"Are you coming back after dinner tonight?" Jeff asked me as he changed out of his uniform.

"I always do." I said, not able to force a happy expression onto my face. "Plus, we promised Blaine we'd go see a movie with him and Kurt."

"I think we should cancel on that." Jeff told me, turning around and shaking his head. "I mean, Blaine is so strung out on this guy. Do remember after that first day when all he could talk about was Kurt? He's just too afraid to admit it, so he's dragging us along so he can pretend it's not a date. I, personally, will not enable him to hide his feelings."

"Since when are you so sensitive to other people's emotions?" I asked, completely astounded.

"I'm sensitive." He protested.

"No, you're not. Remember that one time, when you were dating that girl, Marie, and her dog died?" Jeff rolled his eyes, already knowing where I was going with this story. "And you asked her if he had been sick, and she said no, he was just old, and you, you asked her how she didn't see his death coming."

"Okay, fine. I just don't want to go watch some movie where some middle age, half attractive woman finds love. Every time we let Blaine pick the movie, it ends up being some cheesey, sappy thing that is not interesting at all."

I couldn't help but laugh despite the gloom that always seemed to settle on me every Friday.

"Shouldn't you have left five minutes ago?" Jeff asked, narrowing his eyes at me for laughing.

"Shit," I muttered, knowing I wouldn't have time now to change out of my Warblers outfit. "I'll see you later."

I hurried out the door, not pausing to chat with any of the peopel who stopped to say hello to me. I'd have to rush to my room as soon as I got home and change my outfit. If my dad seen me in this....

As soon as I got in my car I pulled off the red and navy blazer and threw it in the back seat. Better it being thrown around than me.

"It's me!" I called into the intercom at the gates to my house. A loud buzzing sound filled my ears before the gates started swinging open.

I parked my car out front, as I usually did. No one ever asked why I didn't park in the garage. I never stayed long enough to need to get it out of the way.

"Nick, honey, I was worried. You're late." My mother said, running out of the house to give me a quick embrace. She smelled like she'd been baking all day, which I knew would never happen.

She tucked a strand of her hair out of her face, a nervous habit. We had the same hair, mom and I. Straight and so dark brown it could pass for black. The rest of my looks I got from my father.

"I'm going to go change." I told her as we entered the house. "I'll be back up in a few minutes."

My house was huge and there was plenty of rooms, but I'd convinced my parents to turn the basement into a room for me when I was twelve. Right now, it was filled with everything a teenage boy could want; I had my own flat screen television, an xBox, a great stereo system, even a pool table. It was such a shame that all those things went practically unused, since I never actually stayed in my room except during the summer holidays.

I walked over to my closet and threw open the doors, pulling out the first shirt my hands landed on and doing the same thing with a pair of pants.

Knowing I couldn't prolong going upstairs forever, I flicked off my light and asended the stairs. "Are we having steak for dinner?" I asked once upstairs.

My mother nodded, placing forks and knives on the too large dinning room table. "Annie says it will be done soon."

"Where's dad?" He was usually already in here, badgering me about school and my friends.

Mom left to go find dad so I went into the kitchen to see if I could help Annie with anything.

"Nick!" She said, as if it was a surprise to see me, as if I didn't have to attend these dinners every Friday.

"How are you doing, Annie?" I asked as I popped a grape in my mouth. Annie always had fresh fruit assembled in bowls around the house. Annie had cooked my dinners for me since I was born. She was old now, in her late sixties, but her cooking was still great.

"Don't spoil your dinner." She warned, raising a spoon at me. I grinned, eating another grape, knowing she really didn't mind.

"How's school?" She questioned as she stirred something in a pot. "You find a nice girl yet?"

"I've already got one. She cooks for me and everything." I joked and Annie shook her head but smiled.

"When's your next performance going to be?"

Annie attended every one of the Warblers performances, even though my own parents didn't even know about it. I'd tried to tell them once, but dad had flipped and refused to let me stay in the group.

"I'll let you know." I promised.

"Now, you be good and don't be starting any argements with your father."

I winced at the words and Annie patted my arm. We both knew I didn't exactly provoke any of the arguments. I just happened to be there for him to take his anger out on. I wasn't known for holding my tongue, though, and I knew Annie was just warning me not to make things worse than they had to be.

"Go tell your parents dinner will be on the table in one minute." Annie said, shooing me out of the kitchen.

"There you are!" My mother exclaimed as I entered the dinning room.

"Where have you been?" My father, already seated at the head of the table, asked.

"With Annie." I replied, sitting at the other end of the table, far from my father.

"You spend way too much time in that kitchen when you're here." He commented, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm thinking of going to culinary school after graduation." I instantly regretted the words. Why couldn't I just let it go? Why did I have to push him every time?
"No son of mine is going to be some pansy ass--,"

"I was joking, okay?" I said, raising my hands in surrender.

Annie took that minute to bring out the food, becoming a momentary distraction.

"This looks delicious." My mother commented without actually thanking Annie for her hard work. Mom said that you never thanked the help, their paychecks are a thank you enough.

"Thank you, Annie." I said defiently as she set a plate in front of me. My father didn't say anything to Annie.

We ate in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. As much as I hated having to come home once a week for dinner, Annie's cooking almost made up for it. They fed us well at Dalton, but no one cooked as good as Annie.

"I got a letter from your school." Dad said after putting down his fork and knife.

"About what? My grades are fine. Good, actually. I'm in the top of my class for most subjects--,"

"It's not about your acedemics." My mother said quietly.
I knew from the small quaver in her voice that what ever the letter had said, it wasn't good. Whenever my father was upset about something my mother tried to make herself as small and as quiet as she could. Right now she was slightly hunched in her seat.

"It's about your extracariculars."

"I'm not in any extracariculars." I protested, faking a frown. Great. He was going to kill me and I was going to have to quit the Warblers.

"Don't lie to me!" My father shouted, standing up. "Haven't you done enough lying?"

"I haven't lied--,"

"Oh, so you aren't in a Glee club that calls themselves the Warbulls?"

How was it that, despite the seriousness of the conversation, I almost laughed out loud?

"No, I'm definitely not in any Glee club called the Warbulls." It was technically true.

That was not what my father wanted to hear. He knocked his plate off the table and into the wall beside him. It shattered, all the remanants of Annie's delicious meal not scattered on the floor along with jagged pieces of glass.
"James!" My mother cried but she didn't get out of her seat. I didn't blame her.

"You think you're funny?" My father asked, taking a few steps towards me. Part of me wanted to back up, but the prideful part of me refused to be intimidated. "Standing there smirking as if this is a joke?"

That was enough to make it clear that this wasn't about me being in the Warblers. He would have picked this fight no matter what, he was just using the Warblers as an excuse so that he didn't feel guilty about whatever he was going to say or do.

This was one of those fights that I would never win. I had two options: Leave and let him take it out on my mother, or stay and deal with what ever he dished out.

"If you keep breaking plates like that we're going to have to start giving you plastic ones. Don't want to ruin all the good China." I joked, gesturing at the broken mess.

"You want to get smart with me?" He asked, grabbing my arm hard enough that it would most likely leave a nice handprint sized mark, perhaps even a bruise.

"Would you rather I get stupid with you?" I retorted and his grip tightened.

"You're an ungrateful shit. I pay for your car, for your schooling, for everything, and this is how you repay me?" His hand knocked into the back of my head, hard.

Good one dad, don't want to mark up my face and have people ask unwanted questions.

"I'm leaving." I said, jerking my arm out of his grip and walking as fast as I could towards the door without actually running.

I made it as far as the hallway before he pushed me into a side table. Shit. At least when he was hitting me in the head I'd just have a head ache. Bruised ribs meant I might not be able to do the choreography for sectionals.

"You leave now and you can leave the car keys." My father said, probably figuring I'd rather stay here and be his punching bag than give up the nice new car he bought me last year.

"Take them!" I said, digging in my pockets. I forgot I changed downstairs. "They're in the pants in my room. Get them yourself."

I didn't slam the door on my way out. There was no point. It wasn't like I was being a normal rebelius teenager having a fight with my parents. I didn't want to make him more angry, I just wanted to shift that anger over to myself so he didn't take it out on anyone else.

I regretted leaving the car kays as soon as I stepped outside. Not because the car matter that much to me. That was where my father and I differed. It was nice to have expensive things, but I could care less if it cost five thousand dollars or fifty thousand dollars. It was more the rain, which was coming down in huge, constant drops, that matter to me right now.

Half an hour later I opened the door to the room I shared with Jeff. He was already there, sitting on his bed with a laptop in front of him.

"What happened to you?" He asked as I searched for a towel. I needed a shower.

"It's pouring out there. This is just from walking from the gates." I found a clean towel in the top drawer of my dresser.

"What happened to your car?" His eyes were filled with confusion and concern.

"I got rearended on the way home. My dad's taking in to the shop tomorrow. I'll probably have it back by next weekend." I told Jeff, the lie coming easily to me. I could have told him the truth, but what good would that do? He'd just sit there and look at me with even more concern. It wasn't as if he could fix the problem.

"That sucks." Jeff commented as I opened our door. "I guess Blaine will have to drive us to the movies tomorrow."

"Or maybe we can ask Kurt's sister for a ride." I joked with a wink.

"Nick?" Jeff called as I was about to close the door.

I hesitated, considering pretending I hadn't heard him. "Yeah?" He couldn't tell that I'd walked all the way home. It really was raining bad out there. And it wasn't as if my father left any marks anywhere that was visible right now.

"Don't objectify women like that. It's wrong."

I closed the door, managing a laugh that wasn't in any way forced. Friday was pretty much over. I could just forget everything that happened today, and go back to being my happy, cheerful self. No reason to dwell on something that you can't change.