Blaine collapsed on his bed as soon as he got there. God this sucked. He should confess. No, he couldn't confess, he was already in enough trouble today. Maybe he should confess to part-

His thoughts stilled at the knock at the door. "Come in..." he called, trying to sound casual.

Gabriel Anderson came in slowly, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the door, looking at the boy he loved. He was still just a boy, he told himself. Mostly.

"Blaine... I wanted to come back and talk to you because-"

"I lied, Dad."

The words pierced through the air so fast that neither of them breathed for a couple seconds. Blaine regretted blurting them out immediately on the one hand and felt a twinge of relief on the other. He swallowed, hard, watching his father.

Nodding slightly, Mr. Anderson slowly moved over to the chair by Blaine's bed, putting his schoolbag on the floor. Biting his lip, Mr. Anderson sat and waited. Blaine sat up in bed, studying his stockinged feet. But it seemed like Blaine had lost the power to speak. All he could think of was that he was going to be in trouble and that his dad would be disappointed, more disappointed than he already was, and God why wasn't he as perfect as his brother, and...

"Blaine. Whatever it is. ...We'll deal with it." Mr. Anderson said, quiet. This was his kid beating himself up. He just needed to get it out and be done with it.

Blaine looked up at his Dad, sort of relieved at the gentle tone, but skeptical. He took a breath. "I didn't go to the movies last night. I went to a... party with some of Kurt's friends."

Mr. Anderson nodded. Blaine sort of didn't know what to make of that and looked at him, quizzically. His dad leaned forward and sighed. "Blaine, why didn't you just say you were going to a party. There was no need to lie about that-"

"Because-" Blaine looked away. "Because I knew Rachel's parents were out of town and... I figured you would ask to speak to them first." Blaine frowned, thinking of how his father must hate him right now. If he was his son he'd hate him. This was the worst thing he'd done in a long while.

"I see... Blaine, what happened at the party?"

Blaine was so confused by how calm his father seemed. He had played a lot of scenarios in his mind when he was contemplating coming clean, but his father hadn't been calm in any of them. He almost wished he'd start yelling at him. This tension was killing him.

"This guy... broke into her dads' liquor cabinet. And people started drinking stuff, and... Um. I was drinking."

Mr. Anderson appeared almost disinterested. "What did you drink?"

Blaine sniffled back a tear. It was just mortifying to admit. "I... don't remember."

Mr. Anderson raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond otherwise.

"I think- I drank a beer and... like a rum and coke or something. God I don't even know." He covered the side of his face with one of his hands.

"Well... you don't have... a lot of experience with that... I'm guessing. But it's not a great idea to mix different alcohol in one night like that. I gotta bet you felt pretty bad this morning."

Blaine nodded, embarrassed. "I threw up at Kurt's house."

"So... not sick on pizza, huh?"

"...No."

"Must have made shoveling the sidewalk unpleasant."

Blaine chuckled, in spite of himself. He actually held his Dad's gaze for a bit. "I can't even begin to explain how much."

Mr. Anderson smiled, but then swallowed the smile in an attempt to put on a Dad Face. He was quiet, thoughtful. Blaine couldn't figure out why he wasn't reaming him out yet. It made the whole thing that much more uncomfortable.

"So... let's see. When you called me last night. You weren't at Breadstix."

God he's going to lay out every little thing.

"...No sir."

"No crazy people in the parking lot."

Blaine had forgotten all about that. God he was an idiot. "No Dad."

"And you had never planned to go to the movies."

"Well, we had talked about it before Kurt heard about the party... but, no."

Mr. Anderson paused. "Did you ask the Hummels if you could stay over?"

Blaine hadn't expected that question. "Uh. Not... exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Well Kurt had always said his dad was cool with people staying over. So I knew it- would be okay." Wait, was his dad going to be mad about that? "It was just that when everyone started drinking it seemed like people were going to be staying late, and..."

"You knew you couldn't show up on my doorstep for curfew if you were going to be drunk." Mr. Anderson supplied, his voice hardening. His patience had been admirable up to this point, but there was a limit.

Blaine looked at his dad, then away, and nodded, miserable.

"And this morning, when you texted me. I'm guessing there was no traffic on White Street?"

Okay now that was mortifying. With all this, his dad was actually going to make a deal out of that one little white lie? Blaine sighed. It wasn't even worth trying to cover anything up anymore.

"No Dad. I was running late. So I kinda made that up too." Blaine closed his eyes. He coudn't even remember ever being in this much trouble before. And he totally deserved it.

"Sounds like you've been carrying around a lot of guilt, son."

Blaine's face scrunched and he shrugged at that. Trying to keep it together.

"I guess I'm... in trouble."

He guessed? Mr. Anderson didn't know whether to laugh or hit the roof. But he held it in.

"Do you think you deserve to be?"

Blaine hesitated and nodded. "Yes sir."