"Blaine! Dinner!" my mother called up the stairs. Impressive really, that such a tiny woman's voice could carry up two flights of stairs.

"Coming!" I yelled back, dragging myself away from my mirror. I had been slaving away in front of it for hours, trying to get the look just right. I was starring in my high schools school production, and the part involved a lot of make up. I grinned at myself in the mirror, chuckling at the state of my painted face before walking down to the kitchen.

"Come on Blaine, eat! You have to be at the school soon" my mother chastised as she handed me a glass of water. I took my seat at the table and soon began eating. My mom had always been a fantastic cook and had brought me up to love food.

***

"Renata! I'm back!"

My father was home. Even if he hadn't called out to my mom I would have known it was him: my dad had a very particular way of throwing his keys down and taking off his coat that was unmistakable. I looked up as the tall, suited man walked into the kitchen.

"Good God Blaine, what is that on your face? Not turning soft on me, are you?" he chuckled, raising his eyebrows at the make up.

I laughed and shook my head.

"It's for the show Dad, don't worry" I replied as I stood up to take my empty plate over to the sink.

"That's good, was worried that all this drama was turning you gay" he joked, chuckling to himself.

From my place at the sink, I froze. After a few moments I laughed half-heartedly, trying not to give anything away. I slowly washed my plate and excused myself to the living room. I bit down on my lower lip, playing with it between my teeth.

"It was just a joke, relax" I muttered to myself, running my hand through my tousled, wild curly hair. Of course it was just a joke, my father would never mean to say something like that.

***

My father, Jonathan Anderson, had always prided himself in displaying perfection to all those that knew him. He held down a successful job in a large building society, owned a holiday home in Milan, had a beautiful wife and a wonderful son. That was what he always introduced me as: "This is Blaine, my wonderful son. He's on the football team, swim team and he's the star of theatre at school" he'd say, showing me off to all the rich old clients at parties. I never really felt like he cared too much about me as myself. As long as I was being good and doing things others would be envious of, he was happy. This didn't make me hate my father; I just didn't know him very well. I've always tried to make him proud though. I want him to be proud of me, to love me for being good. And I did appear perfect; intelligent, athletic, talented, attractive, well-mannered. I ticked all the boxes. There was just one little problem, which my dad still didn't know about: I was gay.

Dylan Blackburn was one of the only other gay guys at school that I knew of. There was only a handful of out gays and lesbians, and who knows how many still in the closet. I was still in the closet, I couldn't bring myself to come out to anyone. Even Dylan didn't know, and he was my best friend. We were both actors and had quickly bonded since the start of freshman year just a few months ago. I loved talking about films and award shows with him – he harboured a secret passion for Zac Efron and would rave on for hours about everything Zac related. It was adorable to be honest, and it was hilarious to watch when he had a 'fanboy' moment.

"Mom, Dad! I'm going to the show, be back later!" I called as I heard Dylan honk his car horn for me. I slid out the front door and jogged down the long gravel driveway to get to the red Range Rover.

"Sup Blanderson!" the brunette grinned as he watched me haul myself up into the car (Range Rovers are pretty big, y'know.)

"Not much, Dylburn" I replied, leaning my hand over to fist bump his. We'd established the nicknames ever since a substitute teacher read my name out weirdly, and it had stuck. I looked over at him and smiled. Dylan was taller than me, nearing six-foot, but he wasn't too lanky or over muscled: he was toned and athletic from dance. His brown hair fell across his forehead and his blonde highlights needed re doing, and his green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at me.

"Nice face" he sniggered, starting the car with a roar. Although gay, Dylan wasn't stereotypically into fashion but he still had a fantastic eye for style. As always he appraised my outfit, looking for a good comment. If I got a good comment, I knew I was sorted.

"Why do you never wear socks? I mean, you have cute ankles and all but still…" he questioned, pulling out into the main road.

"I don't know…I like the breeze?" I shrugged, chuckling softly. "Cool shirt by the way" I added.

"Thanks, picked it up dirt cheap. Dairy Queen still pays like crap" he replied, flashing me a smile. "Lucky you with a budget on tap, no Blizzards for you" the brunette teased.
I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing he didn't mean that nastily. True I did have a big budget and had no real need for a job. But I liked to think I wasn't cocky about it. Nobody liked an asshole, right?

***

"Hey, fag." The biggest asshole of them all, Cameron Walker, snickered as soon as Dylan and I walked into the green room.

I could feel Dylan tense up beside me so I gently steered him away from the cocky blonde idiot.

"Ignore him, he's pathetic" I mumbled, patting his arm slightly. I didn't really know what to say. That was my nightmare: being pointed out as soon as I walked in a room. School was full of people like Cameron Walker and that was one of the main reasons I remained firmly in the closet. That didn't mean I was cowardly, I just had my best interests in mind, right?

"I know..I'm just so tired of it" he replied quietly, his whole body slumping. He really did look defeated; I'd never seen Dylan look so down hearted before.

"Hey, relax…it'll be fine. Just concentrate on putting on a good show" I patted his back and smiled at him. "Can't have our villain freaking out on us" I continued as I pulled away and headed into the dressing room.

Sounds of applause filled my ears as we all left the stage after the curtain call. As soon as we got backstage, everyone started cheering and shouting. All the girls were hugging and guys fist bumping each other. I even saw Cameron smile in Dylan's direction. For once, everyone was getting along.

"Hey Blaine, you were really amazing out there," Gemma Johnson called out to me as soon as things quieted down. She winked at me before walking away with her friends giggling.
I smiled to myself: Gemma was a sweet girl, and if I had liked girls and not guys, I would have probably had a crush on her.

A few girls smiled and giggled as I walked out of the building later. I'd changed back into my normal clothes: black pants that ended just above my ankle, white slip on shoes and a red tee-shirt. The make up was gone and my hair was in its usual free , untameable state. I waved goodbye to some of my friends as they left, congratulating everyone on their performance. Dylan walked out last, clothes askew and brown hair dishevelled. That didn't worry me too much, it was the look of terror in his eyes that panicked me.

"Dylan? What happened?" I asked worriedly as I hurried over to him.

"T-they stole my Zefron book…a-and ripped it up.." he whispered, looking down at the side-walk. Dylan kept a little notebook which he wrote things about Zac Efron – it was like his diary. I gasped softly as I envisioned the pages falling to the ground and pictured the look of agony on Dylan's face.

"Oh, Dyl," I said quietly, pulling him in for a hug without even thinking about it. I held him against me as he shook, rubbing his back gently. We stood like that for a few moments until something caused us to leap apart.

"That your boyfriend, faggot? Your beloved Efron wouldn't have you?" a cold voice taunted from the doorway.

I looked over at Cameron Walker in disgust, shaking my head slowly. I couldn't let myself get angry. I had to be polite and good and set an example and-

"Why don't you just fuck off, Cameron?" I growled, the words out of my mouth without me realising.

"Blaine, please-" Dylan pleaded, grabbing my arm and beginning to back away.

"Yeah that's right, walk away" the idiot smirked. For a moment, I'd seen a look of fear on his face but he had quickly hidden it. "Go bum each other or whatever the hell it is you gays do."

If Dylan hadn't dragged me away, I might have just killed Cameron Walker.

***

The moment I was seated and strapped down in Dylan's car, I slumped against the window. I was disappointed in myself; I had been so, so close to punching Cameron. This wasn't who my father raised me to be, I couldn't allow myself to stoop to the level of the Neanderthals like Cameron. I took a deep breath as Dylan started the car, trying not to show him how freaked out and angry I was.

"Why did you do that? You didn't have to say anything, you just made him mad…" Dylan looked over at me, his eyebrows furrowed above his green eyes.

I sighed softly and looked back at him, chewing on my lower lip. I so badly wanted to tell him why Cameron had made me so mad. But that would mean coming out to the world, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that yet.

"Sorry, Dyl…it just…it got to me," I replied quietly, keeping my gaze steadily out at the lit up buildings as he drove down the high street.

"Why? It happens to me all the time, you shouldn't let it bother you, Blaine" my best friend replied, his voice expressing concern. He must suspect something.

I just shrugged and looked out at the stores and people walking down the streets. I saw so many happy couples, it made me sick. All a girl and boy, there was no sight of two boys walking hand in hand or two girls stealing a kiss underneath a street light.

"Why is this world so damn unfair?" I asked desperately, not sure who exactly I was addressing. "Why can't people just leave others alone, it's nobody's business if I like boys or not!" I ranted, glaring out at the blissfully happy couples outside.

The car suddenly ground to a halt and I looked over at Dylan, wondering why he had suddenly stopped. I raised my eyebrow as he stared at me with a look of utter bewilderment on his tanned face.

"Say what?"

"What?" I replied, chuckling a little to make light of the situation.

"You just…you just said you liked boys?.." he said slowly, the statement coming out as a question as if he wasn't sure about what he was saying. Shit.

"Uh…um…" I was at a loss for words, something which didn't happen very often, and I just looked out of the window again to avoid his piercing emerald stare.

"Blaine?"

"Just keep driving, Dylan. Please" I whispered, closing my eyes. I couldn't deal with this. I couldn't come out. I was too scared. I knew Dylan wouldn't tell anyone but I worried about the rumours and what everyone would think. I took a deep shuddering breath as Dylan wordlessly started the car again and continued driving.

***

"Here we are then," Dylan said hesitantly, looking over at me slowly. I'd been staring resolutely out of the window for the past ten minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do.

"Blaine. I'm sorry, it just sounded like…" he trailed off as I turned to look at him. I met his green eyes with my golden ones, searching for an answer somewhere. He stared right back, gulping slightly.

"If I said something wrong, I'm really sorry Blaine. But you're one of my only friends and I didn't mean anything, I-" the brown-haired, Zac Efron obsessed boy stopped talking as I cleared my throat. Here goes nothing.

"Dylan. Don't apologise" I mumbled quietly, taking a deep breath to compose myself. I needed to get this fear out of my mind. Come on Blaine Anderson, you can do this.

Two full minutes later, I slowly parted my lips again. My throat was dry and I could feel my hands shaking from where they lay in my lap. I bit my lip and then just spoke loudly and clearly so he could understand straight away.

"Dylan, I'm gay."

I watched anxiously as Dylan's face twisted with a hundred emotions in a few seconds. Shock, disbelief, worry, fear, happiness, and finally a smile spread across his face.

"I'm so glad you told me, Blaine," he whispered as he leaned across the space between us to wrap me in a tight hug. I was a little surprised but hugged him back, a small smile creeping upon my lips as he held me. I had never doubted that Dylan would be anything less than supportive, but I was still – irrationally – worried that he would somehow be angry or something.

"Me too" I replied quietly, slowly releasing my grip on the taller boy's shoulders.

"Just…uh, don't tell anyone…Not that I think you would!" I hastily added, my chapped lower lip between my teeth again.

"No problem, I swear I won't utter a single word to anyone," the brunette replied, smiling softly at me. I nodded lightly and smiled slightly, not sure whether to ask him for advice or not.

"Have..have you told your parents?" Dylan inquired before biting his lip. He had obviously thought about it and realised that my father would have kicked up a huge fuss if I'd told him. I certainly wouldn't have been allowed out tonight with Dylan.

"No…I don't know how to break it to them. It would…my father wouldn't be happy" I answered quickly, not wanting to make my father out as horrible or anything. He was just a little old-fashioned in his thinking, I decided, and of course he would accept me when I told him.

"You have to tell them Blaine. You have to do it, don't be scared," Dylan urged, gently squeezing my shoulder whilst I got ready to get out.

I opened the door and jumped out onto the ground, turning briefly back at my best friend with a nod. "I will."

I shut the door with a slam and a worried glance at the front door of my house.