.

As Blaine came down for dinner, he didn't exactly feel the Christmas spirit the many decorations were trying to impose on him. He'd gotten so worked up about the image of his best friend's girlfriend picking him up from school that he seemed to be incapable of thinking of something else. He must have repeated Kurt's words in his head a thousand times by now - they had made so much sense yesterday, but right now they appeared hollow, clich�. The thought of not seeing Kyle for two weeks made him feel nauseous, and somehow the fact that Kurt would be leaving -both his house and Dalton- soon as well made matters seem infinitely worse.

All of these thoughts were wiped from his mind, however, as he approached the kitchen and heard the raised voices of his parents through the door.

"... just saying that I'll be happy when he's out the door," his father sounded unapologetic.

"Well, I'm not." His mother. "He's a good kid, and I think it's been really good for Blaine to have somebody like him, his age, to talk to."

Blaine could hear his father scoff.

"That's exactly why having him here h�sn't been good for Blaine. It only confirms him in that ridiculous belief that he can be whoever he wants to be."

"Of course he can!"

"He can't!" Michael Anderson's voice rose. "Oh, it all sounds so nice: dream big, be who you want to be, you are unique and perfect... that and all the other bullshit those actors and singers - especially that GooGoo Lady - are brainwashing them with, but it's not true! Or have you forgotten why Blaine -and Kurt, for that matter- had to change schools?"

"Of course I haven't! But just because some people didn't accept them doesn't mean that they are the ones who are wrong."

His mother sounded elated, and strangely bored, as if they'd had this discussion before.

"Maybe it doesn't, but the fact remains that those 'some people' are still the majority in this country, and Blaine is putting his future at risk by making the choices he is currently making! I don't even know which of those Hollywood actors started this despicable trend, but they don't realize how easy it is on them - they have made it, they don't depend on the approval of society anymore. Blaine just doesn't have the luxury to do the same!"

"You know very well Blaine didn't choose to be gay!"

"Oh God, not this again," Mr. Anderson groaned. "He chose to act on it, didn't he?"

Blaine winced when he heard the loud clang with which his mother put down her mug or glass or whatever it was she was holding. He knew her well enough to be able to imagine how she would turn around to face his father, her eyes no doubt blazing with anger.

"Why can't you just accept him? He's a straight A student, he's lead singer of his school choir, he basically succeeds in everything he tries, so why can't you just be proud of him?"

"You forgot to mention how he ran from his previous school, and how he just gave up jumping - he's not mister perfect, Barbara."

"They hit him so badly he had a concussion, Michael. A concussion! Did you really expect him to go back to th�t? The question still stands: why can't you be on his side instead of theirs?"

"Look, all I'm saying is I don't want this whole... gay thing to turn out to have been a phase, because once that is out there, he cannot take it back. And he needs to understand exactly what he's going to face once he leaves his little Dalton bubble!"

"Oh, yes, that makes so much sense. Hasn't it crossed your mind he might be able to face things better if he had a father that actually supported him?"

"I LOVE MY SON!" Mr. Anderson thundered, slamming his fists on the table so hard Blaine could hear the door rattle in its frame. "So don't you dare insinuate I do not support him!"

For a few seconds, it was completely silent, and Blaine thought his father might have actually left the kitchen through the other door when he heard him speak again, much quieter now.

"I would do everything I could to make sure Blaine is happy - I would. I'm just trying to be realistic. The world is a hostile place. And when his dreams have come true and he's a world famous singer songwriter he can go and love whoever he wants - hell, he can marry the Loch Ness monster for all I care, if it makes him happy. But right now he's seventeen, and things will be hard enough out there as it is - he does not have the luxury to just be... gay. So why is it so wrong to want a normal life for him?"

"Michael, please..."

"No, Barbara, no. I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me how I should treat my son, how I should 'accept' him if I truly love him. Because it is exactly because I love him that I cannot accept how he possibly throws away so many chances and opportunities by letting his feelings get in the way of his future. And I don't care what you say, I will not apologize for wanting the best for my son."

This time, Blaine heard his father's footsteps come in his direction, and he quickly ducked away behind a corner. But even after his dad had passed him, he stayed there, crouched against the wall.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard his parents argue, and he doubted it would be the last. It was just what they did. He'd never walked in on them discussing him, though. And while it had been... interesting... to hear exactly how his father thought about him being gay (some of his father's previously hurtful statements were actually starting to make sense now), that wasn't what had shocked Blaine the most.

He'd never heard his dad say he loved him before.

He had supposed he did, because, well, that was what fathers did, after all. He had hoped he did, despite the obvious differences in opinion of... lifestyle choices, to put it that way. But he had never actually heard him say the words, never actually heard his dad say that he wanted Blaine to be happy.

"Blaine?"

Blaine looked up to see Kevin standing over him, looking confused. He quickly scrambled up.

"I was just... eh... just... sitting here," he stuttered, not sure what kind of explanation would justify his sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway.

"Maybe you should try sitting in the living room instead?" Kevin suggested, eyebrows raised. "It might be slightly more comfortable. Not to mention more sociable."

Blaine cracked a small smile.

"Of course. I was just on my way actually." He pointed to the living room door, shuffling towards it. "To the living room!"

Kevin shook his head as he watched Blaine slip through the door. There were many adjectives that came to his mind when he tried to describe Blaine, but 'normal' never was one of them.

.

The rest of Christmas Eve passed rather uneventful - uneventful for an Anderson Christmas, at least. Blaine blaimed the presence of Burt and Kurt - not that he was complaining: it was nice to have an ordinary Christmas Eve for once, without drama. Just eating turkey, unwrapping presents, singing christmas carols with Kurt, seeing their parents get slightly drunk... . It was so simple that it felt almost ridiculous to be grateful for it, but after the Thanksgiving disaster it was all Blaine could ask for, especially since he knew that in a couple of days, the soothing influence of the Hummels would be gone. And so he enjoyed the evening for as long as it lasted.

"I think that's the last one."

Blaine heaved the box into the back of Kurt's Navigator, closing the door carefully. Usually, Kevin would take on the task of packing and moving everything, but Blaine had insisted he helped the Hummels himself. He had lost track of the number of trips they'd made back and forth over the last two days -seriously, how much stuff could two people gather over the course of only three months?-, but now, finally, Kurt and Burt's room was empty, and Kurt was ready to leave to Lima where his dad was waiting for him.

"Thanks," Kurt said, smiling nervously. "I guess we're ready to go, then!"

He looked up at Blaine, trying to hide how his fingers were tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously, how desperately he wanted to hug Blaine before they left. They'd hugged plenty of times before, obviously, but somehow this was different, more definite. He didn't want it to be goodbye.

Before he could decide what to do, however, Blaine pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him.

"You take care of yourself, ok?" Blaine whispered in his ear before he broke away from him. "You'll always be my brother, so if something happens -anything-, let me know, ok?"

Kurt nodded, but Blaine cupped his face with both hands, forcing Kurt to look him in the eyes.

"Promise?"

"Promise," Kurt breathed.

"Good," Blaine tapped Kurt's cheek before he completely let go of the boy, "now you go remind McKinley who Kurt Hummel is!"

Kurt smiled, forcing himself to turn around and climb into the car. He waved as he pulled out of the drive way, and when he turned on the street, he could see Blaine wave back, bending his hand so it looked like a "C". Kurt had seen coach Sylvester make the gesture one too many times after Sue's Corner, but coming from Blaine, Kurt knew what it meant.

Courage.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Kurt cheered as the confetti whirled around him. He blew the kazoo somebody had pressed into his hands just seconds ago, jumping up and down along with the others. Mercedes gave him a broad smile as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Happy New Year, white boy!" she yelled, trying to make herself understandable over the music and all the cheering.

"Happy New Year to you too, 'Cedes!" he yelled back.

He watched her bounce over to Sam and Finn to wish them happy New Year as well, but turned around when he caught sight of Mike and Tina making the most of their New Year's kiss, only to be greeted by the sight of Puck and Lauren making out. He sighed. This was definitely a part of the celebration he had n�t been looking forward to.

He suddenly froze when he felt two arms closing in around him from behind.

"I can't kiss you, but maybe you could spare me a New Year's hug?" a familiar voice sounded in his ear, and he spun around to find himself looking into a pair of hazel brown eyes.

"Well?"

Blaine looked at him questioningly, and Kurt nodded ("Of course."), fighting the urge to swallow the lump that had grown in his throat in a matter of seconds. He let his foster brother wrap his arms around him, returning the hug a little more reluctantly.

"You know, I've already missed you in those five days you were gone," Blaine told him, "the house is so empty without you."

They pulled apart, and Kurt was frantically trying to think of a snarky reply, a sarcastic remark -anything to distract him from the whirlwind of feelings in his stomach- when he was saved by Tiago tackling him.

"The happiest of New Years to you, Kurt!"

It had been Mrs. Anderson's idea, really, to invite both the Warblers and the New Directions to the party. It will be a great way to say goodbye to Dalton, and hello to McKinley, she had said, and at least if you're both here I know you won't be getting into trouble. Kurt and Blaine both knew that what she really meant was she didn't want them getting drunk -the extremely limited amount of wine coolers she had allowed them to stock in the bar was more than enough proof- but with both Puck and David invited, enough bottles of party juice had found their way in to ensure no-one would be forced to stay sober.

It seemed to take forever for everyone to wish each other the best for the new year, but finally, people started dancing again, and Kurt watched Thad pushing past him as he went straight to Rachel.

"Well, hello there beauty," he winked at her, a faint slur already apparent, "would you care to dance with me?"

He held out his hand for Rachel to take, and she immediately obliged, only slightly hesitating when she caught the hurt look Finn was sending her from across the room.

"I would love to!"

Kurt left them to it and made his way to one of the couches. Thad wasn't the only Warbler who was mesmerized by the New Directions girls, he saw, as Jeff seemed to have taken a particular liking on Tina and was now trying to impress her by conjuring up coins from behind her ear. Judging from the sour look on Mike's face, it was actually working, too. Most of the boys were focussed on the stage, however, where Santana and Brittany were demonstrating they would make one hell of a Pussycat Doll when they grew up. Actually, scratch that - they already w�re one hell of a Pussycat Doll.

"Does it show there are no girls at Dalton?"

Kurt felt Blaine fall in the couch next to him and smiled up at him.

"It's painfully obvious, I have to say. And you seem painfully sober. I thought you'd be the go-all-out party animal type, and instead you're drinking... ," Kurt gestured at Blaine's cup, "coke?"

"Oh, I'll totally go all out, don't worry," Blaine laughed, "but I'd rather do it sober tonight. I don't want to lose the privilege to organize parties before I earned it and I'm pretty sure appearing hungover at breakfast would do just that."

He winked and Kurt quickly looked away, focussing instead on David and Trent who were fighting over which song they'd do next - 'I'm too sexy' by Right Said Fred, or The Offspring's 'Pretty fly'. Trent unsurprisingly drew the short straw ("I don't care if Blaine has performed songs by black women, I am NOT singing I'm a 'white guy'!") and soon David's baritone filled the room.

I'm too sexy for my love
too sexy for my love
love's going to leave me...

By the uncoordinated way David was moving Kurt wasn't surprised that the 'love was going to leave him', but then again, what did he know. The girls seemed to appreciate the performance though and that was obviously the goal, so he guessed it was all good.

"And now I want to dance with my girl Brittany!" David shouted through the microphone when he'd finished the song. "Kurt! Sing!"

Kurt's head snapped up.

"What, me? Why?"

"Because I say so! Sing us something! Something slow and romantic!"

"Something French!" Nick shouted from where he was still flirting with Tina.

David jumped off stage and all but in Kurt's lap, causing the countertenor to throw up his hands in surprise, looking down with horror in David's puppy eyes. Kurt had gotten used to more physical contact with boys since going to Dalton - pats on the shoulder, elbow nudges and even hugs, although the latter really only ever happened with Blaine - but a boy in his lap was definitely a first.

"Please?" David pleaded before dropping his voice to a whisper. "I just really wanna slow dance with Brittany."

"Santana will scratch your eyes out."

"It will be worth it," David insisted. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Something romantic?"

David's head bobbed up and down.

"In French?"

More bobbing, and Kurt sighed.

"Ok then, get out of my lap."

"I love you!"

David pressed a wet, sloppy kiss on Kurt's cheek before he gave in to the request, and Kurt quickly rose up, wiping his cheek with his sleeve with a look of disgust on his face. He saw Blaine grinning at him and shot him a death glare before he made his way to the stage. Something romantic. And French. Well, that shouldn't be too hard, should it?

.

Si tu crois un jour qu'je t'laisserai tomber
pour un d�tail, pour une futilit�
n'aie pas peur je saurais bien
faire la diff�rence

Kurt looked around the room to the couples slowly dancing to the music. Much to his surprise, David was still holding on to Brittany. Puck and Lauren were not so much dancing as they were keeping each other up, and Jeff was looking miserable as a smug Mike was guiding Tina around the dance floor.

Si tu crains un jour qu'je t'laisserai f�ner
la fin de l'�t�, un mauvais cap � passer
n'aie pas peur personne d'autre n'pourrait
si facilement te remplacer

"Boy can sing, can't he?"

Blaine looked aside to see Mercedes slide on the couch next to him. The song wasn't particularly challenging for Kurt's voice, but Blaine couldn't imagine anyone else to bring the same vulnerability to the song as Kurt did, so he nodded.

"You know, I used to have the biggest crush on him," Mercedes sighed, looking at Kurt so dreamy-eyed Blaine was wondering for a second if the past continuous was the right tense to use in this case. He followed her stare and found himself smiling.

"I can see why," he said, "he's a wonderful person. I envy the guy who finds the way to his heart."

To his surprise, Mercedes started giggling uncontrollably, making him suspect the wine cooler she was holding wasn't exactly her first.

"Oh please, Blaine," she poked his ribs with her elbow, "like you don't know you're already there. I'm just warning you... ," she leaned closer to him, lifting her finger at him as if he was a toddler, "you break his heart and I will break your skinny. white boy. legs."

For some reason, this sent her in a new giggling fit, but Blaine hardly paid attention - he felt his jaw drop as he stared at her.

"He... you... I... I mean, wh�t!"

But Mercedes was already gone, taking the hand Trent was offering her.

"Ooooooh... gotta go!"

She let herself be dragged on the dance floor, giving Blaine a little wave before she left him sitting on the couch, feeling thoroughly confused.

Did Mercedes just tell him that Kurt was... in love with him?

Oh non pas toi
vraiment pas toi
parce que j'avoue j'suis pas non plus tent�
d'rester seule dans un monde insens�

His mind slowly filled with memories - Kurt blushing when Blaine complimented him, Kurt only slowly relaxing whenever they would hug, Kurt switching subjects every time Blaine would pry if there wasn't a boy he particularly liked. He had blamed it on Kurt's inexperience and natural reserve, had never even once considered this other possibility, this scenario that suddenly explained things so much better. It wasn't that Blaine wasn't attracted to Kurt, he was, and he loved him like a brother, he had t�ld him that and... oh god...

Blaine groaned, burying his face in his hands. How could he have been so blind? As he opened his eyes again, he caught Kurt looking at him. It was only a moment, but the timing was too perfect to have been a coincidence.

Parce que c'est toi

Blaine hadn't paid attention to the song too much before -despite Kurt's tutoring his French was all but solid- but this much he understood.

Because it's you

To be fair, there was little need for translations - the look in Kurt's eyes confirmed everything Mercedes had hinted at and for some reason Blaine had to fight the urge to run to the stage, to take Kurt in his arms, to ask him why he never said anything and ... apologize. Or something. He felt his heart sink as he though about all the times he had teased Kurt, never shying away from physical contact, how they had always talked about everything, about... Kyle... .

It was as if the horror of the situation only now hit him full in the face when he remembered the conversation he had had with Kurt not even two weeks ago. How had Kurt survived that talk? How had he found the strength to even initiate it? Blaine thought about how Kurt had all but fled the coffee shop afterwards, and he cringed again as he realized how hard it must have been for his little brother. And he... he'd flirted with him. He'd asked for a New Year's hug. He'd told him he missed him.

He stood up abruptly, making for the door. He needed some fresh air - stat.

.

Kurt saw Blaine push through the crowd, walking out of the room. He felt a bit hurt - sure, he understood Blaine might need to go to the bathroom or go get something, maybe, but did he really have to do it right during his song? As his eyes scanned his audience he caught sight of Mercedes. She looked relaxed, dancing closely to Trent, and he figured there might be something in the making there when she caught Kurt's eye and gave him two thumbs up.