Kurt helps Blaine complete and send off the last of his college applications. Blaine does so with an uneasy feeling, completely unsure of what he’ll do should he get accepted anywhere. But Kurt had made a good point.

What’s the harm in applying?

So he applies and life fades back into some semblance of normal, going to school, going to Glee, picking up Bethany and doing their homework. On Saturdays, Blaine will bundle Bethany up in her warmest winter coat and a fluffy pink scarf Carole had given her, and follow her to the park across the street. Blaine doesn’t mind the cold so much, not when Kurt’s there on the park bench beside him. In fact, he quite likes having an excuse to sit as close as possible, glove-covered hands intertwined.

“I used to day dream,” Blaine says, nuzzling his nose into the warmth of Kurt’s neck.

“Hmm? About what?”

“Something like this,” Blaine sighs as he drapes his leg over Kurt’s thigh in an effort to get even closer. “Sitting on a park bench with you during winter. Except – except we’re not here.”

Kurt extends one arm around Blaine’s shoulders, tugging him closer and pressing a sweet kiss into Blaine’s hair. “Where were we?” he asks. “In your day dream?”

“Central Park,” Blaine admits softly. “We’re sitting there, just like this, before it snows for the first time that season. We’re happy and we’re surrounded by people who don’t care if we hold hands. And – but-”

“But what?”

Blaine worries his chapped lips between his teeth. “But we’re looking out over another playground. And Bethany’s there. We tell her it’s almost time to go home and she rolls her eyes and I don’t really want to go because it’s so nice there, on that bench, but it’s nearly time for dinner so we have to.”

Feeling a kiss on his temple, Blaine finally looks up and catches Kurt’s eyes for the first time during the entire admission. “Am I stupid?”

“No,” Kurt says swiftly. “Because if you’re stupid, then I’m just as stupid, and I don’t think we’re stupid at all.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I think about things like that all the time,” Kurt tells him, trailing a cold finger over Blaine’s jaw. “I think about the three of us living in New York and I think about us being late when we pick up Bethany from school, just because we’re too caught up in kissing each other at home and…well, things of that nature.”

“Oh, really?” Blaine teases, scraping his nails over the inseam of Kurt’s jeans.

“I’m a teenager and I’m hormonal,” Kurt states. “You can’t fault me for that.”

“Trust me,” Blaine says before kissing the corner of Kurt’s mouth, “I don’t fault you at all.”

“You’re home,” Blaine says, astonished to see his mother sitting on the sofa so early on a Saturday evening when he walks into their house.

Bethany shrugs off her coat, tossing it near the hook on the wall and missing by a mile. Blaine rolls his eyes, picking it up from the floor and hanging it properly.

“Go take your bath, Bethbee,” Blaine says.

“Do I have to?” Bethany groans in argument.

“If you want to go to the Christmas carnival with us tomorrow, yes.”

“Ugh, fine.”

She stomps off, her little boots dragging the ground as she heads for the bathroom. When Blaine hears the door close and the shower running, he hangs his own coat and slumps down on the couch next to his mom.

“Where were you?” Kathy asks, eyes locked on the television screen.

“Eating dinner at Kurt’s. What’re you doing home so early?”

“I do live here, too, you know,” Kathy states. “I can be here whenever I want.”

“Yeah, well, you’re usually out getting drunk and in the process of bringing home some strange guy on Saturdays. Forgive my surprise.”

“Do you ever hear the way you talk to me?” Kathy asks, finally turning to look Blaine in the eye. “I don’t know where you picked up that smart mouth, but one of these days it’s going to get you in trouble.”

“It’s not like I ever had my mother around to scold me during my rebellious teenage years. I’ve picked up some habits.”

“You’re a broken record, I swear to god,” Kathy mumbles. “I’m not a bad mother.”

“Just an absent one.”

“I was always there for you. If I had the time, I’d be here for Bethany, too.”

“You have the time,” Blaine says. “You just choose to spend it elsewhere while I raise your daughter alone. You could be here. She had a Christmas concert at school last week, did you know? She told you about it and you put it on the calendar. But you didn’t show. Bethany asked me if you stopped loving her. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to an eight year old that our mother doesn’t want to be around us anymore without breaking her heart?”

“Fuck you.”

“Right back at you, mom,” Blaine says pointedly before standing, already tired of the conversation. He never gets anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he bothers anymore.

“You’re the most ungrateful prick of a son, did you know?”

“Maybe I’d be a bit more grateful if I had a mother I could actually respect,” Blaine returns. “But I guess that’s a lost cause.”

“And what, exactly, have I done, that is so undeserving of your respect? Does it have anything to do with the fact that I work all the time to put food in our kitchen? Or keep this house? Or keep the electricity on? Or does it have to do with the money I give you every single week without you ever having to work for a penny of it?”

“Without having to work for it?” Blaine asks incredulously. “Are you serious right now? I might as well be a live in nanny for your kid! Bethany isn’t even my daughter, but I’m the one that makes sure she eats three meals every day! I’m the one who makes sure she gets home from school safely. I’m the one who watches her every fucking day during the summer. I’m the one who doesn’t get any time to myself unless Kurt’s parents are nice enough to take her for a couple of hours so we can go on a date. You may have it rough, answering phones and taking messages eight hours a day, but I’m the one who is raising your child during those eight hours and after! She comes to me in the middle of the night when she has nightmares. She expects me to make her dinner. She knows I love her. She knows that I won’t ever leave her the way you constantly do!”

At that, Blaine’s mother gives an awful, vicious scowl. Blaine’s pulse races and he’s not sure if it’s out of fear or anger. There is, of course, the possibility that it’s due to both. Kathy looks like she just caught her prey in her claws.

“As if you’re not planning to get away,” Kathy says blithely. “I know you, Blaine. I’m not an idiot. The moment you graduate, you’ll be gone. You can’t wait to get out of this house.”

“You’re damn right, I can’t!” Blaine explodes. “The moment I can get away from you, I’ll be out the door and I won’t ever look back!”

“Blainey?”

Oh god.

The blood in Blaine’s veins turns ice cold at the sound of his baby sister’s timid voice. How much did she hear?

“You’re – you’re leaving?” Bethany asks from her spot in the archway of the hall, dressed in her favorite Christmas pajamas with soaking wet hair, looking all of about five years old.

“No, I’m-” Blaine pauses to shoot his mother a glare, “-of course, I’m not.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said,” Blaine says, rushing over to kneel in front of Bethany. “But I promised, remember? I won’t leave you.”

“But you’ll finish school soon and you – you won’t be here anymore,” Bethany reminds, tears welling in her large, frightened eyes. “You wanna go away!”

“No, no, I don’t want to go away from you, Bethbee.”

“Yes, you do!” Bethany argues, nearing hysterics at the thought of being abandoned. “You – you don’t like being around me so much because we – we fight all the time and you don’t like it when I won’t take my bath and you like Kurt better and you won’t ever dance with me when I ask and-”

“Beth, I love you,” Blaine insists. “I won’t ever-”

“You hate me!” Bethany shouts. “You hate me and you’ll leave, just like daddy!”

With that, she spins around, almost tripping over her too-long pajama pants in her haste to get away. Blaine hears her sob. The sound causes his heart to shatter into pieces at his feet. Her bedroom door slams shut.

“Great,” Blaine mumbles before standing and turning to face his mother. “Thank you. As if she didn’t have abandonment issues before.”

“Well at least it won’t come as a shock when you leave,” Kathy says in a hard tone.

With his heart in pieces, Blaine doesn’t have anything to hold him back when he snaps.

“You – you are such a vindictive bitch!” Blaine hollers. “Just because dad left you, you think it’s okay to ruin our lives! Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”

“He never would’ve left if it hadn’t been for you!” Kathy declares.

“It’s not my fault that I’m gay!” Blaine yells, remembering Kurt’s words. “It’s his fault for being such a closed-minded bigot and it’s his fault for hitting me! I was just a kid! I was just trying to be honest with my family, you know, the people who are supposed to love you no matter what?”

“And that honesty fucked up any chance we ever had of having a good life!”

“Bethany has a good life,” Blaine states. “Because I’ve been here for her and I’ve given her one. She may not have dad, but she has me.”

“She’s my kid!”

“She won’t be,” Blaine declares. “Not for much longer.”

“What do you think you’re talking about?”

“I’m taking Bethany with me,” Blaine says. “She’s going with me and Kurt after we graduate.”

“Like hell, you are!”

“You just wait and see.”

“You can’t take my daughter away from me!” Kathy screeches.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get her away from you. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will. You aren’t fit to be a mother, not anymore.”

“If you think you can just-”

Kathy’s retort is cut short by the squealing of tires and a loud crash signaling some kind of impact outside in the street. Christ, this will be the second time in two weeks that someone has run the stop sign outside their house. Blaine pinches his lips together, still furious at his mother but willing to put off the inevitable fight in order to check and see if someone’s been hurt. He can feel his mother’s eyes glaring against his back as he wrenches open the door.

“HELP!” a man cries as he clambers out of his SUV. “HELP!”

Several of their neighbors have come out of their homes as well to inspect the accident.

“What happened?” a woman asks, rushing over to the man as she tightens her robe against the chilly winter air. “Are you alright?”

“I’m – I’m fine,” the man stammers, stumbling over to the front of his car. “But I think – oh, god.”

The woman screams, promptly turning away and covering her mouth with a trembling hand.

“Some – someone call the police!” the man shouts wildly, looking around at all of the people gathered outside. “Someone call 911!”

“What’s going on?” Blaine asks, trotting over to one of their neighbors as someone else runs inside to make the call.

“Looks like he ran a stop sign and hit someone,” the neighbor answers. “I think it was a little…you – you have a sister, right?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. “She’s in her room, though.”

“And you’re – you’re sure?”

Blaine nods because yes, Bethany just ran into her room not fifteen minutes ago. She’s probably scared to death now, though. That was a horrible, loud sound. He glances once more at the car in the street; he can’t see the front of it, thank god. He doesn’t do so great when it comes to blood. Blaine walks back into his house, ignoring his mother and heading straight for Bethany’s room. The light is still on, he can see, and he gives a few sharp knocks.

“Bethany?” he calls.

No answer.

“Beth?”

Nothing.

Thinking that she’s probably in her closet because that’s where she always goes when she hears someone fighting, Blaine pushes open her bedroom door to find her room empty and her closet door wide open.

As well as her window.

Blaine Anderson has been pretty scared over the course of his young life. He’d been afraid every day when he walked into his old public school. He’d been scared when he came out to his family and when his father hit him.

But this – this sheer, unbridled, bone-numbing terror – this is hell.

Blaine tears out of Bethany’s room as fast his legs can carry him, past his mother, out the front door, and through the crowd of horrified onlookers.

“Bethany!” he screams in fear. “BETHANY!”

A small body on the pavement, a mass of dark, curly hair, a cherished set of Christmas pajamas, and too much blood flowing from her young veins.

Blaine falls to his knees.

“B-Bethbee,” he whimpers, a broken whisper in the winter wind.

No, he thinks. No. No, he was supposed to read her a bedtime story and she wanted to go to the Christmas carnival with them tomorrow and Blaine was going to get her hot chocolate and cookies and win her a stuffed animal and he was going to throw her a princess party for her birthday in February and they were going to get away. They were going to have a good life in a big city and he was going to watch her grow up and Kurt was going to make her wedding dress and – and this – this is wrong, everything is wrong, it can’t be her.

It can’t be his little sister. Not her. Please, god, not her.