TRIGGER WARNINGS: The following themes are in this fic: self-harm, addiction, homophobia, abuse, abandonment, self-destructive behaviors and thoughts, suicidal thoughts. If you are not into serious angst, depression and dark fics, feel free to skip this one.

Chapter 9: The conversion: POV Blaine

He was in the business building, sitting across from Kurt. Kurt was sitting there looking straight at him, with a sort of sparkle in his eyes. The sunlight from the sunset reflecting off of them and the colors mixing in with some of the blue. Blaine could feel heat flush on the back of his neck and his pants were suddenly tighter as Kurt, still looking at him, shifted his hand up to stroke Blaine's cheek with his thumb. Blaine had never felt such a soft touch and reached up to touch Kurt's hand…BEEP… BEEP…BEEP… BEEP… BEEP.

Blaine sat up in a startle as his alarm went off. He reached over and shut it off. He laid back down with a frustrated sigh. He was so needy from that dream, and was at his parent house, and had to be perfect for today and here he was, dreaming about the crush he wasn't even supposed to have. He laid there hoping to calm his senses down, but no matter how hard he tried his semi-hardon was not leaving him. He got up and walked to the shower, turned it on and stripped out of his clothes. He got in and this time when he closed his eyes, he decided to just do it. Just imagine Kurt stroking his face with the soft pad of his thumb and then stroking his lips, and then leaning in closer to breath on him, and before he knew it he was coming all over the shower glass and himself. He found himself sliding down to sit on the shower floor again. His legs always felt like jello after thinking of Kurt.

He was surprised that this young freshman, who had probably just become old enough to vote, made him feel such pleasure. He got out after cleaning himself off and went to the bedroom to change into his pre-party outfit of the day. He changed into his clothes and then went over to the small dresser to put on his glasses and watch when he looked up and saw the cross his mother had of course placed in the room. It was the perfect reminder Blaine needed on what he was going to encounter today, and what he was trying to prove to his father, and mother. That despite being destined for hell, he could still be successful. He took a deep breath and went downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

The day surprisingly went by quickly as he helped his mother prepare for the guests. She had plenty of maids in the house to help but Blaine knew she would much prefer for him to make sure everything was right, and he knew it would win him some brownie points, especially because he was never home. His father and him did a great job at avoiding each other all day and he wasn't going to complain about it. The party was scheduled to start at 6, and by 5:30 everything was in place and ready to go. And just as he was about to go upstairs and get ready his mother came down looking gorgeous in a long gold satin evening gown that draped in all the right places and flowed behind her as she walked. He took a moment to compliment how beautiful she looked and then headed upstairs, thanking the universe for giving him her eyes, and complexion.

Blaine had thought a lot about what he would wear. He didn't want to appear too modern, but still wanted to show off his new look from Dalton Boy, to Businessman. He went with a dark burgundy suit with a simple black undershirt. The suit was slim and fit him in all the right places, and the burgundy was dark enough to be viewed as masculine and in with the season. He then put on a black watch with hints of gold and placed his gold aviator ray-bans on. He had slight stubble, and a haircut that was extremely clean cut but still left a quarter inch of curls on the top of his head so he could coif them just right. He paired the suit with patent leather slim fitted dress shoes.

He looked good, and he was sure to swoon his mother and her fellow housewives with his grown up and sophisticated look. But he wasn't any less nervous. He knows what those socialite Christians think of him, and yet he still comes trying to impress. He took a deep breath, and said it to himself out loud, "Courage. Confidence is silent."

It was 6:00pm and he stood in the entry way with his mother and father, greeting their guest as they came in. Looking the role of the perfect son and enjoying as the women remarked on how grownup he looks. By 7pm they were all seated at the three long tables that his mother had decorated perfectly for fall, with orange, yellow and cream accents under a beautiful event tent with lanterns and fairy lights draped. She had seated his father at the head of the middle table, herself to the right of him and Blaine to left of him. It was the closest he'd been to his father since Christmas and he couldn't help but be particularly annoyed with it. But he knew her intentions. She asked the priest from the church to pray over their meal, and Blaine bowed his head in order to blend in with the crowd. He'd hoped to have done enough small talk with everyone before being seated that he would be able to go under the radar but as the priest started to pray Blaine soon realized that he had hoped too highly.

"Lord we pray to you today to give you thanks for this gathering here at the Andersons home. We are so blessed that you have so graciously blessed them with the wine and bread to share with others. Father, we know you have the ability to purify and sanctify the sinner, and we understand that in redemption we can be saved. Help the sinner in this room come to redemption, for perversion is of Satan, and pray lord that the Andersons be blessed with a new child that is purified, and beautiful in the eyes of the lord. God bless this food and all whom consume it in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit Amen."

As Blaine heard the prayer, he couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. He wasn't angry just sad and embarrassed for his parents. He was trying his best. He was successful, hadn't had a single relationship through college, and wasn't planning on having one. He just wanted his father and mother to look at him once, just once, and say they were proud of him. That's all he wanted and that's the only reason he showed up to this stupid party. He knew the judgement would happen, he knew the comments would occur, but he didn't realize that the conversion camp would still confront him tonight as a 23-year-old. He had forgotten this world.

He lifted his head to see many people looking straight at him or to see people trying to avoid him. His mother couldn't bear to look at him, and he could see the wetness at the corner of her eye, a tear threatening to fall. His father promptly stood up with his wine glass in his hand, "Thank you father for that beautiful prayer. We truly appreciate your concern and pray for the same thing every day. We would like to thank you all for coming to our home tonight. My beautiful wife always does a wonderful job at putting this evening together and we are so glad to call every single one of you a dear friend. Let us toast, to the fall harvest and to this wonderful weather". Everyone, including Blaine lifted their glass to toast. Blaine figured the best course of action would be to act thankful for the prayer, and remain composed, just like all those years of Dalton taught him.

The evening went on, and at around 8:30PM the mingling had returned, and the line dancing had started. Blaine by this point had enjoyed 3 glasses of wine and wasn't going to go any farther than that until everyone left. The housewives were approaching him one by one commenting on their own prayers for him, since the priest made it a free for all conversion camp. Each woman with their unloving, "good" intentions.

"Blaine, I pray you find the right girl."

"Blaine dear, you look so handsome, I'm sure God will work in you".

"Blaine, I hope you come to the good lord. You know my nephew no longer has those kinds of thoughts". Blaine would smile and nod and thank them, and when he got a moment to breath, he would think of those ocean eyes, and bright cheekbones, and the how soft his hair must be.

By 11PM all the guest had left, and Blaine promptly excused himself after congratulating his mother for what a great success her party had been. (He knew he was lying to her; she hadn't been able to look at him all night.) He grabbed a wine bottle and went up to his room. He locked the door behind him, and started to drink, and drink, and drink. Once the bottle was finished, he laid down on the floor in his underwear with only the dim lighting of a small lamp and enjoyed the numbness. The moment in which he could escape the intensity of feeling broken, unwanted, and dirty with the newfound knowledge that whatever he did, may it be perfect grades, perfect resume, perfect suit, perfect hair, it would never be enough.

He almost fell asleep but got up off the floor to purge all the alcohol so the extra sugar wouldn't ruin his waistline and then crawled into bed.