They can still hear rain.

'Do you think it worked?'

Blaine shrugs. 'We won't know until we go outside.' He snorts. 'Oh, god.'

'What? What could you possibly be laughing at right now? This is serious, this is the moment that determines if we ever see our families again-'

'No, I know, but – we have to come out of the closet. Sorry. I hate my brain.'

They sit in the dark a little longer, laughing to themselves quietly.

'I hate it too.' She runs her hand through her hair without thinking. 'Oh my god. Blaine, Blaine, feel my hair.' Before he can object, she grabs his hand and pushes it into her hair. 'It's straight.' She touches her thigh, then his. 'Denim! Blaine, we're in jeans!'

He scrambles to his feet, pulling her up with him. She grabs the door and pulls it open. It's dark, and it's still raining, but… it's now. It's the café, the tatty chairs, the register, and for a moment they're both silently disappointed. Blaine's shoulders sag, and Santana sighs deeply.

Blaine reaches for his phone.

'Same date as when we left.'

She nods. 'That's good.' She glances over at his screen. 'Any new matches?'

'Very funny.' He taps through to delete a handful of apps, tilting the screen out of Santana's eyeline. The thought of using them now makes him cringe. 'So. Now what?'

'We go home, I guess.'

'We try to be happy.'

She looks at him, taking another deep breath. 'This is going to be hard, isn't it?'

'Surely we've done harder things by now.'

She smiles, even though they know this will be a different kind of difficult. This is real life, with their real families, and finally telling the truth. 'Need a ride home? I need to lock up first-'

'It's okay. I think I'll walk. Plan what I'm going to say.'

'Fair. Let me know how it goes?'

He nods. 'I'll text you later. Oh, technology, can't wait to get addicted to you again.'

'Really, though. If anything goes – I can come and get you and feed you chocolate at my place.'

Blaine's stomach churns. He's prepared to feel vulnerable and small and nervous, but the thought of it going really badly makes him feel sick. Thank god Santana is still there, smiling at him. 'Okay, could you actually drive me home and then just… wait outside? Until I let you know it's all right?'

She takes his hand. 'Let's go. You can plan your speech in the car.'

He barely says a word the whole journey, forcing her to fill the silence: 'It's going to be fine. They think the sun shines out of your ass. If my dad can deal with my gayness, then your woke-as-fuck parents definitely can. They'll be organising a Lima Pride march by next week.' He nods, unable to force a smile. She almost ends up shoving him out of the car when they arrive, after ten minutes waiting at the end of the driveway.

'You promise you won't go anywhere?'

She nods. 'Not until you give me the signal. Jazz hands or a high kick or whatever.'

He waits on the porch until the rain has soaked through his clothes, his key waiting in the lock, until he finally turns it.

Blaine's mother sees him from the couch and frowns. She eases herself to her feet carefully, trying not to wake his father.

'Honey, you're soaked. I didn't even know you'd gone out. Where have you been? It's late, anything could've happened-'

'I need to talk to you. Both of you.'

She senses that this won't wait until the morning.

'Okay. Do you want me to wake your father?'

He shakes his head. 'I'll do it. This needs to come from me.'

Her brow furrows further, and she touches his arm. 'I'm getting you a towel. However important this is, it's not worth hypothermia.'

He sits next to his father on the couch, and the dip in the cushion is enough to stir him awake.

'Blaine?' He blinks a few times, and his expression quickly matches his wife's. 'Son, where have you been? Why are you so wet-' he checks the clock, 'it's almost midnight. Were you out in the storm?' He places a warm palm on Blaine's forehead. 'It's not good for you to be out in rain like this, you'll catch your death.' He clocks Blaine's face under the dripping curls, his refusal to make eye contact. 'Blaine, what's wrong?'

The concern in his voice makes Blaine's insides twist painfully, and the barrage of questions leaves his head spinning.

'Nothing's wrong, Dad. I just want to talk to you and Mom about something.'

His father shifts to sit up properly, rubbing the dregs of sleep from his eyes. He senses Blaine's tension and the questions stop. 'Okay. That's fine, whatever you want. Wait, should I get you a towel?'

His mother comes back in then, with a warm towel and a fluffy robe to drape over him. 'It's your dad's. I didn't want to go into your room, you know, in case you didn't want me to.'

She sits next to him. He wonders if they're trying to guess what he's about to say. Maybe they've known this for months. Years. Maybe they think he's on drugs. Maybe they're bracing themselves for him to reveal a pregnant girlfriend. At least if that's what they're thinking, this can only end in relief.

'Baby, you look worried. Whatever it is, it's okay, I promise.'

He stares into his mother's and father's eyes in turn. He wants to remember the way they look at him now, just in case that look goes away. His father holds his hand. His mother scrubs gently at his hair with the towel. With the robe wrapped round his shoulders he feels like he's 4 and they've just got him out of the bath. The only sound in the room is the dying crackle of the fireplace.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

'I'm gay. I'm gay. I don't know why I said it twice. I'm sorry I, you know, didn't tell you sooner, I just-'

He feels each hand being held by a parent. His mother pulls him close, and he goes limp, letting her hold him, still stroking his hair through the towel, pressing kisses to his forehead.

'Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. You haven't done anything wrong.'

'We're so glad you've told us, sweetheart,' his father says, leaning forward so he can look Blaine in the eyes. 'It doesn't matter how long it took. But you don't have to keep any secrets from us.'

Blaine can barely remember what questions he was expecting – how long has he known, did he think they would be angry, does he have a boyfriend… he has no idea how he would've answered that one anyway. The questions don't come.

'You're perfect, Blaine. Nothing could stop us from thinking you're the best kid in the whole world, and definitely not this. You're still the little baby I held the night you were born. A lot like this, actually.'

He laughs, his shoulders sagging with relief.

'Thank you.'

'Thank you for trusting us.' His father wipes a tear from Blaine's cheek, ignoring the rogue one rolling down to his own chin. 'I hope you know this already, but I'm going to say it just in case: we love you. We will always love you. Unless you murder somebody or something. No, probably still even then.'

'Okay, Daniel, I think he gets it.'

Blaine keeps blinking tears out of his eyes and pushes himself to sit upright. 'Hold on. I need to do something.'

He shuffles to the front door, opening it to see Santana staring intensely at the house. She raises her eyebrows at him. He nods, smiling, albeit through a few sniffs. She gives a thumbs up, quickly cringing at herself, then drives away. He walks back to the couch.

'Santana?' his mom asks. He nods. 'Good. I'm glad you two are still friends. It must help to have other friends who are, you know, on your team.'

'You know about Santana?'

'Well, she's dropped a few hints here and there. You were clearly never interested in each other romantically, and you're a very handsome boy, so her being a lesbian always made more sense to me.'

'Okay, Stephanie, I think he gets it.' His father smirks at his mother, and she scowls back playfully. He feels more at home with them than he has in so long, and pointless as it may be, he can't help wishing he'd done this much sooner.

'Can I ask you guys something?'

'Of course.'

'But if it's sexual, I might need to do some research before I can give you a full answer.'

'No, Mom, it's not – did you already know? About me?'

They glance at each other, shrugging slightly.

'We always tried not to assume either way.'

'Blaine,' his father says, a hand on his shoulder, 'most parents fantasize about their kids bringing a date home for the first time. We've talked about it, but we tried to keep it gender neutral. Not he or she, just they.'

He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. They've always been like this. Cooper brought home some real messes and they always had the benefit of the doubt. Every time they'd seen a gay character on TV, they always said 'good for them' and 'thank goodness the world is seeing sense now'. Despite how terrified he was ten minutes ago, Blaine is now so relieved he doesn't know what to do, so he cries. He cries for the scared kid keeping a huge secret, for the teenager who knew far too much too young, for the lonely, lost man he could've become. After hours of crying and talking and more crying, he doesn't argue when his parents tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. It feels like he's getting a second chance at being young and innocent, and he chooses to relish it. Every night of coming home feeling dirty and used disappears, and he's a little boy being looked after by his mom and dad. He sleeps better than he has since his fifteenth birthday.

Santana looks up to their apartment. She's not looking forward to what she needs to do, but she can't stop smiling for Blaine. He's spent so long acting like he doesn't care what anyone thinks, but she always knew how much his parents' approval means to him. If he can do that, she can do this.

It's quiet inside, other than the muffled sound of the TV. Dad's asleep on the couch, the volume turned way down so as not to wake Luna. She spots a half-full glass of clear liquid on the floor next to him, and she takes a sip, some concern edging into her mind. It's water. Thank god. She can't deal with him having a drinking problem, too.

She gives him a nudge. 'Come on, big guy. Your bed might get jealous.'

He smiles when he sees her, calmly complying with her instructions. 'Hi, honey. How was school? Or work?'

'Both were fine. How awake are you?'

'Not very.'

'Well, I still want you to listen to me carefully.'

He frowns, stands up straight and looks at her properly. 'What's wrong?'

Old Santana would've said 'everything', but this Santana doesn't. 'It's not about wrong. I just want us to make a plan in the morning. We're going to make things better, okay? And we're going to do it together.'

He registers her tone, different to anything he's heard from her in a long time. He looks very serious, and nods. 'Right. Okay.' He pauses before he goes into his bedroom. 'I love you, kid. You know that, right?'

She expects to have to fight back an involuntary eye-roll or a cutting retort. Nothing comes.

'I love you too, Dad.'

She goes into Luna's room and kneels next to her bed, stroking her hair, and before she can stop herself, she's crying. She tries to bury her face in Luna's bedding, but it's not enough to muffle the sound.

'Tana? What's wrong?'

Luna puts a hand on her cheek, wiping tears away with her thumb.

'Nothing's wrong, Lulu. I'm fine. Everything's going to be fine.'

'Then don't cry.'

'I just missed you so much.'

Luna gives her a confused look. 'You've only been at work for a few hours.'

She laughs. 'It felt much longer.'

Luna puts her hand on Santana's. 'Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?'

She nods, and crawls in beside her baby sister, hugging her tight before finally getting a good night's sleep, knowing she's okay.

She's waiting for her father in the morning, with a pen and paper on the table in front of her. There's coffee and toast ready for him. It's the earliest he's been up in weeks, but he's showered and dressed to show her he's ready to try.

Half an hour later, before Luna's up, they've created a list of what he's going to get done today. They've already ticked some off – shower, dress, breakfast – and there are some more that he's going to complete while she's at school: clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, do some laundry. The last item is one she's going to help him with when she gets home. Make an appointment with a therapist.

The only emotions Santana has shown in front of her father for years have been frustration, annoyance, even disdain, but not this morning.

'Santana, thank you for all of this. I know I've been letting you girls down for too long. I shouldn't need you to do this for me, but… but I'm really grateful that you have.'

'It wasn't fair that I was so angry with you for such a long time. You didn't deserve it. She's the one who left. You could have spent the last six years telling us how awful she was for leaving, but you didn't. And I could've tried harder to notice what was happening with you.'

'No. It's not your job to take care of me. You're the kid. Your job is to go to school, have crushes on girls, be a cheerleader or something, not take care of me and your sister. But you did it anyway. And now you're still helping me. I don't know what I would've done without you the last few years and I won't let you feel guilty for not doing more.' He takes her hand. 'I'm going to do this. I'm going to be better for both of you. For me.'

For the first time since she can remember, she cries a little in front of him. 'We're both going to do this. Okay, I'm going to get Luna's breakfast.'

'No, you're not. I'll take care of your sister. You're going to listen to loud music in your bedroom or go shoplifting or something else cool teenagers do.'

She laughs. 'That sounds like a lot of work. How about I have another coffee with you guys?'

'Perfect.' He gets up and pours her another cup before pulling her to his chest for a hug. 'I'm a very lucky man. Thank you, Tana.'

She hugs him back, letting herself be held, feeling tiny again.

The walk to school seems to take forever. They're both so exhausted they can barely move, never mind catch up on the night's events. Santana puts some big headphones on Luna and gets her bopping to Little Mix so they can talk properly.

'And they took it all okay?'

'We all cried. Mostly me. They got really worried about me, and it was probably justified. Mom asked me if I was safe, and I said yes but I know it wasn't totally true, so long story short I am getting an STD screening on Friday. And my dad's getting tested too so I don't have to go by myself. It's sweet in the kind of way that makes me want to die.'

'Why does your dad have to do a test if he's a grown-up?'

'Luna, play the next song.'

'Okay.'

'Holy crap, B.'

'And they want me to go to therapy. No, no,' he says when Santana looks horrified, 'not that kind of therapy. Just like, talking to someone to deal with what Dad referred to as my messed-up self-esteem and internalised homophobia. Which actually makes a lot of sense, even though I hadn't realised it before.'

'Well, you do hate yourself.'

'I mean, I know I've got a lot better the last few weeks, but I couldn't explain why, and I don't want to get back into old habits. It makes sense to talk things through with somebody.'

'Well, let me know if you get someone good. Dad and I agreed to find somebody for him to talk to as well.'

'Oh, really? Tana, that's great!'

'Yeah, it should be. And this morning he was fully dressed before breakfast. Funny how not telling him he sucks makes it easier for him to do better.'

'It's okay that you were mad at him.'

'That's what he said. Anyway, we came up with stuff he can get done today, so hopefully he can start to feel like he's doing something good. I don't know if it'll work, but it feels like a start. And it's not just me doing everything for him.'

'I feel like we could justify taking a personal day today. Just call school and say "sorry, I think I've been time-travelling and now I'm working through a bunch of trauma in a sensible, mature way, so I'm not going to make it in. See you tomorrow." Then we wouldn't have to do the next part.'

'I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I have the weirdest feeling that won't cut it. Anyway, now is supposed to be the fun bit, right? You get to see Kurt, I get to see Brittany.'

'We get to see the versions of them that still think we're garbage.'

'True. But they're the same people, right? I don't know about Kurt, but the more Brittany grew when we were there, the more she reminded me of the Brittany I knew before.'

He thinks about it. He doesn't really know modern Kurt that well, but he knows he's confident, kind, passionate, eager to make the world a better place… a lot like the Kurt he got to know over the last few weeks. And he's famous for his bold outfit choices. The main difference between there and here is Blaine. There he was appropriate, polite, not a creep. He's managed to cut the bullshit at home, so maybe he can do it at school and be the Blaine he actually enjoyed being.

They keep their heads down for most of the day. They're both too nervous to talk to Brittany or Kurt, and it's easy because neither will make eye contact with them after yesterday. They hadn't realised just how sad their school life was before they'd had a taste of getting involved and being popular. Now it feels truly pathetic. But it's okay – they've chosen the right time to talk to them properly.

At the end of the day, they make their way to Mrs Hawkins' room. There's a mix of kids in there, freshmen up to seniors, lots of wild hair colours, the younger students chattering excitedly among themselves.

Mrs Hawkins' face lights up when she sees them, sending a pang of guilt through Santana. 'New members! Welcome, both of you!' They take a seat, and everyone introduces themselves, including the teacher, stating their pronouns. A couple of kids specify that their pronouns in here are different to their pronouns elsewhere, because this is the only place they feel safe enough to be out, or even because they're just trying out a new name in here before they tell anyone else. Blaine is trying so hard to be visibly earnest that he forgets to say his pronouns until a sophomore reminds him. He apologises profusely, his skin burning. He starts to miss being grey.

'Okay, as you can see, we're creating a display of our personal LGBT+ heroes. It can be whoever you want, but we don't want twenty Ellens. Try and make some diverse choices, people.' She speaks to Santana and Blaine quietly while everyone else gets to work. 'If you want to stay together, that's fine, but this can be a great space to make new friends. You might want to try and sit next to somebody you don't know very well. I'm sure some of the younger members would be more than happy to make you feel welcome.'

They nod, each drifting tentatively towards a group. It's a funny balance – they've all been in this club since the first week of school, but very few have experienced anything more than a crush. Blaine and Santana are more experienced than them in a lot of ways, but in this room they feel clueless. The others share stories of coming out, and explain how this club helped them feel brave enough to do it, and when Blaine explains that he came out to his parents last night, they all scream and ask him a thousand questions. He doesn't notice Kurt glancing at him from his computer, and Santana doesn't notice Brittany walking over to her group.

'You seem sad today.'

'What? I didn't think you would want to talk to me.'

Britt shrugs. 'I didn't. But I hate it when you're sad. I think I hate you being sad more than I hate me being sad. So now I'm double sad. And I think maybe if you're sad, that's probably why you yelled at me yesterday.'

'I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry, Britt, I've just got a lot going on right now – but it still wasn't fair to take it out on you. You just wanted to make our presentation fun.'

'But you've got a job, and you've got to take care of your sister. We'll work on something more simple.' Her smile is so gentle it almost sets Santana off crying again. She's never treated herself with this much kindness here before; she doesn't know how to react to it from her. She swallows past the lump in her throat and nods. Brittany senses that Santana needs a change of subject. 'But it's so cool that you're joining the club! It's so fun, and the younger kids think we're super wise and they just love talking about how gay they are.'

Santana laughs. 'Well, that sounds fun.'

'And you know… maybe it means we can see each other more. Without all the other girls. We could even go for coffee afterwards if you want. Just to talk about it in private or whatever.'

They both smile.

'Um, yeah. I'd love that. Thanks, Britt.'

Their pinkies lock together under the table.

Blaine works with the younger students for the whole hour, recounting his coming out story, answering lots of questions, floundering when they ask him for advice as an older gay teen. All he knows how to do is keep it a secret and have a breakdown. He doubts Mrs Hawkins will approve of him giving them advice on how to guarantee a Grindr hookup. For a moment, he thinks he catches a glimpse of Kurt laughing, but he can't be sure without making it obvious that he's looking, and he wants Kurt to know that he's come here to get involved and be part of the community, not just to bother him.

By 4 o'clock, they've listened to a lot of Troye Sivan and put together a display with lots of Drag Race stars, the Queer Eye guys and Stephanie Beatriz, and Blaine feels utterly exhausted. But he's ready to keep coming back so he can show Kurt he's not a jackass, and maybe gradually build up to an actual conversation with him. But the two of them are the last people there aside from Mrs Hawkins when the rest leave. Santana gives Blaine a 'you okay?' look from the door, but he nods so she can run away with Brittany.

'I never thought I'd see you here.'

Blaine shrugs, nervous even to make eye contact with Kurt. He perches on the edge of a table and Kurt stands facing him, leaning against a wall. Mrs Hawkins gets up.

'I need to go and get my printing done for tomorrow's classes. You two take your time.' She scuttles away, obviously wanting to give them a moment, and if anything, it makes Blaine feel even more embarrassed and awkward.

'You made it sound nice. And I'm trying something new. Trying to be… different.'

'I don't think you need to be different. You could just act a little differently. Maybe don't talk to people at school like you're at a gay bar.'

Blaine nods, knowing he hasn't got a leg to stand on. 'Yeah. I wanted to apologise about that.'

'I'm ready.'

'I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't know why I thought that was an okay thing to say-'

Kurt's face gets a little softer. 'Did you really just come out last night? To your parents?'

He nods. 'All part of the same process. You're right – it's not about being different. It's about being more honest. The way I spoke to you yesterday, that was me trying to be different. I'm mortified about it.'

'Is that how you talk to other guys? On, like, apps and stuff? God, you know what – don't answer that. It's none of my business.'

Blaine's gaze is fixed firmly on his shoes.

'It's fine. It's easy to copy it after a while.'

Kurt watches Blaine for a moment, the way he picks at his sleeve and how he carries himself so differently to yesterday. He wonders for a beat if it's an act, part of a more elaborate scheme to trick Kurt into something, but it just can't be.

'Do you want to go for a walk? It's stuffy in here. You look like you need some fresh air.'

Blaine makes himself look up at Kurt and make proper eye contact. He expects it to sting, to be full of suspicion and irritation, but it's all softness and understanding. He swallows and nods.

'That sounds good.'

They get coffee to go and walk through the park – nowhere near as pretty as the last one Blaine was in, but there's satisfaction in the crunch of orange and brown leaves underfoot and after weeks of solid grey sunshine it's nice to feel a chill. They talk, never fully delving into the depths of Blaine's past, but discussing their exasperation with straight people, Blaine's friendship with Santana, the vibe between her and Brittany, and it's such a relief. Here, the only conversations he's had with other gay guys have been full of innuendo and suggestion rather than just chatting about everyday things. Of course, it's not like it was with Kurt before: this Kurt knows he's gay, and knows so clearly who he is, which shifts the dynamic between them, but Blaine doesn't hate it. It's easier in a way, now that he doesn't have to explain anything, or have the pressure of being Kurt's introduction to so many ideas. They're on more even ground. Blaine hadn't even noticed his fear that he would just be too fixated on that perfect connection to make any more here, but it's unfounded. They sit on a bench for a while, not minding that their butts get damp, laughing at the kids playing on the jungle gym.

'Don't get me wrong, I probably wouldn't hang out with most of them if it weren't for the club. So many pop culture references go completely over their heads. The only showtunes they know are from The Greatest Showman, and there's only so many times I can listen to This is Me.'

'Yeesh. That's understandable.'

'The only overlap in our Venn diagram of interests is Lady Gaga. But I know if I'd had an older gay kid to look up to when I was that age, it would've been way less scary coming to terms with who I was. So I keep going and doing those little projects so I can help them feel safe. And obviously talk about Golden Girls with Mrs Hawkins.'

'Obviously.'

'She's actually incredible. I told my dad there's an openly bi teacher at school and he said that would've been unimaginable when he was a kid. She probably would've gotten fired for that thirty years ago.'

Blaine smiles. 'Well, I've never seen Golden Girls, but my Broadway knowledge is decent. I can keep coming if it helps you stay sane.'

He's not sure, but he thinks he can see a coy smile tugging at Kurt's lips.

'I'd appreciate it. Also, you categorically need to see Golden Girls. Specifically, you need to see it with my commentary. I know I don't know Santana that well, but she is such a Dorothy it's not even funny.'

'That would be great. And I probably need more friends than just Santana, right?'

Kurt pauses. 'Mm-hmm. Yes.'

'Oh, sorry- did I say something wrong?'

Kurt sighs. 'No. I guess I was just low-key hoping you'd hit on me again, just in a less graphic way than yesterday. But hey, friends is fine.'

'No, no, I don't- uh-' he shifts on the bench to face Kurt properly, and Kurt smiles at him properly this time. 'Sorry. Kurt, would you like to, maybe, go on a date with me some time? Even if that date is watching Golden Girls at your house? And I can stay three feet apart at all times if it would make you more comfortable.'

'I'll think about it.' He slips his hand into Blaine's pocket and picks up his hand to unlock it before putting his number in with no name except the flamenco dancer emoji. 'I need to get home. It's my turn to make dinner tonight. But text me, and we'll figure it out.'

Blaine walks Kurt home, even though it's way out of his way.

'Thanks for this, Kurt.'

'Hey, you bought the coffee.'

'I mean for today. For even considering talking to me after I was so gross.'

Kurt shrugs one shoulder. 'I taught my dad who Patti LuPone is, I can definitely teach you how to be a decent human being. And it was fun. I don't know if you knew this, but you're actually pretty cute. That's why I wanted you to come to the club in the first place.'

'Oh, really?'

'Mmm. Something about the triangular eyebrows, maybe.'

Blaine doesn't know what to say in return. A joke about the black Doritos balanced on his forehead. What he really wants to say is that he thinks Kurt might be the most beautiful person he's ever seen. Even though he wants to be more honest, he also doesn't want to give the impression that he's going to start climbing in his window while he's asleep or anything. And he's not in any hurry to speed to the finish line with Kurt. They've got so much time.

'I'll take it.'

Smiling, Kurt tilts his head slightly and Blaine realises he's offering his cheek. He lets his fingertips touch Kurt's as he reaches up, stretching onto his toes a little, until his lips touch Kurt's skin. When he pulls away he can see Kurt barely containing his excitement, his cheeks quickly turning pink.

It's only for a second, but Blaine can feel the soft warmth of that cheek lingering around him for hours afterwards.

Note:

I know. I am trash. I started this in Many and now it's almost Christmas. But there's only one more chapter after this one, and I really hope you'll all think it's worth the wait. Thanks so much everyone who's stuck with it for 9000 years. I promise I haven't abandoned it and it will be finished soon! Hopefully before work starts again in January!