't asking me to be his dad, and I'm not looking for another son. We just click, and he likes being at my house, because he feels safe. I'm sorry, Mrs. Lane, but those incidents that you deem to be pranks, are in fact cruel jabs at Blaine which leave him emotionally scarred."
"He needs to man up then," Spencer declares.
"He is a man," Burt snarls. He can feel his temper wearing thin, and takes off his cap to run a hand over his head. "And being gay is not just a phase. Anyway. His sexuality is irrelevant. I just want to know if I can invite him to move in with me."
"It's up to you, Angie," Spencer shrugs. "I mean, I know I'd be happier if Blaine lived somewhere else, and the boys certainly would, so..."
"Yeah, ask him," Angie agrees with a nod, and it's all Burt can do not to punch the air with joy. "But I'm telling you, if I decide I want him to visit, I won't expect any issues."
"Of course not," Burt says with a hurried nod. "He can visit you whenever you want him to."
"Maybe for Christmas," she muses. "But not before. We need time to settle in."
"It's May."
"Precisely."
Burt takes a deep breath, chanting a silent mantra of 'let it slide, let it slide' over and over. "Okay," he says brightly, getting to his feet. "I'll um...I'll ask Blaine when he gets home from school, and let you know the outcome."
"He'd better say yes," Spencer mutters, as he shows Burt to the door. "Cause I've never been freakin happier to say goodbye to anyone before."
"Thanks for your time," Burt says politely, and rather than the punch he'd like to give, he settles for shaking his hand instead, then running excitedly across the road where he is frantically busy for the entire day.
He feels like a small boy as he waits on the porch for Blaine's car to round the corner, and when it does he knows he lets out a squeak, but he is really past caring, launching himself into the road to flag him down.
"Yeah?"
"Park the car," he calls to Blaine. "Come inside."
Such is his trust in Burt that Blaine does as he's told immediately and Burt pulls his door open, tugging him from the car and into the house. "Okay. Uh..."
"Burt? Are you okay?" Blaine asks with a laugh. "You're kind of all bouncy. And why aren't you at work, anyway?"
"I didn't go today. I had other stuff to do. I have something to show you. I went to Crate and Barrel today."
"Oh," Blaine says, trying to feign interest.
"Yeah. Got some stuff to renovate the basement. Turn it into a proper bedroom, y'know?"
"Sounds great," Blaine says, feeling sad. It might have only been a pull out couch, but he'd always thought of that room as his.
"Yeah. Come see."
Burt leads Blaine down the stairs, biting his lip to keep the grin from his face. The massive room is partially transformed, with a large bed, a couch, desk, closet, and dresser all in pale blue. "Gonna paint the walls white," Burt says, as Blaine admires the room. "And build a partition here, so the laundry area is separate. Make it more like a proper room, y'know? I have more furniture too. Night stands, and another smaller dresser."
"Nice," Blaine says with a nod. "Funny, if I could choose my decor, it'd be pale blue. And white for the walls is a good idea down here, it'll make the room so much lighter. I'd offset it with some darker accents, though. Maybe darker furnishings and covers for the bed."
"You mean that? About the decor?" Burt asks excitedly. "You'd honestly choose pale blue?"
"Yeah. It looks good, don't you think?"
"I like it, yeah," Burt agrees, then turns to Blaine. "Would you like it to be your room?"
"Yeah, I'd...hold up. Did you do this for Kurt? Is this to entice him into visiting?"
"I did it for you."
"To entice me into visiting?" Blaine laughs. "You don't need to convince me."
"No," Burt says slowly. "I was wondering if you'd like to move in here, instead of moving to Baltimore."
The double take from Blaine is hilarious, and he clutches Burt's arm hard. "What? You serious?"
"Yeah. I've cleared it with your mom and the moron, so if you want to, you can live here. You don't have to move."
"I don't...really?"
"Yeah, really," Burt chuckles. "Now just gimme an answer, I'm dying here!"
"You bought all this stuff for me?"
"Well, I figured you'd like your own space, y'know. It's not that I'd want you out the way or anything."
"This room would be all mine? All of it?"
"Yeah."
"You really did all this just for me?"
"Answer me, Blaine! You're killing me here!"
"YES!" Blaine cries loudly, and throws himself into Burt's arms. "Yes! Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much! I can't...ugh! Just thank you!"
Burt just hugs him harder, not even caring that he's crying with happiness, because he knows without looking that Blaine is too.
"Can I move in, now? Right now?"
"The weekend they move," Burt laughs. "I need to finalise some stuff with your mom, plus I need to make sure I get all the stuff I'll need, insurance details, birth certificate and so on."
"Was she okay? My mom?"
"She was hesitant, more so than Spencer, anyway, but she agrees it will be best for you. It will be, won't it?"
"It absolutely will be," Blaine grins, relief flooding through him. "I promise you, I'm gonna make you so proud."
"You already do, kid," Burt smiles, ruffling his hair. "You already do."