(A/N: Hello...long time no update. Thank you to those who did review last time or followed! I can't believe glee is going on a three week hiatus, it's especially annoying because I never know about them until the promo before the last episode and I'm always like "WHAT? 3 WEEKS?!" Oh well, it will all be worth it for Come What May...)
Blaine found himself grinning ear to ear as he drove home. Maroon 5 was blasting from his car speakers and he had just had one of the best nights of his life at Kurt's house. Dinner had been delicious, but even if the food had sucked, Blaine wouldn't have minded at all. Kurt's dad was amazing, and his stepmom too. They were both so kind and welcoming, Burt a little more gruff than Carole, but still, he had a subtle caring nature about him that Blaine had always wished his own father could have possessed. Kurt's stepbrother, Finn, was a cool guy too, protective of Kurt, but like the rest of his family, a genuinely nice person. The laughs came easy and they never made Blaine feel awkward or out of place. While Burt did occasionally glare at him or offer suspicious sounding comments, Blaine found that his only encouraged him further of what a great man Burt was, to be so protective and loving of his very gay son.
As Blaine turned left onto his street, his smile slowly started to fade and as the radio station crackled into a commercial, he clicked it off. He numbly felt his foot ease slightly from the gas pedal and his car slowed down. His hands clenched on the steering wheel tempted to jerk into a U-turn and drive straight back to Kurt's, or even to Dalton. He hated his home, because it had never been one. Dalton was his home, and he would give anything to be able to drive their now, go to his dorm and spend the night telling Wes and David all about Kurt and his amazing family. Thinking about his warm and safe dorm back at Dalton, lulled Blaine into a wishful, calmed state and he hardly noticed where he was driving until he heard the car engine turn off. He was sitting in his driveway now, and he had the strange feeling as though he'd been sitting there a while. He took a deep breath, a slight tremor rippling through him as he let it out. His legs felt like they were made of lead and it took several more breaths to move them. When he finally got out of his car, he noticed that there was another car parked in front of his. It wasn't his father's or a company car and Blaine momentarily forgot his anxiety as he tried to think of who in the world could be visiting his father at this time of night. He eventually just shrugged and went to the trunk of his own car to retrieve the backpack he'd never gotten to take home. He grabbed a couple of his textbooks as well before hurrying to the door and letting himself in.
"Blaine, where have you been?" Richard's voice came from the living room, surprisingly calm.
Blaine turned to speak, "I-" he stopped short, noticing another man there with his father, sitting on the couch, "—who's this?" alarmed, his usually perfect etiquette was forgotten. His father's calm gaze morphed into a glare and he stood up. Blaine took a subconscious step back as he noticed his father's hand clench at his side.
"This is Dr. Murrow, he's a therapist specializing in cases like yours." Richard said, his voice laced with annoyance. He turned to the man, "I apologize Dr. Murrow for my son's appalling manners. I had no idea that his sickness would spread to even the simplest branches of human etiquette."
"C-cases like mine?" Blaine stuttered, his stomach suddenly turning painfully. His father cast him another irritated look.
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Blaine swallowed nervously and quickly looked away. No, he didn't need it spelled out for him.
"It's quite alright, Richard." Dr. Murrow said, standing up to meet the other occupants of the room. Blaine surveyed the man. He was tall, almost as tall as his father. He was perhaps mid-thirties, with grey eyes and light blonde hair. He was lanky and his hands looked oddly big compared to the rest of his body. The man looked at Blaine in appraisal, his eyes starting at his feet, going up until they met his eyes. Blaine looked away quickly. There was something extremely off about this man.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Blaine." he said politely.
"You as well…sir." Blaine murmured, eyes still downcast. While studying the rug at his feet, his missed the greeting hand the doctor had held out for him.
"For God's sake Blaine, can't you manage to keep your head upright?!" he felt a rough hand beneath his chin, forcing his head up straight to face Dr. Murrow. He flinched as his father released him.
"I'm sorry, sir." he said, trying to speak clearly. It was a struggle to keep his gaze steadily on the men around him and not on the expensive rug beneath their feet. He finally reached forward and shook the doctor's hand.
"Why don't you show me to your room." Dr. Murrow said, smiling down at Blaine.
"Wha-" Blaine wanted to ask what for, but his father's glare shut him up, "Of course, sir." he said instead, leading the way upstairs to his bedroom.
He could hear the man's soft footsteps behind him, could see him looking around their upstairs corridor with curiosity, inspecting the austere family photographs and old portraits of his mother, out of the corner of his eye. He quietly cleared his throat when they reached his room at the end of the hallway. He opened the door and gestured inside once the man was looking at him again.
"Ah, thank you, Blaine." the man nodded at him warmly before walking inside. Blaine didn't buy into the smiling expression. He'd met enough of his father's…friends, to know that warmth was a completely foreign entity to them. He followed Dr. Murrow in, quickly depositing his school things next to his desk by the wall.
"Not much of a decorator I see." Dr. Murrow observed, walking around Blaine's room, taking note of the empty walls and the gray bedding. Blaine's room hadn't always been so desolate, but the last time he had tried to personalize it, with a Vogue poster no less, his father had ripped it down, infuriated. It was one of the first times Blaine could remember being absolutely terrified of what his father would do to him.
"I just moved back, I was boarding at Dalton." Blaine said instead, "I haven't had the time to decorate yet."
"Understandable." Dr. Murrow nodded. He walked over to Blaine's desk and gestured towards the chair, "May I?" he asked.
"Of course." Blaine nodded, even though all he wanted was for him to leave. Dr. Murrow gestured to Blaine's bed and Blaine reluctantly crossed to the room to sit across from him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Blaine rubbed his hands on his knees nervously, the very presence of Dr. Murrow creeped him out.
"My…" he paused as he saw the doctor rifling through the top drawer in his desk. Blaine's suddenly speeding heart leapt into his throat as he saw Dr. Murrow's hands reach for the second drawer, where a box of photographs of him and Kurt were stored, he tried to stutter out a distraction, "My father says—he says that you specialize in cases like mine!" he doesn't mean for it to come out with such volume, but the doctor stops what he's doing and turns to face Blaine, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Yes…?" he says after a while, clearly having expected Blaine to add more to his exclamation.
"Well I…" Blaine tried not to stare at the second drawer of his desk, "I…" his eyes flickered back to the doctor who had crossed his arms and was now studying Blaine very seriously. Blaine closed his eyes, trying to make the panic ebb away, to make his heart slow down. Why was he panicking in the first place? This wasn't his father, he was just…a doctor, specializing…in cases like his, "He meant gay cases. Didn't he?" Blaine was finally able to say, opening his eyes to stare directly at the doctor, who by now had forgotten all about Blaine's second drawer in his desk.
"I do help those struggling with homosexuality, yes." Dr. Murrow nodded, leaning forward, "I understand that it is a troubling actualization to suffer."
"But I'm not struggling." Blaine blurted out and at the Doctor's patronizingly, sympathetic expression, he felt his old anger and confidence rising in him as his panic seemed to fade instantly, "I know that I'm gay. I know for sure that I'm gay, have been and always will be. What's more is that I'm fine with it. I'm not struggling with anything." Blaine hissed. It was a point that he seemed to always be making, though it never stuck with those he had to make it to.
"Many in your situation would want to believe such a thing." Blaine jumped as he felt the doctor's hand land on his knee. Just as quickly as it has come, his anger and confidence fled and he was left with a desperately beating, scared heart.
"W-what are you doing?" Blaine asked quietly as the hand began to rub circles on his knee. He yelped as Dr, Murrow's hand suddenly moved much further up his leg, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he cried as he scrambled backwards on his bed, his back hitting the headboard hard in his hurry to get away.
"Blaine you need to calm down." Murrow's voice came out calm but firm and stood immediately, advancing on Blaine with a cross expression on his face, "If you really are as gay as you say you are, you should be fine with me touching you. I am a male, am I not?" Blaine's eyes widened in horror and before he could stop himself, he was yelling at the man.
"Fuck you!" he heard himself as though through a tunnel, "Don't you fucking touch me, you fucking creep!" he tried to get up so he could leave the room, but Murrow had anticipated this and easily pinned him back down, one hand pressed his chest down with bruising force while the other held his wrist together above his head with equally strong pressure. Blaine instantly struggled, yelling at him to get off of him.
"I'm not releasing you until you calm down, Blaine!" Dr. Murrow said, his tone a strained calm. Blaine felt the panic rising in his chest and he tried to listen to the doctor's words, but all he could think was that he wanted free now.
"Please…" he tried begging, the word falling quietly from his lips as tried his hardest to stop struggling. The hand on his chest felt so heavy, as though his lungs were being crushed beneath it.
" Are you calm, Blaine?"
He shut his eyes desperately, willing himself to calm down, repeating over and over again in his head to just calm down. After a moment he nodded shakily.
"I'm calm." he said earnestly, even though he was everything but. He felt the pressure on his chest and wrists fade away and he sprung from the bed as fast as he could, leaping to the other side, making sure that the bed was no between himself and Dr. Murrow. Dr. Murrow frowned.
"I thought you said you were calm Blaine." he said admonishingly. Blaine grabbed the closest bulky item that he could reach, which happened to be his thick History of the America's textbook.
"I…" his throat was so dry, "I think you should leave."
"Blaine-" the doctor took a step towards Blaine and Blaine panicked, flinched backwards as he chucked his book at the man.
"Get out!" he shouted, wildly grabbing for his other textbook, which was IB Pre-calculus. They were interrupted by the door banging open and Blaine froze at the sight of his father in the doorway.
"What the hell is going on in here?!" he snapped, eyes locking on the book in Blaine's hand, which he was clearly planning on throwing, "Blaine, put the damn book down!" Immediately Blaine dropped the volume, taking several steps backwards until his back hit the wall.
"It seems I was wrong about your son Mr. Anderson." Dr. Murrow was the first to venture into the silence, "I had only planned on seeing him once a month. I think weekly appointments will be necessary."
"I will." Richard said, his voice tight as his eyes remained locked on his son, "I'll see you out." they left then and Blaine collapsed against the wall he'd been pressed to. This couldn't be happening. His father couldn't be this twisted, he must not know what was going on…that had to be it. Blaine would tell him. He would—
"Your appointments will be every Monday after school."
Blaine looked up startled at his father's presence. He quickly stood up, rushing towards his father, "Dad, you c-can't make me go!" he said desperately, "He—he tried to—to touch me-"
"Every Monday after school, Blaine." his father said dismissively, "This isn't up for debate." he shut the door before Blaine could respond, leaving Blaine alone, not able to stop the shaking or the spinning as he numbly reached for the second drawer in his desk.
(A/N: Thanks for reading!)