Waiting for a Happy Ending - Part Two C
Title: Waiting for a Happy Ending
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Stevie and the Evans family, the Andersons, and large swaths of Glee clubbers (New Directions and Warblers)
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: TBD - Part Two is 17K
Spoilers: All of S2, up to 3x02
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson lived under another name for almost nine years with an abusive man he was forced to pretend was his father. He always thought his own family had given up on him, but now that he's found out the majority of his life was spent believing a lie, he has to try to reconcile the life he had with the life that was taken away from him. Sequel to Looking for a Happy Ending.
Note: Huge thanks to my betas LoonyLevicorpus and callmerayray for taking the fic and trying to help me avoid stupid typos and things that make no sense this time around. Any mistakes you find are all from last-minute edits I made before I posted. Because sometimes I can't leave good enough alone.
A/N: Extra (extra) waring for this part: Blaine breaks out the "F" word (not the sometimes-fun "F" word). I don't know why I feel the need to add the extra warnings for it, but I really do. Maybe because I felt like I was going to be sick every time I read what I was making him say about himself? Internalized homophobia is running rampant here, so brace yourselves before you get started. It's not pretty
The day everything changes, and doesn't, is the day his parents find out he's gay. Only "find out" isn't the right way to put it, since Blaine is still certain they've been trying to coerce some sort of confession out of him ever since he's gotten home, like they think a person couldn't have sex that many times without learning how to like it. Like a guy can't have a friend like Kurt without playing for the other team, even though technically that's not fair to his parents, because lots of people figure out that Blaine and Kurt like each other just by being around them. They're so obvious that David's blind great-grandmother figured out they were a couple after talking to them for 2 minutes earlier that summer. Admittedly that was kind of embarrassing, but Blaine thinks even if it is that noticeable, his own parents shouldn't make those kinds of assumptions.
To their credit, Blaine supposes that it's nice that they don't give up on waiting for his big confession to happen organically in favour of sitting him down and forcing him to own up, but in the end their patience doesn't do him much good at all, not in the face of his raging stupidity. When it happens, they're being so non-invasive, they aren't even trying to make him talk about what he's done that day, let alone make him stop hiding his sexual orientation. All that they're doing is talking about school in the fall.
Blaine has been enrolled at Westerville for over a month by now. Every day he thinks he might finally ask them if he can go to Dalton instead, armed with a long list of logical and practical reasons. Every day the list goes unsaid, and he's pretty well resigned himself to starting up at yet another school where no one knows him and he has to get by making himself as unnoticeable as possible, even though this time his face has been on the news so often there's probably no way he can make that happen short of skipping every single day and hiding under the bleachers.
Blaine doesn't believe in miracles or good luck, so when his dad comes home from work one day quieter than usual, looking at Blaine with a pinched expression when he doesn't think anyone is paying attention, Blaine automatically braces himself for the worst. He feels every look being thrown his direction, even though he pretends he doesn't notice. He can always tell when they stare at him like that, like they're waiting for him to break down and start crying, or maybe start ripping apart small children.
This time his mother notices, too, which means it must be even worse than usual, and she calls Dad away to talk in private. She tries to be subtle about it, though, asking if anyone would like to come help her make dinner, at which his father leaps up to volunteer so suddenly, it's like it's killing him inside that it's not his night to cook, like there's nothing he loves more in the world than cooking, as evidenced by all the tons of frozen lasagne and pasta they eat on the nights he's in charge. It would be funny if Blaine didn't know this wasn't somehow about him.
They talk in the kitchen for a long time, until Cynthia goes in and whines about how she's so hungry her legs feel weak. Blaine starts counting in his head as soon as he sits down at the table, wondering how long his parents will hold out before they let him know what's bothering them. It takes almost half the meal of Blaine picking at his plate, his nervousness steadily increasing the longer they wait, before they finally quit half-heartedly reminding Cynthia to stop talking every now and then so she actually remembers to ingest food, and admit they have something else on their minds.
"I was speaking to someone at work today about you, Blaine," his dad says, full of that false casualness Blaine has gotten used to by now. He says nothing, just sits quietly as he stares at his plate and waits for the other shoe to drop.
"He has a son your age and wanted to know where you would be going to school."
Blaine carefully sets down his fork, trying to convince himself that he won't start banging his head against the wall if they're trying to arrange a goddamn babysitter for him in the fall.
"He goes to Westerville High?" He manages, fairly neutrally he thinks.
"He used to," his dad says, looking anxious again. "He actually transferred out his freshman year. His dad was telling me some things about the administration over there that worried me."
"What did he say?" Blaine asks. He has no idea where all of this is going.
"His son was very outspoken when he went there," his mom says when she sees his dad faltering. "He attracted a lot of negative attention and was bullied on a daily basis."
"The man I worked with thought we should be very careful about sending you to Westerville," his dad says. "He said their bullying solution was a joke, and that they can be somewhat prejudiced when it comes to helping certain students. Apparently their equal treatment ends up being that they help their struggling students the exact same way they punish their bad ones."
He sighs a little and rubs his forehead.
"He told me during his son's freshman year he was beaten up so badly at one of the school dances he had to go the hospital. Not only did the teacher chaperones ignore him after he was attacked, forcing him to wait for his dad to pick him up before he was able to get to an emergency room, when he finally made it back to school, he was put into the remedial class, which constantly included at least one of the kids who attacked him at any given time."
"Why didn't anyone press charges?" Blaine asks, feeling a little horrified.
His dad shrugs.
"None of the witnesses would back up his statement, and he was already scared enough of retaliation as it was. No one could convince him to do it."
"So why are you telling me this?" Blaine asks. "To make sure I keep my head down?"
"Blaine, if that's truly how the school handles conflict we don't want you there period," his mother says. "But your dad and I have been talking about it and it would incredibly stupid to send you to a school that's so obviously dangerous for you specifically."
"What do you mean?" Blaine asks. "Because everyone knows who I am?"
"That boy was a target because he was gay and didn't care who knew it," his mother says bluntly, and Blaine feels like someone's punched him in the stomach. "Everyone knows what happened to you, Blaine. You don't even have the option of hiding it if you want to. It's going to be hard no matter where you go, but I don't even want to think about what some people might do to you if they don't have to worry about the consequences."
Blaine blinks hard and stares at his plate of cold food, not trusting himself to say a word.
"I'm sorry it has to be like this," his dad says, obviously frustrated. "It's bad enough that creep forced you into this situation in the first place, but you shouldn't be going to a school where ignorant people are allowed to punish you for something you can't control."
Blaine doesn't know what he's supposed to say now, because he doesn't want to go to Westerville, but not because everyone and their dog knows what he's been doing for the last nine years. Not because his parents are embarrassed by what happened and don't want to be reminded about how their perfect son was turned into some sick, deformed copy of what should have been. Blaine wishes there was a way to make all of this okay for them. His entire relationship with them is grounded in their disappointment.
"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I should have tried harder."
"To do what?" his mom asks, sounding genuinely confused.
"When I was living with him it was so much easier to be the way that he wanted, I never thought about what would happen if I left. I never thought about what it would look like to anyone else who found out what was happening. And I know it looks bad, okay? I know it makes it look like I wanted it, and it turns my family into a joke, but I never even thought about people being able to tell before I came back here. I don't want them to. I mean, at least I'm trying to hide it."
"Hide what?" His mother sounds even more lost than she did moments before, and is beginning to sound a little alarmed besides. Blaine realizes his eyes are stinging and nothing he's saying is making sense to anyone else, but he keeps trying.
"I try to keep people from seeing that I like guys." His voice is so tight he can barely get the words out. His father actually goes gray as he sits there listening and it makes Blaine recoil, as he stands up from the table and shakily backs away, putting more distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't want to do this to you. I don't really know if he made me turn out this way, if it's like it's my fault for not trying hard enough to get away or whatever, but in the end the only thing that matters is that he's gay and now I'm gay and it's just like I'm bringing a piece of him into the house with me and I know it's wrong to do that to you and I'm sorry but I can't just turn it off. I don't even think I want to turn it off. So I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you, and that I disappointed you, and that I turned out to be a pervert just like him - "
"Blaine," his father says, sharply. He's still looking at him like he's going to be sick. "That's enough. Diane? Could you take Cynthia to her room, please?"
"What?" Cynthia says. "No, no I want to stay."
Her voice is distressed and almost pleading. Blaine's never heard her argue without whining before. She's crying a little when he looks at her to watch as his mom firmly guides her away. He can hear the worried demands for an explanation all the way up the stairs.
"What's wrong with Blaine? What did the man do to him? You said the man wouldn't hurt him anymore so why is he crying?"
Blaine is so wrapped up in listening and wondering when she started to care he doesn't notice his father getting up until he's standing right next to him, saying, "Blaine? Let's talk in the living room, okay?" As he talks he reaches out and carefully puts his hand on Blaine's back. The contact feels revolting, like the nerve endings just under his skin haven't caught up to the rest of his body and are still trapped in what used to be Blaine's life. It's like Tom is standing there in the room with him, touching him, destroying the safe feeling and taking the one thing that only his real father has ever been able to offer.
"Please don't touch me," he begs, and his dad pulls back so fast it's like he's been burned.
"Okay," he says. "Okay. But can we please talk about this, maybe in the living room? I think we really need to talk about this."
Blaine nods shakily, because there's really no way to avoid it anymore. When he walks into the living room, the furniture looks comfortable and entirely uninviting. The last thing his body wants right now is a comfortable place to sit when all he wants to do is run away. He's cautiously sitting down on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and back pushed up against the hard and awkward angles of the entertainment centre when his mother walks in and joins his dad, sitting down on the couch to face him.
"Okay," she says carefully, like she's trying to figure out the best way to start out hostage negotiations. "Do you want to tell us what got you so upset in there, Blaine? Is it the idea that people will think you're gay because of everything that's happened? Because I don't want to upset you anymore than you already are, sweetie, but I think you'll be seeing a lot of that. This is going to be very hard for a lot of people to understand."
Blaine presses his face into the fronts of his legs. His voice is muffled when he answers,
"They aren't going to think anything that isn't true."
"I doubt that," his dad says, trying to sound dismissive, but mostly coming across shaky. "You need to remember a lot of people are very confused about what happened to you, and I think you also need to remember that you're one of those people, Blaine."
That makes Blaine look up, a flash of anger overtaking the fear.
"What am I confused about?" he demands. "I'm the one who lived it. I know how I kept listening to his bullshit way longer than any smart person would. I'm the one who lay down and took it when I should have kept fighting back and trying to find a way out. I just let him take what he wanted, and I ended up growing up to be just like him. Some limp-wristed, child-fucking faggot - "
"Blaine!" His dad snaps again, louder this time. "That's enough. I don't ever want to hear you use those words when you talk about yourself again, am I clear?"
Blaine just scowls at him.
"I'm not the one who's confused," he repeats.
He rests his head back on his legs again as his mother says,
"Blaine, please look at me."
He doesn't move but she keeps talking anyhow.
"You remember what Lola Grace told you, right? Being gay doesn't make you a bad person, and having been molested doesn't change that. It's not a punishment, it's just who you are."
"You're not like Brenner," his dad says, firmly. "Are you worried because you like Kurt? Because a teenager who likes another teenager isn't morally wrong. It's normal, and it's wrong to compare those feelings to the feelings of a pedophile who targets 8-year-old boys."
Blaine winces a little.
"So," he says. "Not only do you already know how gay I am, even though you seem to think it's fun to act like it's not disgustingly obvious, you also know that I like Kurt Hummel?"
Mom looks at him like Carole sometimes looks at Finn when he's just said something simultaneously stupid and charming.
"You're both a little bit obvious."
"Because I can't pass," Blaine says. "Right. I caught that part when you told me I was too gay for public school."
That seems to be the last straw for his mother, who gets abruptly and moves to go sit beside him.
"That is not what we meant," she says, pulling him against her side, holding him tighter when he tries to shift away. "Blaine, we were only worried that you might be targeted because the people who don't understand about what happened could make some inexcusable assumptions about whether or not you wanted it, not because of your sexual orientation. Even if it was obvious, it wouldn't matter to us. We never brought it up because we wanted you to tell us when you were ready."
"I feel stupid," Blaine says flatly, leaning into his mother a little more readily. "I thought even if you knew I was gay I could keep you from finding out anything else, just in case you'd be more okay with it if I never did anything about it. I've been trying so hard to keep you from paying too much attention to Kurt and me, and you already figured everything out."
His mother rubs his shoulder, consolingly.
"It's okay that you like Kurt. We like Kurt, too. And we've known since the first time you had him over. Cynthia came running downstairs telling us you were kissing a boy."
"What?" Blaine says. "We were not kissing when she came into the room. She's such a liar."
Blaine doesn't care if Wes thinks he'll get used to being a brother or not. They should totally trade Cynthia in for another cat. Mrs. Frisby would never do this to him.
"Blaine," his mother says seriously. "You know there's nothing wrong with you, right?"
Blaine starts laughing as soon as she's said it, and she makes a small frustrated noise before adding,
"I mean that there's nothing wrong with you being gay."
"I know," Blaine says, finally feeling brave enough to look up and make eye contact again. He freezes when he sees his father. For just a second, his dad's face is terrible: a strange mix of fear and sadness, repulsion, hatred, and worry. Blaine's heart lurches but the look is gone the next second, and all that's left is the sadness as he smiles at Blaine.
"I know everyone says there's nothing wrong with me," Blaine says, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "But it still feels like there is, most of the time."
His mother squeezes his shoulder again and he lets his head fall against her without even thinking about it first. It still feels strange, and it makes him nervous, but in a good way, sort of like the way he feels when he realizes he has real friends, which is something else he's never had much experience with. His dad stays on the couch, watching both of them with a now unreadable expression.
After a while Cynthia has had enough and comes barging into the living room, demanding to know what's happening and threatening to tell on everyone if she doesn't stop getting punished when she didn't even do anything wrong. Blaine has his own opinions about the deranged little narc's innocence but he keeps them to himself. It's not until later that night he realizes that his father hasn't even come within four feet of him since Blaine told him to stay away.
To Masterpost
Author: firefly_ca
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt/Blaine, with appearances by Stevie and the Evans family, the Andersons, and large swaths of Glee clubbers (New Directions and Warblers)
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes, scenes, etc.
Word Count: TBD - Part Two is 17K
Spoilers: All of S2, up to 3x02
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson lived under another name for almost nine years with an abusive man he was forced to pretend was his father. He always thought his own family had given up on him, but now that he's found out the majority of his life was spent believing a lie, he has to try to reconcile the life he had with the life that was taken away from him. Sequel to Looking for a Happy Ending.
Note: Huge thanks to my betas LoonyLevicorpus and callmerayray for taking the fic and trying to help me avoid stupid typos and things that make no sense this time around. Any mistakes you find are all from last-minute edits I made before I posted. Because sometimes I can't leave good enough alone.
A/N: Extra (extra) waring for this part: Blaine breaks out the "F" word (not the sometimes-fun "F" word). I don't know why I feel the need to add the extra warnings for it, but I really do. Maybe because I felt like I was going to be sick every time I read what I was making him say about himself? Internalized homophobia is running rampant here, so brace yourselves before you get started. It's not pretty
The day everything changes, and doesn't, is the day his parents find out he's gay. Only "find out" isn't the right way to put it, since Blaine is still certain they've been trying to coerce some sort of confession out of him ever since he's gotten home, like they think a person couldn't have sex that many times without learning how to like it. Like a guy can't have a friend like Kurt without playing for the other team, even though technically that's not fair to his parents, because lots of people figure out that Blaine and Kurt like each other just by being around them. They're so obvious that David's blind great-grandmother figured out they were a couple after talking to them for 2 minutes earlier that summer. Admittedly that was kind of embarrassing, but Blaine thinks even if it is that noticeable, his own parents shouldn't make those kinds of assumptions.
To their credit, Blaine supposes that it's nice that they don't give up on waiting for his big confession to happen organically in favour of sitting him down and forcing him to own up, but in the end their patience doesn't do him much good at all, not in the face of his raging stupidity. When it happens, they're being so non-invasive, they aren't even trying to make him talk about what he's done that day, let alone make him stop hiding his sexual orientation. All that they're doing is talking about school in the fall.
Blaine has been enrolled at Westerville for over a month by now. Every day he thinks he might finally ask them if he can go to Dalton instead, armed with a long list of logical and practical reasons. Every day the list goes unsaid, and he's pretty well resigned himself to starting up at yet another school where no one knows him and he has to get by making himself as unnoticeable as possible, even though this time his face has been on the news so often there's probably no way he can make that happen short of skipping every single day and hiding under the bleachers.
Blaine doesn't believe in miracles or good luck, so when his dad comes home from work one day quieter than usual, looking at Blaine with a pinched expression when he doesn't think anyone is paying attention, Blaine automatically braces himself for the worst. He feels every look being thrown his direction, even though he pretends he doesn't notice. He can always tell when they stare at him like that, like they're waiting for him to break down and start crying, or maybe start ripping apart small children.
This time his mother notices, too, which means it must be even worse than usual, and she calls Dad away to talk in private. She tries to be subtle about it, though, asking if anyone would like to come help her make dinner, at which his father leaps up to volunteer so suddenly, it's like it's killing him inside that it's not his night to cook, like there's nothing he loves more in the world than cooking, as evidenced by all the tons of frozen lasagne and pasta they eat on the nights he's in charge. It would be funny if Blaine didn't know this wasn't somehow about him.
They talk in the kitchen for a long time, until Cynthia goes in and whines about how she's so hungry her legs feel weak. Blaine starts counting in his head as soon as he sits down at the table, wondering how long his parents will hold out before they let him know what's bothering them. It takes almost half the meal of Blaine picking at his plate, his nervousness steadily increasing the longer they wait, before they finally quit half-heartedly reminding Cynthia to stop talking every now and then so she actually remembers to ingest food, and admit they have something else on their minds.
"I was speaking to someone at work today about you, Blaine," his dad says, full of that false casualness Blaine has gotten used to by now. He says nothing, just sits quietly as he stares at his plate and waits for the other shoe to drop.
"He has a son your age and wanted to know where you would be going to school."
Blaine carefully sets down his fork, trying to convince himself that he won't start banging his head against the wall if they're trying to arrange a goddamn babysitter for him in the fall.
"He goes to Westerville High?" He manages, fairly neutrally he thinks.
"He used to," his dad says, looking anxious again. "He actually transferred out his freshman year. His dad was telling me some things about the administration over there that worried me."
"What did he say?" Blaine asks. He has no idea where all of this is going.
"His son was very outspoken when he went there," his mom says when she sees his dad faltering. "He attracted a lot of negative attention and was bullied on a daily basis."
"The man I worked with thought we should be very careful about sending you to Westerville," his dad says. "He said their bullying solution was a joke, and that they can be somewhat prejudiced when it comes to helping certain students. Apparently their equal treatment ends up being that they help their struggling students the exact same way they punish their bad ones."
He sighs a little and rubs his forehead.
"He told me during his son's freshman year he was beaten up so badly at one of the school dances he had to go the hospital. Not only did the teacher chaperones ignore him after he was attacked, forcing him to wait for his dad to pick him up before he was able to get to an emergency room, when he finally made it back to school, he was put into the remedial class, which constantly included at least one of the kids who attacked him at any given time."
"Why didn't anyone press charges?" Blaine asks, feeling a little horrified.
His dad shrugs.
"None of the witnesses would back up his statement, and he was already scared enough of retaliation as it was. No one could convince him to do it."
"So why are you telling me this?" Blaine asks. "To make sure I keep my head down?"
"Blaine, if that's truly how the school handles conflict we don't want you there period," his mother says. "But your dad and I have been talking about it and it would incredibly stupid to send you to a school that's so obviously dangerous for you specifically."
"What do you mean?" Blaine asks. "Because everyone knows who I am?"
"That boy was a target because he was gay and didn't care who knew it," his mother says bluntly, and Blaine feels like someone's punched him in the stomach. "Everyone knows what happened to you, Blaine. You don't even have the option of hiding it if you want to. It's going to be hard no matter where you go, but I don't even want to think about what some people might do to you if they don't have to worry about the consequences."
Blaine blinks hard and stares at his plate of cold food, not trusting himself to say a word.
"I'm sorry it has to be like this," his dad says, obviously frustrated. "It's bad enough that creep forced you into this situation in the first place, but you shouldn't be going to a school where ignorant people are allowed to punish you for something you can't control."
Blaine doesn't know what he's supposed to say now, because he doesn't want to go to Westerville, but not because everyone and their dog knows what he's been doing for the last nine years. Not because his parents are embarrassed by what happened and don't want to be reminded about how their perfect son was turned into some sick, deformed copy of what should have been. Blaine wishes there was a way to make all of this okay for them. His entire relationship with them is grounded in their disappointment.
"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I should have tried harder."
"To do what?" his mom asks, sounding genuinely confused.
"When I was living with him it was so much easier to be the way that he wanted, I never thought about what would happen if I left. I never thought about what it would look like to anyone else who found out what was happening. And I know it looks bad, okay? I know it makes it look like I wanted it, and it turns my family into a joke, but I never even thought about people being able to tell before I came back here. I don't want them to. I mean, at least I'm trying to hide it."
"Hide what?" His mother sounds even more lost than she did moments before, and is beginning to sound a little alarmed besides. Blaine realizes his eyes are stinging and nothing he's saying is making sense to anyone else, but he keeps trying.
"I try to keep people from seeing that I like guys." His voice is so tight he can barely get the words out. His father actually goes gray as he sits there listening and it makes Blaine recoil, as he stands up from the table and shakily backs away, putting more distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't want to do this to you. I don't really know if he made me turn out this way, if it's like it's my fault for not trying hard enough to get away or whatever, but in the end the only thing that matters is that he's gay and now I'm gay and it's just like I'm bringing a piece of him into the house with me and I know it's wrong to do that to you and I'm sorry but I can't just turn it off. I don't even think I want to turn it off. So I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you, and that I disappointed you, and that I turned out to be a pervert just like him - "
"Blaine," his father says, sharply. He's still looking at him like he's going to be sick. "That's enough. Diane? Could you take Cynthia to her room, please?"
"What?" Cynthia says. "No, no I want to stay."
Her voice is distressed and almost pleading. Blaine's never heard her argue without whining before. She's crying a little when he looks at her to watch as his mom firmly guides her away. He can hear the worried demands for an explanation all the way up the stairs.
"What's wrong with Blaine? What did the man do to him? You said the man wouldn't hurt him anymore so why is he crying?"
Blaine is so wrapped up in listening and wondering when she started to care he doesn't notice his father getting up until he's standing right next to him, saying, "Blaine? Let's talk in the living room, okay?" As he talks he reaches out and carefully puts his hand on Blaine's back. The contact feels revolting, like the nerve endings just under his skin haven't caught up to the rest of his body and are still trapped in what used to be Blaine's life. It's like Tom is standing there in the room with him, touching him, destroying the safe feeling and taking the one thing that only his real father has ever been able to offer.
"Please don't touch me," he begs, and his dad pulls back so fast it's like he's been burned.
"Okay," he says. "Okay. But can we please talk about this, maybe in the living room? I think we really need to talk about this."
Blaine nods shakily, because there's really no way to avoid it anymore. When he walks into the living room, the furniture looks comfortable and entirely uninviting. The last thing his body wants right now is a comfortable place to sit when all he wants to do is run away. He's cautiously sitting down on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and back pushed up against the hard and awkward angles of the entertainment centre when his mother walks in and joins his dad, sitting down on the couch to face him.
"Okay," she says carefully, like she's trying to figure out the best way to start out hostage negotiations. "Do you want to tell us what got you so upset in there, Blaine? Is it the idea that people will think you're gay because of everything that's happened? Because I don't want to upset you anymore than you already are, sweetie, but I think you'll be seeing a lot of that. This is going to be very hard for a lot of people to understand."
Blaine presses his face into the fronts of his legs. His voice is muffled when he answers,
"They aren't going to think anything that isn't true."
"I doubt that," his dad says, trying to sound dismissive, but mostly coming across shaky. "You need to remember a lot of people are very confused about what happened to you, and I think you also need to remember that you're one of those people, Blaine."
That makes Blaine look up, a flash of anger overtaking the fear.
"What am I confused about?" he demands. "I'm the one who lived it. I know how I kept listening to his bullshit way longer than any smart person would. I'm the one who lay down and took it when I should have kept fighting back and trying to find a way out. I just let him take what he wanted, and I ended up growing up to be just like him. Some limp-wristed, child-fucking faggot - "
"Blaine!" His dad snaps again, louder this time. "That's enough. I don't ever want to hear you use those words when you talk about yourself again, am I clear?"
Blaine just scowls at him.
"I'm not the one who's confused," he repeats.
He rests his head back on his legs again as his mother says,
"Blaine, please look at me."
He doesn't move but she keeps talking anyhow.
"You remember what Lola Grace told you, right? Being gay doesn't make you a bad person, and having been molested doesn't change that. It's not a punishment, it's just who you are."
"You're not like Brenner," his dad says, firmly. "Are you worried because you like Kurt? Because a teenager who likes another teenager isn't morally wrong. It's normal, and it's wrong to compare those feelings to the feelings of a pedophile who targets 8-year-old boys."
Blaine winces a little.
"So," he says. "Not only do you already know how gay I am, even though you seem to think it's fun to act like it's not disgustingly obvious, you also know that I like Kurt Hummel?"
Mom looks at him like Carole sometimes looks at Finn when he's just said something simultaneously stupid and charming.
"You're both a little bit obvious."
"Because I can't pass," Blaine says. "Right. I caught that part when you told me I was too gay for public school."
That seems to be the last straw for his mother, who gets abruptly and moves to go sit beside him.
"That is not what we meant," she says, pulling him against her side, holding him tighter when he tries to shift away. "Blaine, we were only worried that you might be targeted because the people who don't understand about what happened could make some inexcusable assumptions about whether or not you wanted it, not because of your sexual orientation. Even if it was obvious, it wouldn't matter to us. We never brought it up because we wanted you to tell us when you were ready."
"I feel stupid," Blaine says flatly, leaning into his mother a little more readily. "I thought even if you knew I was gay I could keep you from finding out anything else, just in case you'd be more okay with it if I never did anything about it. I've been trying so hard to keep you from paying too much attention to Kurt and me, and you already figured everything out."
His mother rubs his shoulder, consolingly.
"It's okay that you like Kurt. We like Kurt, too. And we've known since the first time you had him over. Cynthia came running downstairs telling us you were kissing a boy."
"What?" Blaine says. "We were not kissing when she came into the room. She's such a liar."
Blaine doesn't care if Wes thinks he'll get used to being a brother or not. They should totally trade Cynthia in for another cat. Mrs. Frisby would never do this to him.
"Blaine," his mother says seriously. "You know there's nothing wrong with you, right?"
Blaine starts laughing as soon as she's said it, and she makes a small frustrated noise before adding,
"I mean that there's nothing wrong with you being gay."
"I know," Blaine says, finally feeling brave enough to look up and make eye contact again. He freezes when he sees his father. For just a second, his dad's face is terrible: a strange mix of fear and sadness, repulsion, hatred, and worry. Blaine's heart lurches but the look is gone the next second, and all that's left is the sadness as he smiles at Blaine.
"I know everyone says there's nothing wrong with me," Blaine says, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "But it still feels like there is, most of the time."
His mother squeezes his shoulder again and he lets his head fall against her without even thinking about it first. It still feels strange, and it makes him nervous, but in a good way, sort of like the way he feels when he realizes he has real friends, which is something else he's never had much experience with. His dad stays on the couch, watching both of them with a now unreadable expression.
After a while Cynthia has had enough and comes barging into the living room, demanding to know what's happening and threatening to tell on everyone if she doesn't stop getting punished when she didn't even do anything wrong. Blaine has his own opinions about the deranged little narc's innocence but he keeps them to himself. It's not until later that night he realizes that his father hasn't even come within four feet of him since Blaine told him to stay away.
To Masterpost