"Mm, yeah. Right there baby," the twink below me is moaning. I feel my stomach growing tighter, and tighter- until I explode and release myself inside him.

"Damn- that was good," he pants.

"Yeah, bathroom is down the hall," I tell him and I see his eyes flicker for a brief second, before he reluctantly climbs off my bed and leaves for the bathroom.

I had picked him up at Gabe's stupid too-gay-even-for-Elton-John party. He was one of the waiters bustling around with trays on his hand. Don't get me wrong, terrific fuck with a brilliantly tight ass, but still incomparable to how Kurt was.

I can't explain it- but sex with Kurt was just..it didn't feel like it was meaningless than my countless random tricks. It was different, and though I want to suffice it with the fact that he is my bestfriend, it's more than that and I know it. I don't know what it is, but it's more than meaningless, drunken sex. I know that much.

"So- can I stay over?" the twink is back, and he's trying to put on a show, raising his knee and caressing the door.

"Nah- go home," I dismiss him. He looks ashen, before he mutters an obscenity and storms off.

As if I would actually go to sleep with someone I just slept with- an exception was Kurt, though. But he always is an exception to me.

Part of me is afraid to explore what it was that I felt during that drunken mistake. I felt alive, I felt like I found something that I wasn't sure I was looking for, I felt- amazing, on fire but tamed and grounded and relaxed at the same time. It's crazy, but as much as I want to suffice it with having sex with Kurt- someone I had sworn to keep my hands off- I know it meant more, but exploring it means a whole other wave of problems. Call me cowardly, but I am afraid.

Then there is the part that about Gabe, Kurt's boyfriend. I feel bad for the guy that maybe he kept Kurt in a rut for so long he couldn't help himself with me, but deep down I know that was not what happened. Do I feel guilty for what I did to Gabe? In a sense, yeah. Maybe. Well, I know I should feel guilty but should something that felt somehow right, feel guilty too?

So this is what I've been doing to- like Kurt wanted- forget it happened by drowning myself far too many conquest. They're not hard to fine though. The moment I step into a gay bar guys eye me like I'm some Brent Corrigan or something. I am flattered, of course, but this also means it makes it easier to pick up guys- but none, though, felt as amazing as Kurt did.

God- stop, try to forget Anderson. Try.

But try as I might, it is still well vivid in my memories. No matter how many guys I sleep with, it still doesn't not feel just as amazing as it felt with Kurt. Amazing- amazing is truly the best description for what I felt.

I drag myself off my bed, about to clean myself off from that disgusting stench of a college student, when my phone rings. I dreadfully go to pick it up, seeing the caller ID reading Rachel's name.

"Hello?" I say, a little bewildered as to why she is calling me.

"Blaine? Do you think I can stay over your place tonight?"

"And why in the world would I even remotely let you to stay over here?"

"Because I went to back to Kurt's apartment, and I think I heard Kurt's moaning or whatever that was and I really don't want to interrupt them or like- walk in on Kurt having sex that is so awkward. Please?"

My mind slowly goes back to that night- Kurt naked, in a gentle orange bed lamp glow. Yup, I know fully well how Kurt looks during sex.

"Can't you just wait it out or something?" I say.

"It's cold! Come on, please?"

"Urg, fine," I say, though reluctantly. "Grab a cab and tell them to take you here. I'll text you my address."

"Great, thanks," she says.

"Oh, and while you're still out, get me a six pack, will you. It's the least you can do," I tell.

She snorts and hands up. A slumber party with Rachel Berry is something I thought I would never say.

Kurt- having sex with Gabe? Guess he's my that guilty after all, or he truly has forgotten about it. Either which, it makes me angry and a tad upset for some enigmatic reason.

-------

The elevator doors slide open and Rachel appears in her white gown, heels high as the Eiffel Tower and a bag no doubt beholding my six pack.

"I would say I'm glad to see you, but it's late and I don't think I'm up for pretending," I say.

"Thanks anyway," she says and throws the paper bag at me.

"I haven't been to your place for awhile. Seems just as ostentatious as it was before," she tells me.

"You would want to be a little appreciative of mine letting you spend the night here," I say, pulling out a bottle of this foreign brand of beer Rachel got me.

"Sorry," she feigns an apology and slides onto the single sofa chair across from me. "You should have heard the moans coming out of that apartment. No doubt Gabe is a good lover-"

"I rather not think about that," I say because I've heard Kurt's moans, and it was because of me.

Glanda appears from the kitchen, dressed in her coat and old Oxford shoes only she can pull off. "I'll be going now, Mister Anderson," she says.

"Sure thing Glanda. I'll call Marcus to take you home," I say.

"There is no need-"

"It's okay. Go. He'll be downstairs when you reach the lobby."

"Have a good night mister Anderson," she says, and she flashed a polite smile to Rachel as well. The woman is a saint, to be perfectly honest with you.

"You still have a nanny? What man child you are," Rachel snickers.

"It's cause I can afford one," I shoot back at her and she rolls her eyes. "What are you even doing back in New York, Berry? Did you finally realize just how small Finn is? Because I remember the size when I saw him once in the showers-"

"Shut up," she says. "If you must know, I'm back because I realize New York, and Broadway is my calling."

"I believe I said something similar the day before you left? Oh, did I have something to do with it?"

"Okay fine. Maybe-"

"Urg- I only have myself to blame."

"You helped me realize what's been my true love all this while, Blaine. You should feel proud."

"If you think this is going to be a Blaine, Berry bonding time- you're gonna have to grab a bottle as well."

"I won't say no to that," she says and picks one up.

"Cheers," I say. "To you return."

She blushes and she clinks her bottle with mine. "Thank you," he smiles.

I take a swig and almost spit the contents out. "This is disgusting!"

"Give it a minute," she says. "So anyway, are you and Kurt okay? He was really weird about seeing you tonight."

I choke one this bad beer, coughing searingly and Rachel frowns at me. If Rachel is good at one thing, it's that she knows to identify something that wreaks of fish.

"Kurt and I are fine," I say but I feel her deathly stare on me, trying to uncover behind my pretence.

"You know," Rachel starts, kicking her heels off and resting her feet on my coffee table. "I know Kurt, and the one person he is never nervous to be around, is you. But tonight- he was scared nervous, and when you guys did meet, I could've actually taste the maladroitness around you two, which leads me to believe that something did happen. So, tell me, Blaine, what happened?"

"You know I can kick you out to the streets, right?"

"You won't," she says calmly. "Because Kurt will be mad at you if you did."

"Kurt and I just haven't been spending a lot of time together. That's all," I say.

"Bullshit," she shoots at me. "You and Kurt didn't see each other for months and months when you went off to MIT, yet when we had that reunion at Mister Schuester's wedding, it was as if no time had gone by."

"What do you even want, Rachel?"

"Just wanna know what's going on, that's all," she smiles a sardonic, sweet Rachel Berry smile.

"Nothing is going on, are you nuts? Shut up and drink you beer," I say, a little too defensively I might say.

She looks at me, and I know she's not convinced.

-------

God knows what time it is, I can't think straight to be honest. All my thoughts just morphed into a ball of headache. Rachel and I are reminiscing the past, too drunk on this bad beer.

"You remember the time we made out at your stupid house party?" I say, giggling like a child on crack.

"That house party was genius."

"It would have sucked if Puck hadn't broke into your father's liquor cabinet."

"It would have been fine if he hadn't."

"It would have sucked," I laugh.

"Ah- I miss simple high school years."

"Simple? What was simple about high school."

"The young age. The youth, being a teenager and experiencing new things-"

"Like T-Rex sex with Finn?"

"He is an amazing lover."

"I did not need to hear that!"

This beverage is really bad, but I don't know the alcohol level on this thing. It might be through the roof, judging from my incapability of thinking straight.

"Now we're adults, forced to think sensibly. It sucks not being able to make mistakes anymore."

"Adults make mistakes too," I say.

"You sound like you made a big one," Rachel says and I sigh.

I start to feel dizzy, my head spinning, my eyelids fluttering. I want to go to bed so bad and sleep this off, but moving is a bad idea, especially climbing the stairs in this state.

"So, what really happened between you and Kurt?" Rachel ask, but all I hear is a soft mutter.

"Hm," I say, starting to feel like I am about to fall into slumber all of a sudden.

"Kurt and you, what happened?" she ask again but her voice is a distant whisper, though I think I vaguely heard her question.

I have no filter when I am this stupidly drunk. I have no reservations, or restraint. I feel myself speak the words in my head, more in a somnolence state than anything.

"We slept together," I yawn, unaware of Rachel's brown eyes as they widened. "Yup, we had sex. Good sex. Really- really good sex. Good sex that made me feel amazing afterwards and no other sex has felt that amazing."

"Are you serious?" Rachel says in a tone I'm assuming is one of aghast, but I'm not too sure because I am too sleepy.

"Yes," I yawn again. "But Kurt wants to forget all about it because he has a stupid boyfriend but I know he can't, because I can't."

Oh my god this headache might possibly be the death of me. I am so tired, my body feeling like gravity is acting twice it's usual strength on it. All I want is to curl up in my warm, warm bed right now.

"Are you guys like- friends with benefits then?" she ask, and somehow, despite I state, I smile at that idea.

"I won't object to that," I say, no control over my words. "Amazing sex. Do you know what is amazing sex, Rachel? The kind of sex you will never ever forget because you know it was more than just sex. You know- in stupid movies," I mumble.

"What do you mean more than just sex?"

I resign from this drunk conversation. My mind is in a daze, unsure of even my whereabouts. I slowly start to doze off, far into slumber, far to where my dreams take me- to that bed room, to those blue eyes, to that soft unblemished skin, to those soft lips.

"Fireworks," I mumble. "It was fireworks."

--------

It's Saturday morning- bright and early outside, much to my displeasure. Hangovers is equivalent to being a vampire in the morning- intolerable of the sun. I drag my covers over my head and groan, because as much as I want to stay in bed, I have to head down to my parent's house for brunch.

Time check- it's 10:12AM.

I have to be there at eleven. Curse my mother's rather strict nature with timing and punctuality. I drag myself off my bed, despite feeling so fucking lethargic and still in need of a couple of days, if not years, of sleep.

I check my phone then, and there is a text message from Rachel.

From: Rachel Berry
April 27, 2013 8:20 AM

Hey, thanks for letting me stay over for the night. See you soon.

Her text message is brief, and I wonder why. The last thing I remembered was Rachel appearing in that white gown with my six pack of bad beer. Everything else is like a blur to me. Oh well.

I take a long, calming shower using my shampoo to exfoliate the bad headache I now have. I keep having the sensation to throw up, like word vomit or something.

Dress code for Saturdays with family is always a simple, subtle t-shirt and jeans, though despite being casual I know guys would fall on their knees to get me. It's just that way- egoistical maybe, but I call it confidence.

Marcus is awaiting for my arrival outside the building. The weather is pretty humid, and I thank god I chose a thing cardigan to end this look.

"Hello Mister Anderson," Marcus greets me.

"Hello," I smile at my driver and enter the car.

"Will you be needing to go anywhere else before your parent's house?"

"No, no, just straight there."

I have no recollection of what happened last night after Rachel handed me those beers. What did they even contain? Some type of memory loss drug? For all I know I could've slept with Rachel.

The simple thought is disturbing.

The car pulls up outside my parents ridiculous huge town house and I enter. I can smell delicacies the second I step into the house. My mother no doubt told the chef to go all out for this brunch even though it's just us- without Cooper, though.

I haven't heard much from him. Last I heard the security that is assigned to watch over him from afar told me Cooper is still spending nights at bars drinking to an oblivion. I miss him, to be honest. He's my brother after all.

"Blaine," I hear Denise's voice greeting me.

"Hey Denise," I say when I see her coming from the den.

"We have a problem," she tells.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," she nudges and we step outside the house.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and a part or me thinks it's about Cooper.

"Your mother thinks your dad is having an affair."

"What?" I say in complete disbelief. "Why in the world would she think that?"

"Because she was suspicious the time your dad went to Chicago to get- the results? Yes, so she called your office at the Chicago firm and asked if your dad had been there, and they said no."

"So she jumps to the conclusion that he's sleeping with someone else? That's cray," I say.

"I heard her crying a few days ago, so I asked her what's wrong and she told me of her suspicions. She also told me she's been keeping tabs on your father, checking his phone records and everything. I wanted to tell her right then and there about his successful surgery, but I figured you or your father should do that."

"Oh god," I heave. "This is bad. When my mother suspects something, she won't stop until she finds out whether it's true or not. She's one of those people who don't just comes and confronts you, you know?"

"Yeah," Denise says. "So, what are we going to do?"

"What can we do? Unless my dad wants to tell her, which I highly doubt he does, we can do anything."

"Maybe you can talk to him?" Denise suggests.

"No, he says that since it's cured there is no point burdening her with this information that he did have cancer. It'll make her fear she might lose him or something."

"So what happens now? Because, ever since she confided in me, she's been coming to me to update me on her digging up shit on your dad. We have to do something."

"Maybe I can talk to my dad," I sigh. It's not like I haven't tried to before. My mother will be worried, even though he's cured, yes, but she still deserves to know- being all married to the man and all.

"Good," she sighs, relieved. "Lets get inside then."

We enter and I make for my dad's study- no doubt he's in there. I lightly tap on the door before opening in. He smiles at me from behind his desk- his healthy, fatherly smile. He motions me to sit while he finishes his phone call.

I remember the weight off my shoulders when I found out the surgery worked. We even went to a local hospital to check for his test results because I still couldn't believe the miracle, so after five tests at different hospitals, I was finally convinced.

My father is healthy again, and nothing brings me more joy.

"Hi Blaine," my father smiles as he puts his cordless phone back to it's cradle.

"Hey dad."

"Shouldn't we be downstairs? Your mother is preparing a feast and I don't know why seeing as it's just a normal brunch."

"You know mum, overly exaggerative," I say. "Speaking of which, she's convinced you have a side dish to munch on."

"Huh?" my father says, confused.

"She thinks you're cheating on her."

"What?" my father practically yells in deathly horror. "Why would she think that?"

"Your mysterious runaways to Chicago that time got her suspicious so she called the office and asked if you were there, now she thinks you were there because you have a booty call or whatever."

"That is crazy! I would never cheat on your mother!"

"Relax, dad," I say, contemplating whether I should pull out a metal shield because he is in rage. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I know why you are in Chicago, remember?"

"Oh, right," he inhales calmly, and I drop that imaginary shield.

"But she doesn't. Maybe- maybe it's about time we told her?"

"Blaine, we've talked about this. It's better to not do that. I'm cured anyway, I'm cancer free. There is absolutely no point in telling her now."

"No point?" I raise my brow. "Dad, she thinks you're a Cooper."

"I'll think of something," he says, though I know even he is at a lost. "Just- don't tell her anything, okay? And how do you know, anyway?"

"Denise told me. She caught mum crying the other night, so she asked and mum told her."

"God, now Denise must think the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

I am suddenly reminded that my father does not know that Denise knows of the truth. I don't know how he would react to this, though. I know subconsciously my father refuses to tell anyone because he doesn't want them to perceive him now as a weak, fragile man. I wish he would tell them. Family is family, after all. But that's pretty hypocritical- considering..my brother.

"Don't worry about her," I say.

"I'll figure something out- a lie, most probably."

"The truth would set you free," I say, though in my gut that testament relates to the events transpiring between my best friend and I.

"Lets to downstairs then. Maybe she would feel more secure if I would be all loving towards her."

"Or she might think you're guilty," I shrug. "But lets find out."

We head back down to the dining room, and just as predicted, my mother has a feast waiting for us. All cooked and baked to it's finest. I didn't realize how famished I am right until this moment.

"Uncle Blainers!" an all too familiar squeal comes barrelling in her squeaky shoes.

"Princess," I smile at her, before lifting her up off her feet. She squeals more now.

"Did you bring me a present?" she ask with hope so bright in her eyes.

"Sorry princess, I didn't get around to getting you something. I will when I come here again."

She pouts and my heart shatters. I was never too eager when Cooper announced he and Denise were expecting a child, but now that she's living and breathing, I see just how precious she is. A jewel in the family, I like to call her.

I hear the thuds of my mother's stilettos heading this way and I gulp- much like every does in the movie Devil Wears Prada when Meryl Streep strides in the room.

My mother appears in a black pencil skirt, a soft pink blouse, her hair pulled in a bun and her face hard as stone. Yup- she's made about something alright, and my guess is that she's going to blow up during this brunch.

Popcorns out! Because it's always entertaining when my mother outburst.

"Hi mum," I greet her.

"Blaine, I didn't realize you were here already. When did you arrive?" she ask in a clipped, and monotonous tone.

"Few minutes ago," I say, a little intimidated by her icy looking orbs.

"Good then," she smiled and it's tense. "Now we can all dine- together."

She hauls Denise and my father into the room. Brunches like this begun when my mother feels like she barely sees me, so she has Saturday brunch ins so we can catch up. Though I know she wanted this more for Cooper, not me.

"Honey, you look great today," my father compliments my mother and I suppress a chuckle.

"Well, I did use our money to get this top," she says without looking at my father.

"Oh- good, then," my father says, a little unsure of himself.

I glance over at my mother, and her face is nonchalant, a little tensed also. My father looks nervous, and all I wish is for him to come out with the truth already.

"This spread looks amazing," I change the subject, hoping a lighter one would do great.

"Blaine, how has work been?" my mother ask.

"Swamped- I've been swamped at work, thanks to this guy," I joke, referring to my father.

"Oh, your father never had any consideration for someone else's feelings," my mother says it like a stab knife on an open wound.

I share a glance with Denise, who bites her lower lip. My mother is so convinced of her assumption, yet it's hilarious because everyone on this table knows the actual truth. It kinda makes my mother look like a parody.

My father turns grim, unsure of where to go from there. He knows if he press on, my mother would confront him and he by then he will sure as hell be at a lost for words. I try to suppress my smile.

"How is your label going, mum?" I ask her about her fashion department store.

"Good," she says, a little too concise.

I can cut the tension in this room with a blunt knife, though most of it is radiating from my mother. We all dine in silence, quietly silencing our blueberry pies.

"So- urm, I have a small announcement to make," Denise says.

"Oh?" my mother's head rises, her eyes at Denise- as are all ours.

"Yes," she inhales. "I've recently been offered a job at the New York Times to be the new writer for their NY Woman With Kids column, and I'm going to take it," she tells.

"Denise that is terrific news," my father bellows, and my mother rolls her eyes at his tone. Damn, she really does despise him right now.

"What does that column even write?" my mother ask.

"Basically tips on raising children in New York, and my own experiences with raising a child without help, here in the city," she tells.

"Well, that sounds good, and you can count me as a daily reader. I'm proud of you," she smiles.

"I have also- urm, bought an apartment down at Greenwich Village, for Camilla and I."

"What?" my mother bellows in complete disapproval. "Why in the world would you buy an apartment there when you're living at a more than luxurious house here in the Upper East Side?"

"Eleanor, I have been very appreciative of you letting us stay here, and I will continue to be appreciative, but I think it's time I got my life together, raise my child in a home that I want to call my own, and- I don't know, maybe try to work things out with Cooper."

"Cooper is not in his right mind yet-"

"I know that," Denise says. "But he is the father of my child and despite the things he has done, his title remains. I cannot just keep his daughter from him, or keep Camilla away from her father. I need to work things out, for Camilla's sake."

"That's very noble of you, Denise," my father smiles.

"Like you would know anything about nobility," my mother scoffs and I know what's coming. My father sighs.

"Eleanor, we can talk later," he says calmly.

"You know what," my mother says and I begin to munch on my pie even more passionately now. Here's a good show. "Lets talk now, shall we."

"Eleanor-"

"I want to know exactly why you were in Chicago the other time, because you were sure as hell weren't doing interviews."

Denise sucks her lips into her mouth and sinks into a seat. She knows her announcement to everyone is long gone because now we have to watch my mother and father bucket, and probably the unveiling of a secret that might not end well.

"Eleanor, can we talk about this later-"

"Why not now?" she says heatedly. "Embarrassed to admit you had an affair in front of your son, hm? Embarrassed that your daughter in law might blame you for the way Coooper is? Embarrassed that your own grandchild will see you as the shrivelled excuse for a man that you are?"

"Why are you jumping into conclusions that I had an affair?" my father argues.

"Why else would you go to Chicago twice in two weeks, and for a number of days at that. Who is she, Richard?" my mother says, and my heart breaks a little at her small insecurity.

"There is no one-"

"Bullshit," she says. "What's her name? Where does she live exactly? How old is she even? Oh and while we're at the topic of talking about your hidden whore, I demand to know where did eight million dollars go from our bank account. Did you have to buy her silence? Or did you impregnate her?"

My eyes widen. A climax! Eight millions dollars? What could my father possibly have spent the money on? A car? A new apartment maybe? A ski chalet house? I watch with interest as the scene before me unfolds more.

"Eleanor, please-"

"I have a right to know! I am your wife! We shared vows, Richard."

"I know that-"

"Do you? Because vows are more profound than promises, yet you broke them anyway. Where did two million dollars go, and why did you go down to Chicago the other time, Richard?" my mother says in her authoritative, stern manner. She should not be messed when she is in this state.

"Eleanor-"

"You're cheating on me! You're cheating on me you bastard! You cheated, didn't you! That is why Cooper is that way, because his own father is not that far from the same fucking nature-"

"I had a cancer!" my father yells heatedly, and my mother's face falls into one of confusion.

"Wh-what?" she stutters.

"Can we talk about this upstairs?" my father she calmly.

"What do you mean you had cancer? What does had even mean!"

"Eleanor," my father warns, and he stalks away up the stairs.

My mother looks ashamed, confused and a little disoriented. She rises from her seat without another word and leaves for the second level with my father. I glance over at Denise, who glances back at me.

What's going to happen now.

--------

"Uncle Blainers, look!" Camilla shrieks to me, holding up her colouring book.

"You coloured out of the lines," I tell her.

She pouts and goes back to work, in full focus mode meticulously shading the elephant figure. Denise is on the couch across from me, biting her nails. Both of us nervous about what is transpiring upstairs. It's been over an hour.

"Do you think she's mad?" Denise ask me.

"I think she'll probably throw vases at him," I predict. "Hey, that news you told was great. Why didn't you say anything to me about The Times?"

"I wanted to announce it to everyone, I thought this brunch would be my best chance- but something else stole my thunder," she snickers. "Thanks, Blaine."

"Are you sure about Cooper though?" I ask nervously. "I mean, do you think it's time?"

"He's Camilla's father, Blaine," she sighs. "I don't know about you guys- but he's my family, and families don't hold grudges. No offence to you, though."

"I actually agree with you," I say, because that is the truth. I've been wanting to get in touch with Cooper, put everything behind us so I can help the Titanic that is my brother- my only brother at that. "We shouldn't hold grudges anymore, because he's family."

Denise smiles tiredly at me, then we hear the gentle sound of footsteps descending down the steps. We hold our breath, Denise and I waiting for who might come out from that corner- then my father appears. He sees me and sighs.

"She says she needs some time to process the information," he tells, before he turns to Denise. "Since it's out in the open, yes. I had cancer Denise-"

"Oh- I know," she says guiltily.

"You- know?" my father raises her brow.

"Yeah, well I was in your study once, trying to put back the book I loaned from you- and I saw something on your computer screen and it's just- I really didn't mean to look- hence why I'm moving out- I'm really sorry," Denise says.

"It's okay," my father assures. "Saves me the trouble of telling you, then."

He strides and takes a seat next to me and we all resume the dreadful wait for my mother. My father seems relaxed, relieved- but the full blown reaction of my mother still awaits.

"Dad, what did you do with eight million dollars?" I ask.

"I told you the surgery was pricey, because it hasn't been done before?"

"Yes, but 8 mil?"

"I also- wanted to invest on their practice. It was a success, they basically saved my life and I guess a part of me wants to help others too- so I invested six million in their practice."

"Now that- is noble," Denise smiles.

A few minutes- or hours- past, before we hear the all too familiar tell tale clatter of my mother's skyscraper heels.

My father stands when my mother appears from the corner. She looks at him, strides forward, her arms swing and her palms come in contact with my father's cheek with a deafening *smack*.

I gulp, so does Denise.

"How dare you kept that from me. I am your wife- of years! We have been through hell and high water together! How dare you kept that from me-"

"I just didn't want you to worry-"

"You don't get to make that decision! We made vows- in sickness and in health! What if the surgery didn't work? Would you have still kept it from me till you were laying on their death bed?"

"No-"

"I don't believe you! How can I trust you now that you couldn't even tell you that you could have died!"

"I was just trying to protect you!"

"No- you were trying to have your own way! Like how you always control things- but this is beyond your control. When you have cancer and you might die- you tell your wife!" my mother sobs, tears stinging in her eyes now and I know she's hurt, and scared. The exact reaction my father was in no doubt trying to avoid.

"You're right," my father breathes earnestly. "I'm sorry. I just- I didn't want to worry you when there was still hope."

"I want to be by your side- every step of the way, Richard. You know that."

"I'm cured now. I hope that relieves you," my father tries but my mother glares at him.

"I wish you had told me," my mother sighs, wiping her tears with her fingers. She looks so broken, curled into herself- fearful.

"Eleanor, I know- I know I should have told you. I know you deserved to know- I know you wanted to be by my side and throughout the whole waiting for the results period, I wanted nothing more than for you to be by my side- but I did not want to worry you, not until there was a reason to worry for. The surgery worked. I am cancer free, and I am going to live- with you, and I promise I will never do something like this again. Just like our vows, I promise to take my my partner through my battles. I am sorry, Eleanor, please forgive me," my father pleads, grasping lightly on my mother's wrist.

"You promise you're okay?" my mother silently sobs.

"I promise," my father says genuinely.

"You promise you're not cheating on me?"

"There is no other woman for me, than you."

My mother falls into my father's arms and she begins sobbing profusely, my father comfortingly rubbing down her back. It is a tearful sight, to be honest- like the climax part of the really bad cliché movie, but tearful nonetheless. My mother looked so hurt and scared at the same time it caused wounds in my heart.

I am glad that this is out in the open though. This means I can talk about it- my past fears- to more than just that one person.

-------

"Good morning, Blaine," Clara greets me on Monday morning.

"Morning," I respond. "How was your weekend?"

"Dreadful, actually. You swamped me with work, remember?"

"I'm sorry- it's just my dad's been giving us a lot of the paperwork lately I don't even know why."

"Usually when bosses gives extra work, it's to test you- in case he wanted to promote you or something. I don't know."

"Unlikely," I say because I'm already holding the highest position possible in this company. "I'll be in my office- no disturbance, please. I have a lot to do."

I leave her, and greet the pile of excessive paperwork I father left for me. My legs feel weary just look at them. I'm assuming all these are from the new elites that has opened up accounts in our company, but honestly I do no know. When you do the same thing every day, you somehow grow unconscious and zombified to your actions.

I am about to start on the first pile when my phone rings. I pull it out and it's Kurt. My heart has mixed feelings- Excitement? Dread? Nervous?

I pull myself together with a long, grounded inhale and press the answer button.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hi," Kurt says shyly.

"Hey."

An awkward silence follows us and I hate that. I hate feeling awkward with Kurt, but my subconscious is smiling because if Kurt still feels awkward, it means he hasn't forgotten about that drunken night, which somehow makes me smile.

"How are you?" he finally fills the silence.

"Fine," I say. "You?"

"Fine too," he says. "How is your dad doing?"

"Great- yeah, he told my mother."

"Oh my god, really? How did she react? Bad, I bet."

"She cried like Niagara Falls."

"Bad," Kurt sighs. "But at least she knows now, right?"

"Yeah," I say.

Another silence follows us. Awkward, but somehow just hearing his voice makes me smile like an idiot in my office, alone.

"How is Gabe?"

"That's awkward to ask," he says.

"This entire phone call feels awkward. Why the hell not."

"He's fine. We're fine," Kurt says.

"I'm glad," I say, though a part of me frowns even at my own words.

"Did Rachel sleep over your place on Friday night?" he ask.

"Yes, I think."

"You think?" Kurt prompts.

"I don't know. We got pretty wasted on bad beer that night."

"Did you make out with her this time?"

"That was a one time thing," I say and Kurt laughs- like the sweet, sweet melody it sounds.

"You would know a lot about one timers," Kurt says.

"Yeah, you do too."

Kurt is silent after my remark. "You know that was a drunken mistake," he says timidly.

"It was something, yeah," I say.

"What does that mean? You said the same thing the other night," Kurt presses.

'It means nothing, forget it," I say, because to be honest even I don't quite understand my words- but drunken mistake is not something I actually like to describe that night, and I don't know why. Were we drunk? I think. Was it a mistake? Again, it should be, but I don't know.

"I'll let you get back to work then," Kurt says. "I have class in ten minutes."

"Have a good day in school," I tell him.

"You too- work. Have a good day and work."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?" he says expectantly, and I smile to myself.

"I miss you- a lot."

A silence follows, and I know it's not awkward, because it more feels like he's processing my words. I know he misses me too, at least I think I do. I'm his best friend, he's mine- and that night of whatever that was changed everything. Now we're distant, fearful around in each though the reason is cloudy- or ignored.

"I miss you too," Kurt says and I feel that beating organ in my chest feel warm.

The line breaks, and somehow I feel uplifted after hearing his voice. I smile at that pile of work I have on my desk, because even though it is dreadful, and tedious, it feels more welcoming now that the start of my morning included a short talk with the person I most care about in this world.

------------

"Blaine?" Clara comes knocking on my door.

"Yes?"

"Your dad wants to see you in his office."

"Now? What time is it anyway?" I say, finally tearing my eyes away from the pile of contracts I've been reading and signing, and reading and signing like an endless maze.

"Yes, now. It's one o'clock."

"I skipped lunch?" my eyes go wide.

"Don't worry. So did I. I'll go down and grab your lunch. Hustle up there. Roberto sounds urgent."

"That was probably nervous talk," I wink. I leave my desk, emerge from my office from a long, long morning and head up to my father's office. Roberto smiles at my arrival.

"Hello Mister Anderson," he smiles widely.

"Hey," I greet him briefly, gesturing to the door, in which he nods.

My father is standing by the glass panel window, looking down at Manhattan. This sight gives me chills. It was the sight I came into when he wanted to tell me about his surgery. I don't know what I feel, but I can't tell if it's bad news or good news awaiting for me- though I sincerely hope it's the latter.

"Hi dad," I say and it gets his attention.

"Blaine," he breathes like an anticipated calling. "Have a seat, will you? There is something I have to discuss."

I gulp hard, though I don't know why yet- I can sense it's significant and profound- something life altering. Good or bad, is still indistinguishable. I carefully, fearfully and nervously make my way to the seat across from his very own Throne and await.

"Blaine," he starts and I feel myself oozing out of my pores. "After going through with this surgery, and having it miraculous work- I think my perception and my priorities have shifted," he says.

"What do you mean?" I frown at him.

"I've realize- the importance in my life, and though I am cured from cancer now, it does not change the fact that I am growing older, and probably weaker and sicker each day. I have realize, that the importance in life is truly family. Family is the one solid thing in your life, something that, no matter how much you want to distant yourself from, you can never truly cut ties. Hence, I've made a decision- came to a realization, at least. Maybe it is rational, and maybe it is too soon, but I am confident over this decision- and if you are willing to accept, then we will go through with this."

"Dad- you're kinda scaring me. What is it?"

He takes a long, deep breath as if what he is about to say is like a plaque that is hard to get out. I wait, slightly impatiently, on the edge of my seat. It is truly torturing when someone takes a second after leaves you hanging. Kinda like your favourite TV show where it ends off with a gunshot, but you don't know who got shot. After eons, probably, my father finally comes out with his words.

"I am going to be announcing my retirement, my resignation, and I am handing this whole company down to the person I now realize is the most capable, and truly trust worthy person I know. You."

My heart stops beating for a long period I could have probably died, but I don't. My eyes go wide, eyebrows shooting high up for the damn heavens if it even exist. I try to process the words- handing the whole company down..to me? Me? Blaine Anderson, youngest son, a twenty one year old?

"You want to resign?" I say.

"Yes," my father says calmly. "Maybe it is rash- but after being diagnosed with cancer, and then overcoming it with what I am calling a God sent surgery..I feel like I've been given a chance to truly live my life the way that I am suppose to. With my family, with my wife, with Camilla- even your brother."

"But dad..you're only like fifty two."

"I know," my father breathes. There is a smile on his face. "And after that experience, like I said, my priorities have changed. I know now what it's like to almost die, and through that experience, the company was not what I was worried for. It was your mother, you, your brother, Camilla, Denise- my family. If there was one lesson I can take away, it's that you have to always keep the people you love as close to you as possible, because you will never know when it is too late."

Somehow, my thoughts wander and the face of my bestfriend forms in my mind after that testament, but I am too invested in this information my father is telling me.

"But dad- this company is your legacy, your hardwork-"

"Precisely why I want to hand it down to you. I know now family is the most important thing in the world, making each day count- but at the same time, this company was what I build from the ground up, so I did not want to just hand it down to someone who is not of my family. Hence, you. I would want to hand it to your brother as well, but you came first in my mind after being diagnosed with cancer. You truly are the most reliable one, and though it was stupid of me at first to want to hand it down to Cooper, I now see that it is you that can truly maintain the strength, and power of Anderson's Banking Co."

"But dad-"

"Blaine," my father stops me. "I understand your hesitation. It is mostly on your fear of not being able to run this company, is it not?"

It was as if my father was on a war jet, and he just dropped a bloody nuclear bomb right in the spot. How the hell am I to run this company like he manages it so well? My father knows this company, the contacts, the clients- he was the one who started it for Christ's sake. I nod.

"I have confidence in you, Blaine. Those reports, and contracts and paperwork I asked you to do? Yes, well those are all the things essential for when you run this company, and you did them very smoothly. You will do this company justice, if not take it to the highest optimum level it can go."

"Dad, that's just- it's too much responsibility, and I don't think I can do it! Running a company? I am twenty one are you crazy! Sometimes I get my shoe laces mixed up, now you want me to run a whole bloody banking company," I basically rant.

This is crazy. I know I found it unfair that my father wanted to hand the business over to Cooper that one time, and sure part of me wished it was me- but now that that offer is staring right in my face- it feels more real now. More solid, and far more scary. I can't do it, my gut screams at me.

"Blaine, your humble nature is what will progress this company. You have no confidence in yourself, and you think you're going to fall flat on your face, but I know you won't. How do I know that? Because I was like you once. I kept telling myself there was no way I was going to accomplish this- no way in hell, but I did. I hate the same underestimation of myself as you do with yourself right now, but I know you can. Otherwise I would not be here telling you that I am giving up this position, for you to take over."

I contemplate my father's words. Humble nature? I am humble? I know myself, and fact I get a little caught up in myself sometimes. I am not like my father, even though sometimes I strive to be. He is the most successfully, powerful man I know- it's ridiculous to compare myself with him because..well because comparing myself to him would be like comparing that homeless outside Kurt's apartment with Donald fucking Trump.

"Do we have to decide on this now?" I ask.

"Well, if you decide you want to take over the empire, we will get it in writing by this week. But if you need some time to think about it-"

"Yes," I say. "I need some time."

"Well alright then," my father smiles.

"So if I don't claim this company, who will?" I ask my father.

"I have a few others in mind- but they are after you."

"Is Cooper one of them?" I ask nervously.

"Your brother- is another thing I called you in here for," he sighs.

I hold my breath this time. Longer, questioning myself why haven't I died from my hammering heart, and my constant holding of breath yet.

"We need to reconnect with your brother, and help him."

"I know," I say. "I've been thinking about that too."

"He's your brother, and my son- our family. No matter what he did, his title remains. It was wrong of us to abandon him after his mistake. Another realization from that close call of cancer. We have to help him, and we will together."

"How?" I ask.

"Track him down, give him the help he needs. Let your mother talk to him. Since Denise is ready to face him again, we have to support her as well. Like she said, for Camilla's sake. He is still his father as well. We have to help him, and I know that if we try, he will realize his mistake. I hope, at least."

"Okay," I suffice because I agree with everything my father has just said. "How is mum, anyway? After I left on Saturday, she was still pretty shaken up from what you told her."

"She is trying to process it. It was a mistake not to tell her sooner, I see that now. You can say I told you so..right about now."

I smile, because yes it was true. I knew from the start that we should have told my mother, kept her in the loop and stuff. Now she's scared for my father's life, though hopefully there is nothing to worry about, though I worry everyday that a rehash of his cancer might happen.

"Your mother and I- I should have realize that she is the love of my life, my wife, my best friend even. Sometimes I think back and wonder why the hell didn't I want her to know, considering she keeps me sane, gives me comfort- you know, how a best friend would."

"Best friend?"

"Yes, Blaine. Love always starts with the best from of friendships."

It was like an advice, words of wisdom on the mixed feelings I have these days on that drunken night. Love always starts with the best from of friendships? No, that can't be. Kurt is my best friend. That is it- that is him. Though I won't lie that said drunken night might have messed with my head a little- it can't be. He is Kurt.

"Well, I guess if you need some time to think about it, I'll give you a few days to," my father pulls me from my reverie, and I know it's because he is dismissing me. I rise from my seat and am about to leave the room when he says my name again.

"You have more potential than you realize, Blaine. I hope you see that."

I smile, nervously at him, self doubting myself, before I leave his office.

----------

I lay in my bed that night. Confused, scared, a little unsure of myself. Being a vice president is one leadership, like being a wrist on an arm- just there, for support- but running the whole damn business is like being a whole fucking hand- carrying everything.

I try to picture myself being the CEO, The President of Anderson's Banking Co.

Being on the highest floor, sitting on the biggest Throne. I know I've always said I'm the next heir for the throne, but this is crazy that it is actually just mere fingertips away from me. Do I want it? I always thought I did, but now that it's in front of me, it feels more intimidating than I thought it would be.

I search for solace, a reassurance- something to put me in a sane and stable mind. My thoughts wandering in no particular direction, but then it forms the picture of my best friend. Those blue eyes, those crazy blue, Bora Bora ocean, sky blue eyes and somehow it gives me some comfort. I pick my phone up, silently debating, contemplating whether it is a good idea, until I pluck up my courage and call him anyways.

"Blaine?" Kurt's gentle voice says through the speaker.

"Hi. Are you busy?"

He sounds in hesitation, but a muffling sound covers the speaker, and when I finally here clearly again, I hear the sound of New York's unmistakable traffic- sirens, and honks, and bustling. "What's wrong?" he as, and I love how he knows when something is stressing me out simply by my tone.

"If you're busy, it's okay," I say.

"I'm not, don't worry about it. What's wrong?"

I sigh, and even though I have my reservations now with us being awkward around each other, I know he will push through all the obstacles when I feel down, or am stressed out about something, because he is always there for me. Always.

"My father is going to be resigning from the company," I tell him. "And he wants to hand it to me."

"What?" Kurt says, in complete shock.

"That was my reaction," I tell him.

"Why does he want to resign?"

"Well, after the surgery worked, he feels that family is his priority, but he wants the company to remain it's glorious state or something, and he delusionally thinks that I can hold it up strong."

Kurt is silent, and I find myself wondering what he's doing, what he's thinking. Does he approve? Does he agree? Or is he going to confirm my doubts that I will be more of a liability to the company than an asset?

"Why is he delusional?" Kurt ask.

"Well- well because I'm me. Twenty one year old me- how the fuck am I going to run a whole damn business by myself? It's crazy talk."

"I admire your dad though, for his priorities now of being with his family. That was my dad's take away lesson from cancer too- that he should spent more time with us. That was why he took me and Finn and Carole and that cruise ship."

"The one where you were swimming and lost your trunks?"

"Don't remind me," he says, and I laugh at the memory. "But your dad is not wrong though, for wanting to hand the company to you."

"He is! Why is everyone crazy and not seeing what I am seeing? I am twenty one!"

"Yes, but you've always graduated early from M.I.T, you were amazing in high school, your brought in that 18 million dollar deal with a client you once told me- Blaine, it would be crazy to not want to hand it over to you. It was crazy to leave it to Cooper once, remember?"

"Yeah but- but it was natural that it was suppose to go to Cooper. He is older, and wiser- what am I?"

"You're an intelligent prick, who knows how to distinguish a reliable client more than anyone I know. You are the only twenty one year old in that Times magazines, the others were not as young as you were. Blaine, what you see, and what we see are complete parallels. Your father sees what I see- a young man, with intelligence far from his age. That is what I see."

"But-"

"But nothing, Blaine. You know you can do this, and even if you're unsure of yourself, you don't have to take the whole chunk at it is. You will learn on the job. Besides, you've had experience running a business before. You charged people six dollars for that lemonade stand you once started to help me get my bike, remember? I don't know how the fuck you managed to make people fork out six dollars for bad, bad lemonade but you did anyways."

"This is a banking company-"

"Of which you know how to manage more than anyone in that business. Take the opportunity, Blaine, because deep down, I know you know you can do it."

"I don't think I can-"

"I think it's not that you're afraid of handling the job- because you know you can do that- I think you're afraid of the comparison between your father and you. You're afraid you won't reach his level, and that everyone is going to compare the both of you, and deem you unworthy to be his son, and the first choice to take over the company, right?"

Just like the war jet and nuclear bomb again. Right in the heart.

"Blaine," Kurt sighs. "Maybe you are not as good as him, but that is why the company will progress further with your leadership. Because they will have a younger, fresher leader with a broader and more versatile way of thinking. You're creative, you will figure out new strategies to help the company, because that is you. I don't think he's handing you the company so you will be a carbon copy of him. He's handing it to you- so you can manage it, however you see fit."

"But what if I fall flat?" I say.

"Then you get back up again," Kurt says.

I ponder over this, Kurt's words. "You really think I can do it?"

"I wouldn't be telling you that you can run a damn company if I didn't know you can do it," Kurt says easily.

Maybe it's his words, or maybe it's his voice, or maybe it's from my best friend, but I somehow have confidence in myself now. Maybe I can do this- run the company, make the decisions, call the shots. It sounds like a load of job, but maybe I really can do this.

"Did that help?" Kurt ask.

"Yeah," I breathe. "It did."

"Good, I'm glad."

"You have so much faith in me it's nauseating."

"Shut up!" Kurt laughs, like the melody it is. "I do, okay. Because I know you can."

"Thank you, Kurt."

"I have to go now, okay? But let me know how it turns out. I hope I helped you," he says.

"You did," I say, though not mentioning the part about how his voice simply relaxes me.

"I hope to see you soon?"

"I hope so too."

"Goodnight," Kurt hums.

"Goodnight, Kurtie."

"You haven't called me that in a long, long time," he laughs.

"I forgot it's an adorable name.

"It's annoying."

"It's cute."

Kurt is silent, and I find myself again trying to wonder his thoughts. "Goodnight," I say and the line breaks.

I lay there, again with my heavy thoughts, though this time it's none about the company. Maybe I have sufficed on a decision thanks to the comforting words of my best friend, and though I still have my reservations, Kurt is right. Maybe I actually can do this. Run a damn company.

No, this time, my thoughts are wandering about my father's words; Love always starts with the best forms of friendships.

The description he used for my mother- how she comforts him, keeps him sane both physically, and mentally. Kurt is my rock, my everything if not my whole universe. He has always been my best friend, but to go with what my father said about comfort, and sanity- it led to love for my parents. Everlasting, strong love. A love so strong that my father is willing to let go of his empire, something he worked on with his bare hands from his young starting age, just to spend more time with her.

What does that mean then.

If Kurt, my best friend, my sanctuary sometimes, gives me comfort, keeps me sane at heart- does that mean it will lead to falling in love for us too? My mixed feelings, my incapability to forget about that night, how no sex has felt as good as sex with Kurt felt, how I still feel the ghost of his touch from where his hands went on my arms, and my chest, my neck, the phantom of his lips on mine, my dreams, the maladroit surrounding us, how I despise his boy friend, how he is always there for me, my protective nature- does that mean what I think it means?

Am I in love..with Kurt?