Kurt wasn't sure how much time had passed before a woman appeared in the doorway. She was tall with wavy black hair and olive skin. Blaine, who's head rested on Kurt's shoulder, noticed her and sat upright. "Hi, Mom."

"Blaine..." She rushed over to Blaine. "Sweetie, are you okay? What happened?"

"...I'll explain later," he said. He stood up and anxiously looked to Kurt. "Mom, this is Kurt...my boyfriend."

Mary turned to see the boy next to her son. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson," he said, hand outstretched. She shook it and with a smile replied, "Same to you, Kurt." Blaine glanced between the two, trying to control the huge grin on his face. He had been waiting for this moment for seven months. He was glad that his father wasn't around for it; he surely would have killed it before Kurt could get a word out.

And to Mary, Kurt seemed kind enough. When she saw the way Blaine looked and smiled at him, there was no way she could ever doubt that they loved each other. Her husband may have different views, but as long as Blaine was happy, it was enough for her.

"I, uh...I have a broken wrist. We'll have to go to the hospital."

Mary nodded sadly. She hated that this was happening to her son again. "We'd better get going, then. I think it's time we caught up with each other. It was great meeting you, Kurt." She and Blaine walked out of the room, Blaine's hand brushing against Kurt's as he passed.

In the car, Blaine explained the entire story to his mother again. When he was done, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want to go back to Dalton?"

Blaine took a moment to think about it. "No," he said. "I miss Dalton, but I like it here. I like it a lot."

"Because of Kurt?"

Honesty is the best policy, right? "Yeah, mostly. And the glee club."

"How is that going?"

"It's great. I actually got a solo for Sectionals last week...it was a duet, actually, but still."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"It's okay, Mom."

"And your grades?"

"I have a 4.5 GPA."

"That's amazing, honey. I'm so proud of you." She looked over at Blaine with tear-filled eyes, and Blaine felt his eyes stinging with tears, too. I'm so proud of you. Five words. Five syllables. That was all it took. It was all he wanted to hear. He always pushed himself in everything he did, from grades to music, mainly because he just wanted his parents to actually notice him for a change. All he wanted to do was make them proud. And now he has.

Mary wiped her eyes. "So...about this Kurt boy..."

"Yes?"

"How long have you two been together?"

"Seven months."

"Really?" Her smile turned to a frown. "All seven months...I was barely even there. I hardly saw you. I'm so sorry, honey. I've been trying to talk to my boss to switch me to a different shift so maybe I can see you a bit more. I've missed you so much, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Please say you forgive me." She began to cry again.

"Of course I forgive you, Mom. Please don't cry." This only seemed to make her cry harder. She tried to concentrate on the road through her tears. "Thank you."

They pulled into the hospital's parking lot and found a space, but neither of them got out of the car. Mary wiped her eyes and they sat in silence. She was the one who spoke.

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

"Your boyfriend, Kurt. Do you love him?"

"Yes. Of course I do. I'm in love with him." He was hesitant to reply at first, but when he saw his mother's smile, he instantly brightened. "I'm glad you found someone," she said, and Blaine's heart swelled with joy. It was an amazing feeling to know that at least his mother accepted him.

"Now come on. Let's get a cast on that wrist of yours." They got out of the car, walked into the hospital, and checked in. While they were sitting in the waiting room, Blaine's other said, "There's something important I have to tell you."

There was no more putting it off. She couldn't make any more small talk to avoid it. It was time that he knew.

"Yeah?" Blaine replied.

Mary took a deep breath before answering. She worried about what her son's reaction would be. Would he hate her for it? "I left your father. I told him you and I are moving out."

"What? Why?"

"When your school called to tell us you were hurt, we got into an...argument."

"About me."

"It's not your fault, sweetie. Really. It...it was bound to happen sooner or later." She hated telling him this, and maybe it was too personal, but she couldn't take it back now.

"I know," Blaine sighed. If he was being completely honest, a part of him was glad. Ever since he came out to his father, he made him feel as if there was something wrong with him. Like he wasn't human. He knew that as long as his father was alive, he would never accept Blaine for who he was.

A memory flashed into Blaine's mind. It was about three years ago, and Blaine and his parents were sitting in their living room.

Mary and George sat on the couch, and Blaine across from them in a chair. His legs felt weak, like he couldn't stand up if he wanted to. His heart raced. He tried to calm himself before speaking.

"Mom, Dad...there's something I have to tell you."

"You know you can talk to us about anything, Blaine," His mother said.

"What is it?" His father asked. "Is it about school?"

"No, no, it's not that. School's fine."

"Then what is it? Spit it out, boy."

"I'm...I'm gay."

His parents' eyes widened. Mary drew in a sharp breath.

"Excuse me?" His father asked, eyebrows furrowed. His face was blank. Blaine couldn't tell if he was confused or angry or something else.

"I'm tired of hiding who I am from you. I love you both so much, and—"

"Don't give me that bullshit." George was definitely angry. His face was turning a dark red, and you could practically see the smoke pouring out of his ears. "You're not gay. It's just a phase. In another year or two you'll have a girlfriend—"

"No, I won't, Dad." Blaine protested. "It's not a phase."

Mr. Anderson stood up, walked around the coffee table, and to his son. Blaine forced his legs to work and rose from his seat as well, so him and his father were face to face. Tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to let them spill. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of that.

His father looked him straight in the eye. "Get out of my house."

"George—" His mother protested, also getting up from the couch.

"No, Mary." He put out a hand to stop her, but didn't take his eyes away from Blaine.

"I won't have you live under my roof. You need to leave."

"But—Dad—"

"Don't call me 'dad.' As long as you're convinced that you're a fag, you're not my son. Now pack your bags and get out of my house."

"I have nowhere to go!"

"It's not my problem."

"Please don't do this—I'm sorry—"

Blaine's eyes widened in fear as his father raised his fist and harshly punched him in the cheek. He stumbled backwards and searched for something to balance him; all his hands found was a lamp, which fell to the floor. Blaine managed to regain his balance, however, and had no clue what else to do but flee upstairs to his bedroom, where be began to stuff handfuls of random clothing into a duffel bag. His breath was coming in short gasps, and the next thing he knew, tears were spilling out of his eyes. Why couldn't his father understand? And why didn't his mother say or do anything? Nothing was clear to him anymore.

He finished packing and zipped up the bag. He wasn't exactly sure what he packed, but he hoped it was enough. He laid down on his bed and cried, cried until he couldn't breathe or see anything. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there when his cell phone went off on top of his bag. He reached for it and the screen showed that he had a new text message from his mother. Confused, he sat up in his bed and tapped the screen to view it. Go to your Aunt Beth's house, it read. She already knows you're coming. I'll stop by tomorrow. I'm sorry.

He stared at the message in wonder. Maybe she did care about him.

So he put the bag on his shoulder and walked downstairs. His parents were in the kitchen; his father holding a glass of bourbon at the table, and his mother standing against the counter with a mug of tea. His father didn't turn around at the sound of his footsteps. Mary nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.

Aunt Beth only lived about a mile away, so it took about half an hour to get to her house. Last time he had checked, before he talked to his parents, it was eight o' clock at night, so it must have been at least nine thirty. When he walked to her doorstep, he didn't even have to ring the doorbell for her to open the door and wrap him in her arms. "Oh, Blaine," she said. "Everything will be okay, I promise you. It'll be just fine."

It had been a few months since he'd last seen her, but from what Blaine could remember, she hasn't changed much over the years. She had blue eyes and black hair down to her shoulders. She was rather short compared to Blaine, maybe around five feet tall. Aunt Beth was always Blaine's favorite aunt when he was younger. She would sneak him dessert after Thanksgiving dinner and always got him what he wanted for Christmas. And as he got older, he grew to respect her. She was one of the kindest women he knew, but at the same time wasn't afraid to speak her opinion, and Blaine loved her for that.

"Come on in, kid. Make yourself settled." She showed him his room, an average-sized guest room with cream colored walls, a painting above a dresser, and a television. (The latter made Blaine happy for a few moments; as much as he had begged, his parents had never let him have a TV in his bedroom.) The bed was comfortable, although Blaine barely slept that night.

In the morning, he went into the kitchen to find his aunt scrambling eggs over the stove. He offered to help, but Beth denied it. The eggs turned out to be delicious. He got a chance to talk with his aunt over his second cup of coffee after breakfast.

"I just wanted to tell you that I don't care whether you're gay, straight, or anything in between. It doesn't matter to me. I know your mom feels the same way I do. That's why she called me last night and asked me to take you in. As for your dad...maybe he'll come around. To be honest, though, I don't understand why your mom's still with him. I knew all he was was trouble, right from the start."

Tears pooled in Blaine's eyes for what must have been the fiftieth time in the past twenty four hours. It was nice to know there was someone out there who didn't think of him as some kind of inhuman creature. "Thank you, Aunt Beth. Really. You have no idea how grateful I am." He was about to say more, but the doorbell rang. "You're welcome," Beth said to Blaine, and then shouted "Come in!" towards the door.

Into the house came Mary, who smiled at the sight of her son.

"Mom," Blaine said, walking towards her. She wrapped Blaine in a long, warm, loving hug. She clung to him as if she were afraid that at any moment someone will come and snatch him away.

She finally pulled away and put her hands on Blaine's face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Blaine assured her.

"You have a bruise..." She gently ran her fingers over Blaine's cheek, where his father had hit him the night before. Blaine blushed. He hadn't looked in the mirror since he woke up and therefore didn't notice the bruise. He wondered why Aunt Beth didn't say anything to him about it.

"I'm so sorry," Mary continued. "I should have done something last night."

"It's okay, Mom." Maybe he was supposed to be angry at her, but he just couldn't be. He knew she meant well.

"Your father is still upset, but I want you to know...I love you. You'll always be my son, no matter who you love. All I want is for you to be happy."

Neither of them were able to hold back their tears. "I love you, too," Blaine replied. "Thank you."

Blaine was brought back to reality by the touch of his mother's hand over his own. "I know I'm apologizing a lot tonight, but I'm sorry."

"I understand, Mom. It's okay."

More memories, both good and bad, flashed before his eyes. His mother visiting him every couple of days, just to make sure he was doing okay. Sitting at the kitchen table, playing cards with his aunt. Sitting alone at lunch during school. Being tossed not just against the locker, but literally into it, and locked inside until someone heard him and was kind enough to get it open for him.

He had stayed at Aunt Beth's for a couple more weeks, until Mary finally convinced George to let Blaine back in. Even when he did, however, he barely said a word to him. After the Sadie Hawkins dance, he transferred to Dalton, and his father insisted that he boarded there.

As much as he was taunted by George, he was still Blaine's father, and a part of him would miss him. But he knew it was better this way. He realized that his parents never really fought until he came out to them. He couldn't help but feel guilty about it, but he didn't speak up to his mom. He knew she would tell him that he wasn't to blame.

A nurse called him into a room where she checked his blood pressure and heartbeat. Then he was led to an another room, where he waited for a doctor. Silence fell over Blaine and his mother, and they both sat in waiting for a long while.

"I'll move in to your Aunt Joyce's house, so you won't have to move." Aunt Joyce was the aunt that Blaine was staying with now, who lived just outside of Lima. "But you'll have to come with me to get the rest of your things."

"Okay." He wasn't sure what else he should say.

Just then a tall, balding man in a long white coat walked into the room. "Hello there," he said, shaking both their hands. "You can call me Dr. Ian." He looked down at his clipboard. "Broken wrist, huh? May I take a look at it?"

He examined Blaine's wrist, trying to inch it left, right, up, and down. Blaine winced in pain. He felt and moved it a little more before seeming to come to a conclusion. "It seems broken to me. We'd better do some X-Rays just to be sure." So he took am X-Ray, and, sure enough, it was broken.

A few hours later, they walked out of the hospital with a cast on Blaine's wrist. It was impossible to move anything and it would definitely get in the way of things, but he'd have to work around it. The cast had to stay on for seven weeks.

They drove to Aunt Joyce's house, where Blaine dropped off his school bag and grabbed a snack. His mother had four sisters, and they all looked pretty much the same: silky black hair, olive skin, brown eyes. The only difference was that Aunt Beth was shorter than the rest and Aunt Joyce wore glasses. He hadn't seen his other two aunts, Grace and Jane, for years since they lived out of state.

As he sat in the kitchen, he heard his mother and Aunt Joyce talk in the living room. From what he could hear, Joyce seemed to be assuring her that leaving his father was the right thing to do.

He wasn't quite sure what to think or feel about his mom and dad splitting up. On one hand, he was happy, because he wouldn't have to put up with the constant torture of his father's silence anymore. On the other, at the end of the day he was still his father, and there was a part of him that still loved him, even though he put him through hell. He guessed you never really stop loving your family.

The phone on the counter rang, and Blaine got up from his seat to get it. "Hello?"

"Blaine? Oh, thank god it's you. I wasn't sure where to call since you lost your phone."

"I'll get it back tomorrow."

"How do you feel?"

"I got a cast on my wrist. My eye's bruised but I think the swelling went down a bit. I'll be okay."

"We're going to get him expelled, Blaine. He deserves at least a suspension for what he did to you. I can have Coach Sylvester pull some strings. I think she still likes me."

"Karofsky's probably spread the word that he beat another kid up today. The whole school probably knows by now. Everyone will be staring at me tomorrow."

"I don't know about that. But if Azimio or anybody does as much as look at you the wrong way, you bet I won't be afraid to give them a taste of their own medicine."

For some reason, Blaine chuckled. "Thanks, Kurt." After a second-long pause, he continued. "So...in the hospital, my mom told me that she left my dad."

"What? Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"It's...it's okay, I guess. I don't really know. But I could really use a hand when I pack my stuff, considering one of mine is...disabled, or whatever you want to call it. Would you mind helping me? We're leaving in a few minutes so if you already have plans..."

"No, I'd love to. Want me to meet you there?"

"That sounds great. Thank you."

"Of course, Blaine."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He hung up the phone just as his aunt and mother walked back into the room.

"Ready to go, Blaine?" His mother grabbed her bag from the counter and slung her coat over her arm.

"Yeah," he replied. "Is it okay if Kurt comes to help me pack?" He awkwardly gestured to his broken wrist.

Mary agreed to let Kurt help him, and Blaine followed her out the door and into the car. Their house was in Lakeview, so it was a half hour drive. As they pulled up to the house, both Blaine and his mother sighed in relief when they saw that George's car wasn't in the driveway. Kurt's car was parked on the street. Upon seeing them, Kurt got out of it and greeted Mrs. (Ms.?) Anderson with a smile.

"Let me know if you boys need any help," Mary said as she opened the front door and stepped inside. She began to walk up the stairs to her bedroom but stopped halfway, peeking back into the living room where her son and his boyfriend stood. "Oh, and boys? The door stays open." She could only hold her stern face for a moment after seeing their faces. Blaine gave her that look that she'd seen many other kids give their parents: the "Mom, please stop embarrassing me in front of my friends/boyfriend" look. Kurt was blushing wildly.

She went to her bedroom, leaving the couple behind. Seeing Kurt's stressed expression, Blaine said, "Don't worry. She likes you."

"She does?"

"Uh-huh. She said she was glad that I found someone. And that she was proud of me, which was really good to hear."

"I'm so happy for you. About you and your mom. Not about her and your dad..." Kurt trailed off, feeling uncomfortable. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I'm not sure how I should feel myself," Blaine admitted. "We'd better get packing." They went to his room, careful to leave the door wide open, and Blaine began to fish for his suitcase in the pile of junk stuffed in his closet.

He found it, pulled it out, and set it on the bed. They agreed that Kurt would tackle the closet while Blaine went through his dresser. They worked in silence, Kurt often biting his tongue to keep himself from commenting on some of the less than fashionable things he found. (He swore he had never seen so many flood pants in his life.)

After a little over an hour, the majority of Blaine's clothes (he decided to put some of them aside to be donated later) were packed into two large suitcases and a duffel bag.

Back in his closet, quite a large collection of various items were left on the floor. Much of it was from all the times his mother had asked him to clean his room; he tended to just stuff everything in the closet. He knew he would regret it one day.

It took another hour (with a snack courtesy of Mrs. Anderson in between) to sort everything out. They found candy wrappers, old homework from Dalton, two books Blaine had been searching for for months, and more between sports jerseys and equipment.

Perhaps Blaine's favorite discovery was a picture of him and the Warblers, Kurt included, at last year's Regional competition. Blaine found himself smiling in remembrance. Kurt looked over Blaine's shoulder to see the photo. "Oh, the good ol' days," he sighed dramatically. "When you finally caught on to my endless flirting and gazing. It took you long enough," he teased, and Blaine nudged him playfully. He knew Kurt would never let that go. He'd probably tell the story to their children and grandchildren and the story would probably be passed on throughout the generations and he will forever be known as Mr. Oblivious.

Blaine laughed to himself at the thought and stood up to put the picture in the "keep" box.