Enjoy. Lots of scary and happy things are coming soon for Kurt and Blaine.
Mia opened the front door and grabbed Blaine's hand. Her wide, happy smile was like a knife through his heart.
"This is my house," she said and gestured widely at the huge open space in front of them.
It was an enormous house in an enormous gated neighborhood about 20 minutes from McKinley high school. It was the house of an overpaid politician, that was apparent to Blaine immediately.
"It's really nice," Blaine pulled his hand out of Mia's and walked further into the living room. He was looking all around; his eyes darting from the high ceiling to the chandelier to the row of pictures lining the mantel. He walked towards the photographs lining the mantel, and Mia followed closely behind him.
"Oh god, don't look at those," she groaned, but Blaine had already picked up a framed picture of a little girl with piggy tales and braces.
"Is this you?" Blaine asked with a laugh. It really was a terribly unfortunate school photo.
"Don't laugh," Mia scolded. She grabbed the photo out of Blaine's hands and set it back on the mantel, face down. She wrapped her arms around Blaine's waist and looked up into his eyes, "Do you want to see my room?" she whispered with a squeeze.
Blaine swallowed and looked around, unsure of what to say or what to do to get out of this situation.
"Where are your parents?" Blaine asked.
"They won't be home for a few hours," Mia said as she grabbed Blaine's hand and started walking him towards the stairs, "Come one."
Blaine followed reluctantly. He'd only come here to look in on Mr. Murphy; to better understand what was going on with his political ambitions and plans. He didn't know how to pass a few hours with Mia. He didn't know how to make it out of this unharmed.
The house was truly phenomenal. Every surface was completely spotless. Every pattern and color was repeated somewhere else in perfect harmony. It was straight from a magazine; from the mind of some famous designer. It was almost scary in it's perfection. Blaine took every step with caution; afraid he might bump into something or move something from its place. He felt as if one false move would bring the whole house crashing around him, and really, this thought wasn't too far from his actual predicament. He had gotten himself too far into this unintentional relationship with Mia. He was meeting her parents! You didn't go that far until you were serious, and Blaine was far from serious.
At the top of the staircase and down a white hallway there stood one lone door. Mia opened it and walked into the room, pulling Blaine right behind her.
"This is my room!" Mia let go of Blaine's hand and spun around in a circle before jumping onto her bed.
The room was the very essence of Mia, and Blaine couldn't help from smile as he looked around. Blaine could just imagine the pains this room must cause Mia's parents. In complete contrast to the white house, Mia's room was painted a deep purple, almost black. One whole wall was covered in papers and pictures. Blaine was instantly drawn to that wall. He could see magazine cut outs, and newspaper articles, and photos, and maps, and lyrics. That wall held everything Mia had ever been drawn to, and things that pleased her, and things that angered her. Blaine started to read an article posted on the wall as if by fate. The piece of paper had been torn out of the local magazine, not carefully cut, and Mia had drawn a large red X across the title, "Candidate Murphy's Positions." Blaine skimmed through the article, and as he read more and more it was as if Mia's anger fell off the page and into him. The red X blurred into the angry, judgmental words, and Mr. Murphy's words ran through Blaine's head like an angry chant: "Homosexuality is a disease" "Marriage equality is un-American" "We must eradicate this way of life from our nation."
The words brought on a torment of memories; memories that Blaine had spent days and weeks and months suppressing. Mr. Murphy's words morphed until they were the words of Blaine's own father; hot and heavy and bitter. They cut through Blaine anew and reopened wounds he'd only just managed to staunch. Blaine could feel the sting of his father's hand across his brow. He could feel hot, thick blood trickling into his eyes; painting the whole world an angry shade of red.
"My dad's like this, too" Blaine whispered. He tore his eyes away from the wall and sat next to Mia on her bed.
Mia rolled onto her stomach facing Blaine, "People don't get it, you know? What law can we put on love?"
"None," Blaine whispered. He couldn't find his voice. It was as if his father truly was in the room with him now, and Blaine didn't dare speak up for fear he would hear.
"No," Mia said, "No. There is a law of love, but it's not the law of nations or politicians. It's the law of lovers. People who've forgotten how to love are the ones making the laws."
Blaine stared at Mia. Mia with her beautiful body, and beautiful face, and even more beautiful heart. A girl Blaine would have really liked to be friends with under different circumstances.
"You're really special, Mia."
She shook her head, "I'm not special for believing what I do. It's called being a good human being."
Blaine smiled, and he wished so badly that he could agree with her, but he couldn't. He had seen a lot more of the world than Mia had. He'd seen a lot more hate and anger and violence. Blaine had felt the consequences of being himself. And Blaine knew he was a human being; a living, breathing, moving creature with feelings and a heart and a soul. But so was his father, right? So was Mr. Murphy?
"Stop looking so sad. The world's screwed up, but it's all we've got," Mia reached across the bed and grabbed Blaine's hand. Her smile was so hopefully, so open. It was like another knife through Blaine's heart.
Blaine squeezed back and soon Mia was right next to him; touching him. Mia's lips were on his neck and then his cheeks, and the closer they came to his mouth the more Blaine wanted to pull away. And then they were on his mouth and he felt nothing but skin on skin and breathe to breathe and there was no pleasure in it. And Blaine could feel Mia's hands in his hair, and Mia's knee pressed against his leg. And if he shut his eyes he could pretend it was Kurt and then he did feel. Blaine's hand moved on their own accord. They tangled in Mia's long hair, but that felt wrong, so they moved to her waist, but it was too thin, so they moved to cup her cheek which was smooth and soft.
The phone rang and Mia and Blaine jumped away from each other.
Mia's breathing was uneven as she slid of the bed and walked down the hallway, "I'll be back in a minute!" she yelled.
Her voice echoed through the hallway and Blaine could still feel her on his skin, and it felt so wrong to him. Blaine sat up off the bed and paced the room for a moment before he had an idea. He walked slowly down the hallway until he could hear Mia's voice echoing gently up the stairs.
"Yeah, mom, Blaine's here with me. No! We're not doing anything. We're just waiting for you and dad to get home...No, dad promised. He promised he would be here for dinner!"
As Mia's voice rose, Blaine moved down the opposite hallway and towards a series of doors.
Blaine opened the first door cautiously, but the room was completely empty. Like the rest of the house, everything was light and perfect. Blaine cracked the door behind him so that he could hear Mia's voice faintly, and then he continued around the room. It was obviously the master bedroom where Mia's parents slept, but it was void of any personal touch with the exception of the romance novel resting on one of the matching nightstands.
Blaine could still hear Mia's voice carrying lightly through the house. He walked deeper into the room. Blaine opened drawers and looked under the bed, but he could find nothing even remotely interesting. Apparently Mr. Murphy didn't keep anything personal in his bedroom. But Blaine needed personal.
Blaine stuck his head into the hallway.
"I'm just frustrated because he does this all the time...I know, mom."
Blaine paused in the doorway listening to Mia. A part of him wanted to go to her; like a magnet he was drawn to her pain because it was his own pain. But the other part of Blaine, the larger part, was selfish. He wanted to be done with this house; with this job. He wanted Kurt and love and life, and to obtain that he needed to be done with this. So he walked deeper into the house until Mia's voice faded and he stood alone in a home office.
Unlike the bedroom, the office was clearly well used. It was still organized and flawless like the rest of the house, but it was filled with cabinets and files and a new computer. Blaine went to the computer straight away but it was password protected, and Blaine had never been good with computers. Blaine was rummaging through the bookshelf when Mia came in.
"Looking for something?" she asked from the doorway.
Blaine jumped so quickly that he smacked his head on the top shelf.
"Wow," Mia walked across the room and guided Blaine into the computer chair where he sat rubbing his head, "I didn't mean to frightening you."
Blaine just went on rubbing his head, unsure of how to explain himself.
"None of these books are very good. You should look at my mom's library. It's in her office. Next door over," Mia offered softly. Her voice never even hinted that she suspected Blaine of spying or being rude.
"Thanks. What did your mom say on the phone?" Blaine asked even though he had heard everything.
Mia rolled her eyes at the ceiling and rose out of her squat on the floor. She grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him out of his chair, "Dad won't be home for dinner, so mom's calling in Chinese takeout."
Mia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Mia looked sad. Her whole face looked tired and dark; the brown in her eyes almost black, and the gleam was gone. Blaine had seen Mia perform and he had seen her talk and laugh, and she always looked so alive, so vibrant. It truly was scary to see some one's happiness drained away, especially when they were trying to hide their melancholy.
"Hey," Blaine squeezed Mia's hand, "don't stress out about it, okay? You are not defined by your parents, and their decisions."
Mia wiped the gathering salt water from her eyes, "I know."
Blaine and Mia spent the next hour in Mia's room talking. They held hands and sometimes Mia would lean in and kiss Blaine on the lips, but nothing went further than that, and Blaine was very thankful.
Mia really needed to talk, and talk she did. But Blaine honestly didn't mind listening. He remembered struggling with a lot of the same things when he was a teenager, and he just wished there had been someone, anyone there to talk to him. So Mia talked, and Blaine listened and offered advice whenever applicable, and when they heard Mia's mother open the front door, they smiled and walked down stairs hand in hand.
The food was fantastic, and the conversation was nice, and Blaine made up some excuse to leave so that he couldn't be corralled into staying to watch a movie, and Mia kissed him on the doorstep, and he cried as he drove home.
Blaine really hated crying. Not really because it shows weakness, he was okay with admitting that he was weak, but more because it was an obvious likeness to his father. That was one thing about his dad that Blaine could look back on fondly, at least part of it. Blaine's father was the crying type, and not because he was sad, but more because he felt the emotions of other. A sad movie would make him cry, and hold his wife's hand as she cried with him. When Blaine was born he cried. When Blaine fell off the swing set in first grade and ended up in the hospital he cried.
He hadn't cried when Blaine had been outed. He had yelled, and even when the tears streamed down Blaine's face in a hot flood, Mr. Anderson still wouldn't crack. His face remained cold, ashamed, even repulsed.
How does someone go from your hero to your enemy in one day?
As Blaine sunk into his bed that night, his wet hair creating a cold halo around his mind, he let all thoughts of his father and Mia and school and his job drift away to be replaced by sea blue eyes and pale skin. His dreams were filled with Kurt, and when he woke up the next day his mind was fuzzy with happy thoughts and joyous things, and the day didn't seem so dreary, and the sky didn't seem so dark.