A/N: TWO comments about my fic that made me cry in one week? I love all my readers so much, even though there are not many of you ;) Also: if you want to find me on Tumblr or LJ my username is the exact same (loverhusband).

A/N: So I am very late uploading this. I wrote this chapter over a large number of sittings because it was very hard for me (due to personal reasons). It was supposed to be *THE* chapter, but I got caught up writing about Blaine and his mother so that is being pushed to part 7 (I hope). My own "coming out" to my mother went...well, worse than what I wrote here for Blaine. Let's leave it at that. But coming out to your parents is definitely one of the hardest things you can imagine. I don't think I captured quite how difficult it is here, actually. I hope that any other "queer" people reading this chapter can identify with Blaine and I hope that any straight people reading this chapter can somewhat understand what it might be like. That was my goal. Aaaaand end rant~

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the characters in Glee. Sadly.

Sometimes it's on the tip on my tongue
But only spoken aloud, alone while I'm praying

I'm dying here, I'm all alone

You don't want to hear it
You don't want to see me
Can't bear to see me

Please see me

"Why would someone write...that word...on your locker?"

Everything was happening all too fast for the fragile, scared boy. Blaine felt like he had just finished scrubbing his locker, the memories of the unrelenting yellow words still fresh in his mind, and here they were already back to haunt him. He didn't want to deal with his mother; not yet.

"Please, mom, can we just sit down or something? I just got home"

"Blaine, why would someone write 'FAG' on your locker?"

She looked very concerned and it was evident that she was not backing down. Looking closer at her face, Blaine thought it looked as if she had been crying. It was not too obvious, but Blaine knew what someone looked like after they had been crying. This gave him good reason to suspect this was a question about a lot more than just his school life.

"Mom, please. Can I take a shower first, maybe eat some dinner? I am tired. I just got home. Can-..."

"Why would someone do that? Answer me."

Normally, it would have been faster for Blaine to think up a lie than solve a simple math problem. Lying had become such a huge part of who he was over the years. Today though, nothing was coming to him. Still, ideas rushed through Blaine's mind as he stood in the doorway trying to figure out a way to bypass his mother.

"I don't know who it was. I don't know why they did it. Now can I please..."

"Blaine you are not going anywhere until I get some answers."

Looking up at her eyes, Blaine started to realise the concern he saw before was really panic. Perhaps it is just my paranoia, Blaine thought, but I think she knows something. He was sure that his mask had worked all these years. As far as Blaine knew, his mother saw him as a happy, well-adjusted boy with no problems at school or at home. This was always the image he had fought so hard to project to the world. It didn't have a single crack or flaw as far as he knew. Or did it?

"Look, I need to take a shower first. We can talk about this later!" Blaine said angrily, pushing past his mother.

"BLAINE! This is not going away! We are having this talk, like it or not!"

But he was already nearing his bathroom as he heard her voice from behind him. Blaine knew the problem was not going away – that was a lesson he had already learned, painfully – but he also knew he could delay it. That was all he seemed to have the power to do recently. Everything in his life had become about delaying the inevitable.

Once in the bathroom, he glanced over to the mirror. Looking at his reflection all he felt was anger. Why me. This is not fair. I don't deserve this. I just want to be like everyone else – WHY am I not like everyone else? He immediately then turned on the shower with the knob cranked as far to 'hot' as it would go. The fog on the mirror was a welcome friend to him as it blocked his haunting reflection. The last thing Blaine wanted to see right now was himself.

Still, after the mirror had been completely fogged out, he did not climb into the inviting shower. Blaine felt so overwhelmed that all he could manage to do for the moment was collapse onto the toilet seat. The noise of the running water drown out the noise he knew was coming from his nose and mouth, and paired with the mirror Blaine almost felt in that moment he didn't exist. He could not see or hear himself at all. It was, strangely, a comfort.

Eventually, he stepped off the toilet, shed his clothes, and slowly stepped into the hot shower. As he did, he felt everything start to slowly crumble. The water eroded the remaining bits of the wall he had built up around himself. He curled up on the shower floor and just let the water beat down on his side as he began to cry. There was no restraint left in these tears as they freely poured down his face like the water from the shower.

He was not ready to face his mother. He was not ready to go back to school. He was not ready to even get off the floor. Like the water from the shower nozzle, the tears seemed to be endless. One crushing defeat after enough had been piling up on the boy and it was getting far too heavy a load to handle. The thought of his mother perhaps knowing his secret was by far the heaviest thought on his mind. If she knows, what will she do? How could she ever love me again? Will she kick me out of the house? Oh god, I might not have a mother after today – or a home.

"I just want it all to end." Blaine whispered under his breath. He was drown out by the noise of the water.

For one, curious moment Blaine toyed with the thought that – perhaps – his mother would be accepting. It was a very fleeting moment. Like a match in the dark it fizzled out quickly.

"How could anyone love me? I don't even love myself. I don't deserve to be loved. Not when I'm...I'm..." he continued to whisper into the ground.

He let out a huge sob. It was a word he never said, never wrote, never thought. The forbidden word. Blaine thought that perhaps by not even letting himself think the word it would somehow not be true. Curling his limp hand into a tight fist, he smashed the side of the shower. It felt good. He let himself wail his fist against the wall over and over until it felt numb.

"Gay."

He could not hold the word back any longer. Endless nights of endless prayers had not changed anything. Blaine finally had to accept the fact: he was never going to change. Nothing on the face of the earth could change him. The feelings were never going away.

All the noise he had been making in the shower had not gone un-noticed. A knock at the door and a frail "Blaine? What is going on?" from his mother send a cold shock down Blaine's body.

"She never sees me. She never hears me. Why now..." he moaned, before adding in a much louder tone "I'll be out in a minute!"

Until the first jet of cool water poured down onto his skin Blaine had not noticed just how long he had actually been in the shower. He slowly crawled up off the ground and let the cool water pour over his face for a long minute to mask anything else it showed. His time was up and he had delayed as long as he could. It was time to face his mother.

The next fifteen minutes were a blur. Blaine didn't remember getting out of the shower, getting dressed, or finding his way back upstairs to the living room. Somehow though he was sitting on the sofa next to his mother. They sat in silence, neither of them daring to make the first move. Until she made clear exactly what she knew and exactly what her questions meant, Blaine was not going to say a thing.

The silence in the room starting to tense up and Blaine felt like it was strangling him. His heart was racing and he felt little drops of sweat dripping down his back. It was as if he had been stuck in a cold, dark interrogation cell with a bright light beaming down on his face. Franticly he glanced around the room, looking for some kind of an out. All he saw however was a small piece of folded paper in his mother's hands. That was all it took for his mind to set ablaze as it thought up all the different possibilities for what was concealed on that page.

"Honey, you have to tell me about the locker at some point."

The silence had been broken. He could feel himself breathe slightly easier, but he still had to respond. His answer would have to be something that would please his mother and halt all further questions from being asked. No good would come of this conversation being drawn out.

"I don't know who wrote the word, mother. I changed to that locker recently so it must have just been bad luck, like someone just picked a locker at random. Maybe it was meant to just deface the school in general. People do that all the time. It's nothing new. Just bad luck. Anyways, it was just a word. A single, meaningless word."

Blaine was surprised at how easily and fluently the lie just poured out of his mouth as he opened it to speak. Even for him this was a good one. The last part was hard though. As he said the word "meaningless" he could feel his heart break a little. If only she knew just how much it really meant.

"But it wasn't just a single word."

Blaine, who had been looking at his feet the entire time, finally made eye contact. He looked completely shocked. There had in fact been another word above the spray painted 'FAG' on his locker. A much worse and much more painful word. But how had she known?

"Don't try and deny it. I know you are just going to deny it. Someone e-mailed me a picture of it."

She slowly unfolded the paper she had clutched in her hand. On it was Blaine's locker. Both words in the putrid yellow painted on in giant letters. 'DIE FAG'.

"M-mom. It's just...I...I mean..."

This time nothing flowed out of his mouth. He was at a loss for words. No lie was going to cover up the truth now, not with that picture in her hands. It was amazing how much one piece of paper could change everything.

Blaine looked up at his mother again. This time she did not looked concerned, panicked or angry. The only emotion on her face now was a deep, painful sadness. He didn't know what it was about that face, but something clicked inside him because of it. In one quick move he fell into her lap and started to cry. He didn't care about walls or masks or fake smiles any longer. Now that he had let one go, all the rest had to follow.

"Dear...why would someone..." his mother started to say, rubbing his back in support.

"Because it's true" he blurted out, not quite sure what gave him the strength to do so.

"W-what?" she started to say, lifting her hand of his back. "I-I mean, perhaps you should eat something. Yes, it has been a long day I suppose. You should eat something, dear."

This was the last re-action Blaine had expected. He had just, more or less, outed himself. He was expecting any number of things to happen, but not this. She was obviously pretending that she had not heard. However, the way she talked, rushed and very scattered, showed that she had heard him loud and clear.

"Mom, did you hear what I said?"

"Perhaps some chicken? I could make rice too. What about corn?"

"Mom...did you..."

"No, no. Your father hates corn. I will make yams."

She was now off the couch and fleeing to the kitchen. Blaine was left alone on the sofa, sitting where his mother was only moments ago. It had taken him so much courage – courage that he frankly didn't know existed – to say those three words to his mother. Granted, they were not "the" three words, but the effect was still the same. Rage started to build up inside him and all at once consumed and replaced all the fear.

"Mother! Are you even listening to me?"

"Hmm? What was that dear? Yes, I think I will make yams."

"I don't care about the fucking yams!"

Blaine was now standing and red in the face. He had taken enough of this already. For years they had gone through their lives without actually seeing or actually hearing each other. Now it was time for all that to change. He was not going to be ignored – not today.

"Blaine! That kind of language will not be tolerated in this house! Now go wash up fo-..."

"MOM I'M GAY!"

A loud clank filled the room as the pot full of rice smashed against the floor. This was more the reaction Blaine had been thinking of.

"Oh god, look at what I've done" she said, collapsing to the floor and violently grabbing at the rice.

"Mom...it's ok...it's just rice...don't..." Blaine started to say, bending over to help his mother.

"NO! IT'S NOT OK. IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OK" she snapped, throwing the pot she had picked up across the room and smashing into the fridge. "Oh god, oh lord...oh...I'm s-sorry, Blaine. I just...I..."

But it was too late. He wanted so badly to hear the words that he had been dreaming about. "It's going to be ok". If she would just say those words, maybe things could be better. The 'not' was like a grenade that exploded all over these hopes. The rage that was helping keep him together was starting to fade and Blaine could feel the familiar tears forming once more. He turned around and ran down the stairs to his room.

He didn't want to run to his room, though. It was just another reminder that he lived in a house he could never call home. It did not feel like escaping to him, more like running back to a prison cell. Inside his room every footstep from above sounded like a gunshot. It was not a peaceful place at all. Still, he had nowhere else to go. At least he had a door between him and his mother now.

It took a few minutes longer than Blaine had expected, but sure enough the loud footsteps made their way closer to his door. Without the rage to fuel his speech, Blaine was not sure he was ready to talk to her just yet. The footsteps stopped in front of his door, but there was no knock. It just fell silent like on the sofa from before.

"Just...please...leave me alone..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm sorry I didn't...listen..."

"Then listen to me now and just leave."

"Blaine, I think...I think I always knew you were...different..."

The word 'different' sent a horrible tingle down his spine. It was not a word he wanted to hear, although it was one he had often used himself. All those nights he had prayed to be 'normal'. But now he didn't feel that fear. It was gone. The rage from before was starting to build again and he was finding his voice.

"I'm gay, mother. Gay."

"B-but...how do you know for sure? I...I mean, lots of people...they go through phases..."

"Mom! I'm..."

"Y-yea, I get it! Ok, ok! If you think you are sure..."

"I know I am sure!"

"I...I still love you, dear...even if you are..."

Blaine's heart broke right then. He knew exactly what that sentence meant. His mother was never going to love him the way she used to. Everything was different – because he was different. All the kind smiles, the hugs, the praise and approval he had received from her over the years stated to fade away. They were replaced with the sounds of falling pots, the screams of his mother's voice and the sadness in her face. Blaine was making these changes himself, though. It was another wall he was putting up. He was preparing himself for a life without his mother.

"And dear, you are not...w-well...involved with a boy are you?"

He had almost forgotten she was still at the door. The question was almost laughable. If she only knew just how much he hated himself for these feelings. There was no way he was ready to act on them, let alone accept them.

"No, mother."

"Because..." she stated to say, stopping mid breath. She seemed hesitant to say the next part, but after a few seconds she carried on in a quieter tone. "If a man lies with a male as he lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. And Blaine...I'm just so scared t-that...you will fall off the path and...and...and get AIDS. I don't want you to...die..."

He was sure that she had been practicing this speech already. I made him so angry that she obviously had known he was gay and never talked to him about it. He had been carrying this secret around like a heavy weight for all these years...and she knew the whole time.

"I won't, mother" Blaine replied, not knowing what else to say to her.

"And you haven't told anyone have you? I don't think your Grandma or Aunt Martha would be able to...handle...such a shock. Perhaps it is best if you don't tell anyone else...and..." she stopped again, once more hesitant to carry on. "...and maybe we should not tell your father. Yet."

"Please leave now" Blaine said, cold and emotionless.

"But you're not going to tell anyone else, right? And perhaps it would be best if we don't talk about this again for...awhile. And honey, I still love you. Please know that I still love you. I just don't want life to be difficult. I mean your life. And hon-..."

"Please leave. Now."

"Ok...just know I love you..."

As he listened to her footsteps sound off into the distance, he knew that was the last talk they were going to have on the subject for a very long time. They were masters at ignoring the elephant in the room by now and it was obvious Blaine got his skill of hiding behind fake smiles from his mother. Things would never be the same, that was for sure, but things would never really change that much either.

Looking at his alarm clock, Blaine was shocked to see it was only 6:44. Soon his father would be home. This meant they would all sit around a table, eat their chicken and various side dishes, and talk about school, work and the weather. Nothing would appear to be different. The day would carry on as if the past hour had never happened.

Opening the drawer beneath his alarm clock, Blaine pulled out a small black thumbtack. Rubbing his thumb over the familiar plastic, he knew what he was going to have to do to make it through dinner. After tapping it with his index finger to make sure it was still sharp, he put it in his pocket and walked up the stairs to face dinner and his parents.

"Blaine, dear, I settled on yams and corn. It will be ready very soon!"

"Ok, I will just go wash up."

And just like that, he was back into the normal routine. Even though every time he closed his eyes he saw the words 'DIE FAG' and heard his mother's voice telling him it wasn't going to be ok, Blaine was still able to hide it all behind a smile and carry on like nothing had happened.

Five minutes later, he was sitting down at the dinner table eating and discussing his day.

"So Blaine, what did you do at school today?"

"Nothing much, father. Just another day I guess."

"And how was work, dear? Did you have any meeting today?"

"Nope, no meetings today. And how was your day Mary, anything interesting happen?"

"Can't say it did, but I did find this one good recipe today. I am dying to try it out."

The entire time the mindless banter carried on, Blaine had the small black thumbtack in his left hand. Every time he would feel himself breaking apart, a quick jab into his leg sent a jolt of pain through his body. It was a familiar pain, however. Blaine did not even seem affected by it. Actually, it almost seemed to help strengthen his plastic smile as he nodded while his parents talked. No matter what appeared to be happening on the outside however, he was feeling every last prick on the inside.

"Mother, may I please be excused from the table?"

"Yes you may, dear. Don't forget to put your things in the dishwasher first!"

Blaine put the thumbtack back into his pocket, stood up, and calmly exited the dining room. After putting away his dishes, he slowly walked down the stairs back to his room. The second he shut the door however, he let himself break down once more.

Within minutes of entering his room he was now on the floor letting out deep, painful sobs. He was careful not to make too much noise, but it was getting harder to control.

People at my school want me dead, my mother does not love me anymore and God thinks I am an abomination. Why did I have to be gay? What did I ever do to deserve this? I just want to be like everyone else. I just want a normal life

Opening the bedside table, he put back the thumbtack and took out a small black diary. This day had been one of the worst of his entire life. Unless he took some of the stress from the day and wrote it into his diary, he might do something he would regret. Writing always seemed to help, like every bit of sadness he captured on paper was one less bit inside him.

Dear Diary,

Today I lost my mother.

A/N: I hope I did justice to this chapter. It took me ages to write and I didn't do a proper edit of it. As always, reviews are my personal drug. I will sell my body parts off for reviews. But I have no IDEA what I am doing for the next Kurt chapter and it may take me awhile to get it up. *cough* ...but reviews help me write faster ;)