Dear readers,
Here it is, as promised, chapter 28, and the first of two dealing with Blaine's father because the way I think I'm going to be structuring Blaine's side of the story, up until Valentine's day, is by having small story arcs spread across approximately two chapters.
Enjoy!
Sopphires.
"I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom." ― Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum
Blaine ran the little car along his desk with the palm of his hand, staring at the picture that he'd propped up against his desk lamp. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand what his dad had meant by leaving the car and photo on his desk. He understood that his dad had left the photo and the car there to remind him of the time when his dad had said he loved him, probably the last time which was a depressing thought because he had to be around seven in the picture.
He remembered the situation too, now: Cooper blowing up at their parents because he wanted to be an actor, but they didn't think it was a good idea, and Cooper shouting about oppressive they were, and Blaine crying in his room because it was too loud and Cooper was being a big meanie and he was really scared because he'd heard things shatter, and his dad coming upstairs whilst his mum tried appealing to Cooper, and Blaine wanting to get out of the house, and his dad picking him up and carrying him down the stairs and putting him in the front seat of the car, which Blaine had loved, and driving them around until they came across the car museum, and Blaine running from exhibit to exhibit, his dad chasing him, and his dad lifting him up so that he could see properly, and being absolutely captivated by the Chevy and wanting to be able to drive it so badly, and his dad buying him the toy car, and Blaine falling asleep on the way back home with the car clutched in his chubby fist. He remembered it all, and he thought he knew how he'd lost it, too, because when his father had rejected him, Blaine had stormed up to his bedroom, crying and fuming, and piled whatever he could grab that reminded him of his dad into a box and had thrown it into the hallway before blocking himself in his room. The next day, the box had been in the bin in front of the house, and Blaine had had no doubts that his dad had put it there – he must have taken the car out and kept it. And that led him to thing he didn't understand.
He didn't understand why. He could understand why his dad had kept it, a little, because obviously it was connected to the love – or the lack of it – between them, but why had he kept it after he had told Blaine that he wasn't his son anymore? Blaine didn't understand why his dad would remind him of that. What did his dad gain from that? It didn't seem to be a victory for his dad, or at least not one that Blaine could see, so what was the point? What did it mean? Was Blaine meant to go and approach him? Was this saying that there was still something left, or was it telling him that his dad could only love him when he was an innocent child?
Blaine groaned and slammed his head into his forehead, feeling his eyes sting and his eyelids droop. He had barely slept when he got back to Dalton, choosing instead to drive the car around on his bedcovers, and he didn't understand how Thad could put up with Sebastian on his own because he was so annoying! Blaine got that he was restless and bored out of his mind – and missing Thad, no doubt, because their levels of co-dependency were insanely high, though Blaine wasn't stupid enough to say that to his face – but did he have to constantly switch between trying to wind Blaine up and complaining about every other human being on the entire planet?!
"Blainey!" Blaine looked up, groaning once more, and found a small smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of David. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to his roommate, who was dropping his bags, and threw his arms around him. David hugged him back tightly, and it felt good to be held by someone who simply loved him. David patted him on the back, clearly sensing that he was upset, and Blaine clung on as tightly as he could before he decided it was only decent to let go. He stood back, sheepish smile on his face.
"Hey David," he greeted, stepping backwards. David narrowed his eyes, frowning, and Blaine shot him a fake smile, looking over his shoulder and spotting Thad hugging Sebastian. David followed his gaze and snorted.
"I think Sebastian's going to break Thad's ribs if he's not careful," he commented, and Blaine snorted, louder than David had, and this drew the attention of the hugging boys, who broke contact; Sebastian scowling and Thad mildly pink in the face but bounding over to embrace Blaine. Blaine let out a small as Thad hugged him enthusiastically, glad that he was seemingly really happy and excited about the new term.
"Hey Blaine!" he exclaimed, stepping back with a huge grin on his face that made Blaine laugh a little bit.
"Hi, you seem a lot better." Thad nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets and looking around. Blaine shuffled back into his room, dropping down into his chair. Thad and Sebastian sat down on his bed, and David, closing the door, took a seat on his own. Thad looked around at David and Blaine, grinning in a slightly nervous manner, as Sebastian patted his shoulder.
"Yeah, well, um, I think my parents not hating Sebastian now has a lot to do with that." Blaine felt his eyebrows leap up his forehead, face slackening with shock. David let out a choked laugh of disbelief, and Sebastian gave them both a condescending look that challenged their belief that he couldn't be charming.
"How the hell did that happen?" asked David. Thad let out a small laugh, going a little pinker and rolling his eyes.
"Well, my parents kind of invited him over for New Year because we'd been texting so much and everything, and they kind of get now that Sebastian is, um, well, he's…" Thad trailed off, trying to think of a polite way to phrase exactly what Sebastian was, which he was probably only trying to find because Sebastian was glowering at him.
"An acquired taste?" suggested David, and Blaine laughed, noting the rather self-satisfied look that had appeared on Sebastian's face.
"Yes," said Thad, nodding. "an acquired taste – that's a good one. So I think my mum's just sort of learnt to accept his sarcastic sense of humour and everything, and, God forbid, I think my dad actually likes him!" Blaine spluttered in amusement at that, struggling to imagine Thad's parents actually liking Sebastian. David roared with laughter, slumping back onto his covers whilst Sebastian rolled his eyes condescendingly and Thad pursed his lips and tried very hard to fight the laughter.
"So, what about you and your parents?" asked David, once he'd sat up and gained composure. "How are things between you?" Thad shifted around on the bed a little, looking marginally uncomfortable before shrugging.
"Good, I think…I mean, stuff with my mum was a little weird, but she's-" he bit down on the inside of his lip, pulling a face. "-she keeps blaming herself, and it's really not her fault, and I don't know how I can convince her of that…" he looked rather downhearted, and Sebastian put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Blaine cast his gaze back at the contents of his desk for a moment, thinking about his own mum and wondering whether she carried around the crushing burden of guilt too. "But things with my dad are great," continued Thad with a smile. "I actually don't think we've ever been this close before." Blaine felt his entire face fall, even though he was really happy for Thad, and looked back at the picture, feeling himself ache with misery over what was happening between himself and his dad.
"Alright," said Sebastian in his sharp voice, cutting through Blaine's dismal thoughts and making him look up at their concerned and confused faces. "out with it." Blaine frowned at him, and Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You've been moping around ever since you got back, and I know things at your place are pretty crap, but there's something wrong, and I've let it slide until David and Thad came back, but they're here now so just tell us what's wrong already, and why the hell you keep carrying that little model of a god awful Chevy around?" Blaine snorted, gently, at Sebastian's description of the car and picked it up.
"It's kind of complicated, but my brother told me – just before yours, David, it's why we were late – that he knocked up his girlfriend." He glanced at his friends and saw that, except for Sebastian who had arched an eyebrow, they didn't look particularly shocked, and he was glad that they didn't say anything. "He walked out on them," he muttered, voice dropping in volume and avoiding David's eyes. "and he thought it was going to ruin his career, and he actually wanted her to abort, and he went off on this whole spiel about how kids were just leeches." He closed his eyes, sighing, and shook his head slightly. "Then he stormed off, and I talked to your mum, David-" he looked over at his friend and saw that his expression was rather pinched and over composed but was still shot a small smile. "-and she told me about the ultrasound, and how she wanted to keep you when she saw you." It was weird and scary saying those words because it suddenly struck Blaine how close David had come to not existing, and how easy it was to alter everything with one decision.
"Yeah," murmured David, and Blaine could see a couple of tears were shining in his eyes. Thad got up and walked across the room, sitting down by David's side and putting an arm around his shoulders. Sebastian sat forward, intent expression on his face. Blaine sighed, biting his upper lip and deciding he might as well continue.
"Well, that gave me the idea to show Cooper pictures of the baby, and so I contacted Stephanie, and she sent me them, and I gave them to Cooper on Christmas, and we had a big argument-" Blaine decided to gloss over that before he accidentally spilt what he really felt about Kurt. "-where he said the kid would hate him because he didn't want him, and he didn't want to be hated like he hates dad because that'd hurt, and I pointed life is just designed to hurt you, and he could make it all count; all the crap with dad and the bringing-me-down, and then I left." He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Then the next morning I came downstairs, and he was getting ready to go. He-" Blaine broke off, shrugging but smiling a little. "-he just decided that, you know, he should make the crap we went through count, and he didn't want be like dad, or as bad as him, but dad would stay 'cause of duty and whatever…" Blaine shrugged. "Then my parents found us, and when Coop told them they were really happy, and dad basically extended the olive branch and everything, and Coop- Coop just-" he sighed, shaking his head. "Coop just burnt it; he questioned dad's duty to me, and then he said that he'd be proud if his kid grew up to be me, and then he asked dad when was the last time he loved me…That's where this comes in-" he jabbed his finger at the car and picked up the picture. "-we didn't know, and on the day I came back, dad left this on my desk…this is the last time he told me he loved me."
There was a moment of silence before Sebastian got up and walked over. Plucking the picture from Blaine's fingers, he looked at it with a frown. Then he handed the picture to Thad so that he and David could look at it. Blaine sat in his chair in silence, tears pricking his eyes and hoping that they could come up with a solution.
"Oh poor, Blainey," said David, hopping to his feet and embracing him warmly. Blaine clung onto him, and he felt someone else press their face into his shoulder, and he guessed that that was Thad. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you." Blaine screwed his eyes shut and inhaled sharply.
"Blaine," said Sebastian in a surprisingly soft voice, and Blaine turned to look at him, seeing that he had crouched down so that he was on better eye level with him. "I know exactly what you're looking for from us, but we can't give it to you – you're going to have to go looking for answers in people that might actually vaguely understand your dad's viewpoint: parents." Blaine shook his head, furiously, because he couldn't talk to his dad about this. He just couldn't. "If you can't talk to your dad than you need to talk to someone else…" and Blaine knew exactly what Sebastian was implying as his eyes bored into his. He felt his stomach lurch, feelings of nerves clogging his chest and sick crawling up his throat. The worst part was probably the fact that it made perfect sense.
Blaine scuffed his shoes against the front step, examining the shine of his polished school shoes. He felt nervous and stupid standing there, but he knew that Sebastian was completely right, and when he'd had time to think it over he knew that there was no one else he would ever feel comfortable talking about this with. However, after several more days of distraction and turning the matter over in his mind and coming to the conclusion that he just could not riddle this out, he knew he had no other choice and so had come.
Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, he looked at the front door and pushed the doorbell. He felt nervous and rather ill standing on the doorstep, like he was overstepping every boundary and being presumptuous and selfish, but he did also have other, genuine reasons. He had to face this, it wasn't that bad, but he was still really scared. A feeling that only intensified as a figure appeared in the frosted glass, and the door swung inwards.
"Blaine, good to see you!" Blaine looked up at Burt, smiling a little bit up at him even though he felt sick and nervous. He raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey, um, I have something for you." He dug into his pocket and pulled out the envelope, extending it to him with a thin-lipped grin. "It's the money for the ticket," he explained. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"No," said Burt, shaking his head and sticking his hands into his pockets with a stern look in his eyes. "I can't take your money, kid." Blaine huffed, gesticulating it in the air in front of him.
"You're not taking it – I'm paying you back; I owe you it." He could feel frustration building up inside of him rapidly, all of his pent up emotions that he'd kept locked down inside of him throughout school and Warblers suddenly bursting up inside of him. "You can give it to charity, for all I care, just take it!" he spat, throwing it onto the front step, pressing his hands over his eyes.
"Alright, kid, come in," said Burt, putting a hand on his back and guiding him into the house. Blaine could genuinely feel himself shaking after his outburst. He had no idea why had yelled at Burt, and he didn't feel any better for it, but he did feel really guilty about doing it because he shouldn't take his anger out on Mr Hummel.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, looking up as Burt ushered him into a chair. Burt sat down opposite, fixing him a look with quirked eyebrows that questioned what was going on and Blaine knew that Kurt had inherited. Burt put the envelope on the table, giving him a direct look. Blaine sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry," he said, again. "I just- I'm not having a great time, and...I'm just really tired – kind of running on a short fuse."
"Yeah, I can see that," said Burt, eyeing him intently. "but why did you come? I mean, I think you'd know I'd reject this so, why not send it in the post?" Blaine sighed, looking down at his hands for a moment before deciding that he might as well get this over and done with.
"I need some advice," he admitted, looking hesitantly up at Burt and wondering whether he was overstepping in asking him for help. Burt sat back in his seat, and Blaine could tell that he was analysing him carefully. "to do with my dad..." Burt's expression became one of immediate concern. "I'm fine," he added, hastily. "It's just-" he sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the little car and picture. He watched as Burt frowned, lifting up the picture and examining it and then inspecting the car. Then he shot Blaine a frown. Blaine sighed, running a hand over his eyes. "It's kind of long story, but basically..."
Then Blaine launched, once more, into the long task of explaining everything that had happened in his house over Christmas, except, naturally, for the parts when the story strayed towards Kurt because that would lead to a conversation that he did not want to have, and then also giving him, in as much detail as he could remember, the story behind the picture, and how he believed his father had obtained the car. Burt listened intently, a frown fixed upon his face the entire time, but Blaine took heart from the way he simply listened – not interrupting or pressing Blaine when he became a little overemotional.
"So that's why I came," he said, letting out a huge sigh as he reached the end of his tale. "because Sebastian was right; we're not parents so we haven't got a clue what would make him do this, but you're a dad, obviously, and you're a really great one, and there's no one else that I really feel comfortable talking with, so I was just wondering if you'd be able to help at all..." he trailed off as Burt nodded, picking up the little car with a frown.
"Blaine," he said, after he'd spun the car round in his hand a couple of times. "didn't you once tell me that your dad had made you build an old Chevy with him one summer, or something?" Blaine stared at him with wide eyes, whole face going slack with shock, because – stupid! – how could he have forgotten that? He slapped a hand into his forehead, slumping against the kitchen table because an explanation had been staring him in the face the entire time, and he had overlooked it in his panicked, confused state.
"Yes," he said, looking up and giving Burt a weak smile. "I did...I completely forgot. I mean, it was black the one we were rebuilding, but I remember dad saying we were going to spray paint it red...I can't believe I forgot!" Burt let out a small chuckle, putting the car back on the table and shooting him a sympathetic smile.
"Yeah, well, I think your mind's a little clouded with all your worries and everything." Blaine laughed a little bit, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes again.
"But why is he doing this?" he asked. Burt sighed, putting the car down on the table.
"I'm not sure I can really give you the answer you need, Blaine, but I think I can say this – your dad clearly holds this memory in high esteem. Blaine, this is something that matters to him greatly, but he's also harking back to a time before you were gay to him both with this and the car. I mean, he's holding onto one memory, and he's been holding onto it for a long time because you seem to have given him the little car, but he had the picture, and he kept it." Blaine bit down on the inside of his lip, frowning.
"So...?" Burt shook his head, frowning and pushing the picture and car back to Blaine.
"You need to talk to your dad about this, Blaine, you really do because from what I can see your dad has made an image of who you should be in his mind. He's looking at this picture, and he sees the son he wants, and you're not that kid, Blaine, because you're grown up and been through a lot, but, of course, he also fails to see that you are that kid. He can't reconcile the two different things in his head so he chooses to believe the easiest one for him to understand and accept; that you're not his son. I think you have to be careful, Blaine, because if this is him trying to reach out and you reject him then he could put this on you even more – blame you completely – and then he won't bend again. However, I also think you need to be honest with him about...whatever because you might not get another chance." Blaine put his hands over his eyes, exhaling heavily, because he couldn't avoid a confrontation with his dad no matter how much he wanted to.
Hey Blaine, want to meet up? It would need to be at McKinley, though-Finn
Blaine blinked, staring at the text message with bleary eyes, and tried to remember whether or not he had Warblers after school. His mind was really tired after how many days of school he'd had where he had been unable to concentrate and had barely had any sleep because he was too busy thinking about his dad and what he ought to do because he was really afraid of talking to his dad, being honest with him and hearing his dad say that he could never love him or be his son, and that it was just him, and that he deserved it.
"Say yes," said David, peering over his shoulder and looking at the text. Blaine would scowl at him, but he was too tired to and now he knew that they probably didn't have Warblers. "you need a break."
"Okay," muttered Blaine, giving David a weak smile, and tapped out a short, affirmative response to Finn. He hoped that spending a little bit of time with the New Directions at McKinley would help him take his mind off his dad and the memories that it conjured up and the fact that he had no idea what he ought to say and do.
"Blaine! God you look like crap!" Blaine snorted a little as he slammed his car door shut and walked over to him to be slapped heartily on the back. "Are you, like, sleeping at all?" Blaine shook his head, rubbing his eyes.
"Not really. What are you doing here so late?" he asked as they entered the school. Finn sighed a little.
"Well, it was kind of hard to keep the New Directions together after, you know, losing Sectionals, and so Coach Beiste suggested we have a Sadie Hawkins dance, which is happening tonight, and I am technically organising it."
"Oh," said Blaine, being painfully reminded of the one at his old school for a moment before shaking it off. "do you want me to perform or something?" Finn frowned, clearly taken aback, and then shook his head.
"No, but I heard that you were going through a tough time with your dad so..." he dragged Blaine into the auditorium and gestured to the microphone that stood in the middle of the stage. "I thought you could just sing it out." Blaine arched an eyebrow at him in confusion. Finn sighed. "Trust me, this works. Just imagine that your dad is standing at the back, and you can sing whatever you want to him." He patted Blaine on the back and then immediately walked away. Blaine stared after him, throwing his hands up in the air in silent confusion even though he desperately wanted to release all of his mixed up feelings. At the same time, that idea made him feel sick because the moment he let it out he couldn't take it back, but his feet were already taking him over to the microphone whilst his brain searched for an appropriate song – he couldn't fight the call of music.
Hey dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according to plan?
He sang tentatively into the microphone, trembling hands curling around it even though he was the only person in the auditorium, and he had no reason to be scared except the answer to that question would probably leave him feeling horribly sick and like an utter failure because he knew the answer, really: no, he hadn't grown up the way his dad had wanted him to – and he was really sorry for that.
And do you think I'm wasting my time
Doing things I wanna do?
But it hurts when you disapprove all along
He hated the way that his dad had never really had anything against his singing when he was a child – not really – because it was just another talent, but the moment he came out it was a horrible sin, and what did that mean? Did it mean that all the way through Blaine's childhood his dad had been lying through his teeth when he congratulated Blaine on his singing?
And now I try hard to make it
I just wanna make you proud
I'm never going to be good enough for you
He could feel the tears burning his eyes as he sung the bridge because he really did want to continue making his dad proud, and he thought maybe he could if he won trophies – big, important trophies – with his singing, but it wasn't enough...nothing was enough.
Can't pretend that I'm alright
And you can't change me
Well, that wasn't true because there was one thing that would be enough; denouncing his homosexuality, but he wasn't prepared to do that – he shouldn't have to – and he couldn't keep up the charade he had pulled at Christmas that said he was somehow okay with that.
'Cause we lost it all
And nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
He felt the first tears slide down out the corners of his eyes as he fought for control because he'd had a dad, and it was all gone because of Blaine even though Blaine tried really hard; harder than Cooper ever had, but his dad wouldn't ever extend the olive branch in the same way because Blaine couldn't be what he wanted.
Now it's just too late
And we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
The problem was that Burt was probably right: if Blaine didn't do something right now, his dad would probably slam shut the barricades once more, and Blaine wasn't going to get a second chance, but shouldn't it already be too late? His dad had been homophobic, and Blaine had insulted him in return – they couldn't change that.
I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside
Did you know you used to be my hero?
His whole body sagged in defeat as he acknowledged how much it pained him one of the people he had aspired to be like most when he was little was one of the people that had caused some of the most pain he'd ever experienced in his entire life.
All the days you spend with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore...
And how was he meant to have connected the Chevy his dad and he had tried to fix with the little toy he'd adored as a child when he'd shoved all the memories of those days as far away into the recesses of his mind because it had hurt too much to acknowledge the loss of his father's love?
Can't stand another fight
And nothing's alright...
He clamped both hands around the microphone, closing his eyes and bowing his head, and held on tightly to try and stop any of that insatiable anger from boiling up inside of him because he couldn't manage another fight because Blaine always came off worse in them; he always got kicked to the ground and then kicked when he was down for extra measure, and after Eli and Kurt and just everything, he couldn't handle any more of that right now. He'd been through too much to be able to cope with anything more.
Nothing's gonna change things that you said
Still, the anger burst out from inside of him anyway as he tore the microphone from its stand and yelled into it, releasing of his pent up hurt over what his father had said to him and all the anger that he was expected to change and shift for his dad when it was his dad that had said homophobic and cruel things.
And nothing's gonna make this right again
He was crying as he stormed around the stage, smashing his feet into like a precocious two year old having a temper-tantrum, and let all of his fury come tearing out of him because his dad had made the bed, but it was Blaine that had to lie in it, and it wasn't fair!
Please don't turn your back
I can't believe it's all just a talk to you
But you don't understand
He fell still quickly, though, and simply stared out at the rows upon rows of empty seats, vaguely remembering a time when his dad would fill one in order to watch him, and was filled with hopelessness because even if talking to him was the right thing to do there was no guarantee that his father would even listen to him because he had long ago proven that he didn't really care what Blaine had to say and that he completely failed at understanding how important and complicated the situation was; Blaine couldn't just snap his fingers and make himself not gay, nor did he want to. His dad just told him off and then walked away so why would he listen now?
'Cause we lost it all...
Regardless, he ploughed his way through the chorus once more, apologising for failing his dad even though his dad was the one that rejected him and was too narrow-minded to see that Blaine being gay was perfectly normal and that he hadn't changed as completely as if he had been replaced with an alien! He was really sorry that he couldn't be perfect even though no one was perfect, no matter how much they were idolised or raised up above the rest; not even Kurt, because they were all human, and all humans did was screw up and hurt each other whether through words, weaponry or will.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
Blaine sang the last sentence at a whisper, even though it was amplified throughout the entire hall. Then he sighed and placed the microphone back on its stand, wiping the tears from his eyes and not sure that he felt better. However, before he could take time to figure that out properly, the sound of applause cut through the auditorium, and a figure stepped out of the shadows at the side of the room and into the pool of light cast onto the floor by the spotlights on the stage. Blaine's mouth fell open in shock.
"Dad?!"
