As it turns out, Kurt’s healthy heart pancakes are actually mouth-wateringly good, of course I didn’t know that when he gave me a choice of having either his healthy-heart pancakes or the pancakes which he dubbed ‘the tempting slices of death.’ In the end I chose the healthy option because their billing was much more favourable and because Kurt kept giving me a look that said: don’t you dare pick the ones dripping in chocolate sauce because I will cut you with my words and statistics. So, I played it safe but I couldn’t help but stare at Finn and Puck as they pushed eager forks into their tempting slices of death.

I feel bad about it now but I wasn’t expecting much as I cut a pancake up, stabbed at it with my fork and put it in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting it to taste like the best thing I had ever eaten. Kurt watched for my reaction and he smiled knowingly as I looked at him, a quick, unspoken ‘I told you so.’ lingering in his eyes.

The whole kitchen was vibrant with choral chatter and a distinctive familiarity which occasionally descended into comfortable banter. I had a wonderfully gratifying time just being a small part of such a huge, thriving family dynamic. I was left in awe when I realised that I could ask other people to pass me the orange juice and they would, with a smile. I was blown away when every single person at the table included me in the conversations they were having with other people. I felt so acknowledge. I felt like I really mattered and I‘d never felt so at ease. My heart thudded deep inside my chest when I realised that I could smile and laugh and actually mean it for once.

Breakfast this morning was beautiful, which is important to remember, because by saying that it’s clear that all of the fault lies within me. They haven’t set a single foot wrong; in fact, they’ve all gone out of their way to include me in everything. Which is why I feel so awful when I admit that sometimes, when I was left with my own thoughts for more than thirty seconds, my mind drifted and I became obsessed with the notion that I didn’t belong there. All I could think, in the interludes of casual conversation, was how I’m probably better suited to mornings where I don’t get to eat breakfast, I don’t have to make conversation and I dash from my bedroom to the front door.

It’s not that I want to go back to my father.

It’s not that.

It’ll never be that.

I don’t ever want to see him again, I don‘t. I‘m extremely relieved that it’s all over and that he can‘t hurt me anymore. Who wouldn’t be happy about that? I just don‘t feel like myself today, I‘ve got my whole future ahead of me and I‘m still hung up on my past and how scared I‘ve been for so long. It doesn’t seem real. I doesn’t seem possible that what I went through, for so many years, can be over just like that. All it took was one phone call and a handful of caring people and everything has changed. It’s all changed so quickly. Maybe even too quickly. My brain can’t catch up.

I feel guilty for feeling so lost because that must mean I’m being ungrateful and unappreciative and after everything that makes me sound like such a terrible human. I’m finally free and safe and cared for and I can’t stop wondering if this is the right thing for me after all. I know what happened to me everyday, at the hands of my father, I felt the punches and the kicks, I listened to the monstrous filth that came out of his mouth. I know that I’m still terrified of him. I know that he humiliated me. But there’s still a part of my brain that can’t detach itself from that house and I feel awful about that. There’s a part of me that almost misses it and that thought alone makes me wonder if I‘m just as sick as my father because why would I almost miss being battered half to death?

Then there’s another, possibly bigger, part of me and it’s absolutely petrified because I don’t know if I’m good enough to be a normal, healthy teenage boy, whatever that means. I’m not sure that I’m good enough to be happy. I’m probably over thinking this but some of it could be true. Couldn’t it? I thought leaving that house would make me feel better but now I feel worse because I can‘t stop thinking that maybe some of it was my fault and maybe a part of me deserved it.

I think of Kurt then, the same Kurt that tells me I’m perfect and beautiful and deserving and a fresh wave of shame washes over me because what would he say if he could hear the thoughts I’m having? He’d be so hurt, he’d be heartbroken.

I’m better than this, that‘s what Kurt would tell me and that’s what Puck would say too. He told me I wouldn’t feel okay straight away didn’t he? Maybe it is okay then. Maybe what I’m feeling is just part of a weird process.

I remember Burt then too, telling me that I did everything right and I try to push those intrusive thoughts out of my head. I focus on the present. I’m okay. I’m just having a hard time. I’m just confused. I’m just scared of the unknown and that’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

I take a deep breath.

It still doesn’t feel quite right, sitting in the mall with Kurt and Carole on a Saturday morning drinking ice cold dye-blue slushies but maybe it’s not wrong for the reasons I fear. For example, maybe this just feels wrong because of something trivial, like the fact that I’m not wearing my own clothes and I had to squeeze myself into a pair of Kurt’s skin-tight jeans this morning. Maybe that’s it. Kurt’s clearly taller than me and his thighs are obviously slimmer than mine and it’s all a bit awkward, me wearing his jeans, because they’re a few inches too long and quite a bit tighter than I’m entirely comfortable with. I feel too exposed and while I know that Kurt can pull this look off flawlessly I’m not so sure that I have the body for it. I’m not sure that this is me, I’m not sure who I am right now.

I pick nervously at the loose threads of the burgundy cardigan that Kurt found for me, as he and Carole talk animatedly about a dress she probably ought to buy because it both slims her and brings out her eyes. I watch as they smile at one another across the table and share looks that scream I really do love you. I don’t know why but that bothers me. I think it could be because I feel like I’m intruding on an important bonding session between a step-son and a step-mother. Deep in my heart I know that I’m not, I know that I was invited and that Kurt’s not the type to just indulge people. If he didn’t want me here I wouldn’t be here. Besides, the smiles he keeps giving me are heart warningly genuine. I need to relax, I need to stop thinking. I’m making things worse than they actually are. I wish I could just stop myself and enjoy this.

“Well,” Carole says eventually, breaking my train of thought as I suck the last of my slushie through the straw, “I have to run a few errands now but I’ll meet you boys back here in about an hour?”

She smiles softly at me, happiness reaching her eyes, before she gathers her belongings and stands, tucking her chair under the table and bidding us both a final farewell.

“I miss you already!” Kurt all but sings as Carole passes him and pats him once on the shoulder before vanishing into a crowd of people. The hum and buzz of the multitude hitting me for the first time as I watch them walk in all of their different directions.

Kurt turns his attention back to me then and he looks so blindingly faultless today, his posture is as perfect as always, his clothes are as complimentary as ever, his smile is so bright it’s contagious. Though, more than anything, he looks so comfortable existing in his own skin and I’m so proud of him for that. I’m so overwhelmingly proud of his confidence and his candour and that I had a small part in it. Kurt is everything I hope to be, he’s so self-assured, he’s so brave and he’s so beautiful.

“So, Blaine” Kurt starts cheerily, reaching out a steady hand and placing it on top of mine, “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do while we‘re here?”

“Not really.” I say honestly because it’s true, I could follow him around all day quite happily. It’s not like I have any money to spend.

“Oh, okay.” Kurt says and he sounds a little disappointed, I don’t like him sounding like that but I don’t know what to say to him so I don’t say anything. Despite the noise that surrounds us the silence between us feels so heavy.

“You seem very thoughtful today.” Kurt says eventually, quietly, hesitation lingering clearly in his voice.

“Sorry.” I say then and I’m not just sorry for dragging the smile off his lips, I’m sorry for thinking unappreciative thoughts.

“Blaine, you’re my best friend and I really, really care about you. If this is too much, us being here, in a crowded mall, pretending you’re okay then you can tell me. We can figure something out, okay?” He pulls on my hand a little then and I can’t help but look at him, his eyes full of concern and pleading, “We can do all of your thinking together. Blaine. You don’t have to be the strong one or the brave one or the courageous one anymore because there’s two of us now and we can share this.”

My heart starts to pound at the sincerity rushing from his mouth and hitting me painfully in the chest. Why can Kurt always read me so clearly, so easily?

“I think that maybe I shouldn’t be here.” I say in a wavering whisper and Kurt tightens his grip instinctively on my hand. He doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that we’re sitting in a crowded caf�, in a crowded mall, in the middle of Ohio. He doesn’t seem to care that sitting here holding my hand so openly could make us a target. Kurt’s more concerned about offering me a form of comfort that he knows means a lot to me and there’s something so profound about that.

“It’s too soon, you being here, isn’t it?” Kurt muses aloud, his eyes wider than they were ten seconds ago.

I can’t say anything.

“Blaine. I’m sorry for making you come here. I thought it’d be nice. I didn’t think.” He says apologetically and he looks so sorry. He looks so upset and he thinks he’s upset me but it wasn’t him at all, it was all me. He hasn’t been bouncing these stupid thoughts around my head all morning, I have.

“It’s okay.” I offer honestly and Kurt shakes his head, that defiant look on his face.

“No it’s not. You should have told me if you didn’t want this. I need to know that you feel like you can talk to me. I love you, Blaine.” Kurt says and there’s a hint of distant despair rolling in the depths of his voice now.

“You were already coming here, Kurt, I didn’t want to ruin this for you.” I say hoping to make him feel better but it doesn’t work because his brow furrows and he looks so concerned. I want to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore but maybe he does.

“Blaine, by coming here you ruined your own day, you can see that, right? You don’t owe me anything.” He says clearly, each word punctuated for deeper meaning.

“I do owe you, though.” I say and Kurt shifts in his seat. He looks uncomfortable and confused.

“No. Blaine, look, you’re my best friend and that means that we have each other’s backs. That means that you can tell me if you don’t want to do something. If changes are happening too quickly or if you just want to spend the day doing mundane things like watching TV or helping me sew pillowcases then that‘s okay too.” Kurt offers sincerely and my eyes fill up then because I’ve been so stupid, haven‘t I? I’ve been so blind. Kurt’s not expecting me to be okay or perfect he‘s expecting me to need help and he‘s upset that I‘m not letting him help me.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt.” I say, realisation still settling on the tip of my tongue, he just shakes his head again. His hand still clinging to mine as if he’s trying to say: I’m here for you, Blaine, always.

“For what?” he asks softly and there’s raw emotion in his voice now.

“For everything.” I say and then he gives me the tiniest of smiles.

“I’m not sorry.” he says, his fingers playing aptly with the thread of the cardigan that I’m wearing before he adds, “Blaine, I want you to promise me something.”

I just look at him for a while before I say, “Okay, what is it?” Because I can do that, after everything I can promise Kurt something and mean it. He nods his head.

“I want you to promise that you’ll let me know what’s going on in your head because sometimes I can be really dense and I do things like this.” he looks around the caf� quickly before his eyes meet mine again, “Blaine, I want you to tell me if you‘re not happy.” He finishes genuinely and I can feel my own brow furrow now. I can only imagine what we must look like to an outsider.

“Oh. Okay.” I say

“Do you promise because this really matters to me, Blaine? I‘ve never meant something so seriously in my life.” Kurt says resolutely and his face matches his words. I can’t help but take in the serious line of his mouth, the determination in his eyes, the crease in his brow and I know then that what he’s saying is an absolute truth.

I make a decision.

“I promise you, Kurt.” I say and a faint trace of a smile draws itself on his lips. His whole face slowly comes back to life in front of me.

“One more thing,“ he says, lifting my hand and leaning over to place a delicate kiss on my knuckles, “Do you promise to try and understand how amazing you actually are? Because, Blaine Anderson, I think you‘re amazing.” Kurt says and I falter.

“Kurt, I-” He rubs my hand quickly and I realise then that he can see it all, he can see how conflicted I am.

“Blaine, don‘t you dare doubt me on this, my word is the law.” He says swiftly grabbing my attention before he adds, “Please, just try. For me?”

“For you, I promise I’ll try.” I say earnestly and Kurt just smiles.

Burt Hummel is staring at me and I don’t quite know where to focus my eyes. Being alone with him is quite intense but you mustn’t misunderstand me, I’m not scared of him, not at all, the situation just evokes strong feelings. I can’t help but wonder why my own father couldn’t talk to me like this because Burt, he just strode right over to me, confident as always, and asked if he could talk to me alone. He asked if I’d be comfortable with that and Kurt just looked up at me from behind his father and shrugged as if to say: don’t ask me, I don’t know. I just nodded my head in reply and followed him into the living room where he closed the door and we blocked out the world.

“I just want to talk to you alone for a while. Is that okay?” Burt starts, taking a seat on the sofa next to me. His weight bouncing me a little.

“Of course.” I say clearly and he nods once.

“Am I okay sitting this close to you?” Burt asks then and all I can do is look at him. That question sends something warm rushing through me because he’s asking about physical boundaries, like Kurt did last night, and that makes me want to sob out in relief. No one gets to put their hands on me anymore, not unless I say so and only ever in a good way.

“Yeah, you‘re fine.” I say eventually to which Burt offers me small smile that reaches his eyes.

“How are you feeling today, kid?” he enquires and of all the questions he could have asked me, I didn’t expect that one. I expected ‘We should talk about living arrangements?’ or maybe even ‘We should talk about school?’ but I never expected him to ask me how I was feeling.

“Oh. I’m fine.” I say shortly, still partially wrapped in shock, and Burt fiddles with the cap that sits on his head before taking it off altogether and laying it on the coffee table that sits in front of us.

“Okay. So, how are you really feeling?” Burt says softly, with not a hint of force present in his voice. I wonder then if anyone can see straight through me or if it’s just a Hummel thing.

“I’m just- I’m a little lost, I think.” I say honestly and it probably sounds far less convincing than I wanted it to.

“Because you don’t have to go back to that house?” Burt asks and I realise then that Burt is probably as straight talking as his son and that despite all the obvious differences they’re very much a like.

“I don’t know, my head is such a mess.” I say honestly before I realise what I’ve said. Burt just nods.

“Do you talk to Kurt about it, what you‘re feeling, I mean?” Burt asks eventually and I can’t help but think that he sounds like a real parent should, like a real dad should. Burt’s a precise amount of caring and open questions and presence and understanding and that’s everything that any son would ever need his dad to be.

“I want to, I promised him I would, but I just don’t know how to start.” I confide eventually and my voice is much lower now.

“Okay. Well, how about Finn or Puck? They’d listen to you talk too.” Burt tries and I shake my head.

“I don’t want to implicate Finn in my- in my drama. And Puck, he already done so much for me, I don‘t want to keep bothering him.” I say almost apologetically and Burt makes a tiny noise of disapproval.

“You’re not bothering anybody, Blaine. Would you like to talk to me about it? Because you can.” Burt says softly and it hangs in the air for a while. I can suddenly hear the mechanically ticking of the clock that hangs on the wall.

“I-”

“You don’t have to tell me everything, maybe just the stuff that’s really bothering you. Kurt does it all the time.” he adds with a sense of purpose, like he’s letting me know that talking to him about my feelings and my problems wouldn’t be a weakness and I really want to believe him.

I take the chance.

“We could be here all night if I tell you what’s bothering me.” I say carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He waits to speak until he’s caught my eye, “I’ve got all night.”

My heart starts to pound, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“What?” Burt says, his eyes still looking into mine and it’s hard for me not to look away.

I bring my hands together in my lap and start fiddling, “Your family is already doing so much for me, Mr Hummel.”

“There’ll be none of that.” he says firmly before he continues, “Look, kid, you’re not a burden, okay; it‘s actually nice having you here.”

“It- it is?” I say and I can hear the voice of my father in my head shouting ‘Why would they want a faggot in their house!’ but I just replace it with Burt’s voice and now my head is reminding me: ‘You’re not a burden.’

“Yeah, Kurt’s more careful with his mouth for a start.” Burt confides and I smile then. A small laugh escaping Burt.

“Plus, you’re safe here, Blaine. And that matters to me.” Burt offers and I can feel my cheeks flushing.

“I thought- I thought no one would care.” I say and my voice is so tiny that I’d be surprised if Burt could even hear me, but he did hear me because he says disbelievingly, “What?”

“For eight years I didn’t tell a soul because I thought..” I cut myself off because it’s making me feel too emotional, I look at the floor.

“Okay, you need to listen to me.” he says, “Look at me.” he requests and I do, of course I do, “I care about you, Blaine. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

I don’t say anything; I just stare downwards, Burt continues.

“Kurt cherishes every single fibre of you, he cares about you so much that you’re all he ever talks about. Carole cares about you too, in fact, she won’t stop talking about you either. I’m lucky you bat for the other team because I‘d be in some serious trouble otherwise. She thinks you’re the sweetest kid. And Finn, he cares about you too, in his own way. He’s his mother’s son, I know you maybe don’t know him too well yet, but he’s not afraid to say when he doesn’t like people and Finn’s only ever said nice things about you. And while we’re at it, Puck cares about you too. He’s been through a lot of bad things in his life and I‘ve never heard him be so concerned about anyone other than you. When you left for the mall this morning he came to talk to me because he cares so damn much about you, Blaine. The kid was beside himself. So, don‘t you ever think that no one cares about you because that‘s just not true.”

I look at Burt then and sincerity is absolutely pouring out of his body. He holds my eyes with his and I can’t help but instinctively reach out a hand but I feel incredibly stupid and I try to take it back. Burt he doesn’t let me, he grabs my hand and holds onto it tightly, “Do you understand why we care about you, Blaine?”

“No.” I say quietly because I know it’s not the right answer. Burt grips my hand like Kurt has a habit of doing and offers me a reassuring glance. Warmth rushes through me.

“We all care about you because you’re a kind, generous, self-sacrificing, loving person and you matter, Blaine.” He’s looking at me so intently, searching me with his eyes. I can feel a blush form on my cheeks.

“I don’t want to let you down.” I offer eventually and he almost frowns.

“You wont let us down.” He says softly.

“You don’t know that. My head-”

“What about your head, Blaine?” he asks and he’s looking at me so kindly that my heart is swelling.

“It’s messed up, I’m so messed up.” I say regretfully.

“No you’re not. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He reassures.

“I just- I don’t know what to do now I can’t go back there.” I offer, trying to explain the confused state that my head is in.

“Do you want to go back there?” Burt asks and there’s so much sadness in his voice.

“No. No! He hurt me!” I all but shout because I don’t ever, ever want to go back there.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He placates, as a heavy breath leaves him. He tugs at my hand and I squeeze it back. This is Burt and Burt is a good man.

“I just- I don’t know how to be without him.” Realisation hits him and I know that he understands what I was trying to say before but didn‘t.

“Tell me about yourself.” he say suddenly.

“What?”

“Tell me what you‘re good at, who your friends are, who you admire. All of that is what separates you from him, it makes you your own person.”

“I- well, I love to write songs?” I say and he nods, “Go on.”

“I like to compose music, I like to sing to people. I‘m good at it.” He smiles then.

“You should sing to us one day. Kurt likes to do that sometimes.” Burt shares. I smile then too.

“R-really?” I say

“Yeah, I think that‘d be really great. So, tell me who your friends are?” he leads and I am smiling now.

“Kurt, your son, he’s my best friend in the world. Wes, David, Thad, in fact, all the guys at Dalton- oh- I’m- I'm never going to see them again, am I?” The smile falls off my face.

“Yes you will.” He says confidently.

“I can’t afford Dalton by myself.” I remind him.

“But your friends will still have weekends, Blaine.” He reassures.

“Yeah. I- I guess so.” I say because that’s very true.

Burt squeezes my hand.

“So, last question, who do you admire?” He says evenly and I don’t even think about it, I just say it because it's true, “Kurt.”

Burt grins at me then and I can't help but smile straight back at him.

“Then you and I already have something in common. And do you know who else I admire?” He asks then.

“No.” I say because really it could be anyone in the entire world.

“You.” he says sincerely and my heart is racing.

“W-what?” I say because I can’t quite understand that. Why would a grown man, a man like Burt, admire someone like me?

“You’re so brave and after everything you been through you’re still so damn loving. I'm so glad that my son met a boy like you because you changed his life. You made him feel better and you deserve happiness, Blaine. Oh, no, don't get upset. No, shhh, it's okay. Come here, kid.” he says as he opens his arms and I instantly lean forward. A tear sliding down my face as he holds me tightly to his chest. I have never felt so at home, so cared for, so comfortable.

I think I've finally found him.

I think I have a dad.