At the end of the school day - the worst school day of my entire life - Dylan and I had to complete the next obstacle of getting across the parking lot. Most of the people in my school drove: the town had a pretty lenient view on the age of drivers; hence the reason at least half of the freshman had cars.  We made it across the crowded expanse of concrete quickly and soon reached Dylan's Rover parked in the corner of the lot. As we'd walked, heads had turned and whispers had begun, person after person spilling out the rumours. I did my best to ignore it but still felt a huge wave of relief wash over me as we reached the Rover.

"Straight to yours?" Dylan asked quietly as we climbed inside. I debated for a few moments as I did up my seatbelt.

"Yeah, that's easiest. And my parents won't be back straight away so we can go on the X Box or something" I replied with a shrug. I was playing it casual but I was really worried about what my family would be like towards Dylan. I'd never had him over but I'd been to his a few times.

"Ok, sounds good" he answered casually, but I could sense the note of anxiety laced in his tone. "I'll try not to crush you too hard at Halo."

I laughed and pushed his arm playfully, rolling my eyes and snorting. He grinned and stuck his tongue out at me before turning his attention to driving as we drove out of the school and towards my house.

"Dude, move! I'm about to di-why didn't you move??" I yelled as I rapidly pushed the buttons on my controller, sighing in exasperation as my character died.

"Sorry! A bunch of those zombies came at me!" Dylan replied, groaning when the screen went black, his character dying too.

"You suck at COD! Seriously, I could beat you in my sleep!" I groaned, concentrating on shooting a ton of zombies as I ranted.

"Excuse me for trying to play strategically and not just randomly waving my AK-47 around" he retorted, deftly shooting a zombie whilst he spoke.

I just rolled my eyes and concentrated on the game, biting my lip and smashing the buttons in frustration. Did the zombies ever stop? Ok, we were on round 22 on kino de toten, but this was just ridiculous.

"Dyl, shoot! No, not camping out, shoot the goddamn gun!" I shouted, pointing frantically at the screen.

"I'm shooting, ok?!" he growled in reply, his hands shaking from the force of which he was hitting the buttons.

"Yes!" we screamed in unison as we got up to round 23, our best ever between us. We high fived and burst out laughing.

"Blaine?"
"In my room with Dylan!" I called out in response to my mothers shout. She must have just got in from work: I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly five so she must have come straight back.

"Dinners ready soon! And your father will be back in ten minutes!" she replied, her voice easily reaching us up in my attic bedroom. I shouted back an 'OK' before turning back to the X Box. It was only after a few minutes of slaying zombies that I realised Dylan wasn't playing. Pausing the game, I turned my body round to where the brunette was laying back on my bed. I furrowed my eyebrows together at the look of worry evident on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked with a frown.

"I just..." he paused and ran his hand through his floppy bangs before continuing. "What if...what if your parents don't like me?" he finished in a small voice, chewing at his bottom lip.

"Of course they'll like you" I replied automatically. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "My mom will definitely like you, don't worry. And I'm sure my dad will too."

He still looked unconvinced so I smiled reassuringly and pulled him into a sitting position by his arm. Dylan looked at me, his green eyes still looking worried.
"Stop pouting, you look like a little lost puppy" I scolded as I pulled him into a hug, smiling when I felt him returning the squeeze.

"Everything's going to go well tonight" I stated firmly, to reassure myself as much as to reassure him.

Everything did seem to go well, to begin with. We went downstairs, my mom warmly greeting Dylan with a hug and a fond remark about how thin he was. He smiled and I could see how happy he was to be liked by my mother; I was happy too, of course. My mom knew Dylan was gay and she was treating him just how she treated anyone and that gave me hope for her reaction when I came out. Dylan gasped as he saw all the food my mother had prepared, his eyes gleaming as he realised she had made it specially for his visit. I knew how much this acceptance meant to him and it gave me hope for when my father arrived. Maybe things would go well, after all.

Just after we all sat down around the long oak dining table, my father strode in. He was dressed in one of his many smart suits, crisp and clean cut, just the way he wanted me to be too. At first he just strolled in as usual but then he noticed Dylan.

"Honey, this is Dylan, Blaine's friend," my mom explained gently, gesturing for my father to sit down. He nodded briefly before sitting at the head of the table, pride of place.

"So, uh, Dylan" he cleared his throat as he looked over the brunette dancer who sat beside me. "You're friends with Blaine?"

"Uh, yes, sir. Since first day of freshman year" Dylan replied quietly, looking nervous. I knew he wanted to make a good expression and I shot him a smile. My father nodded and took a bite of his food, which was the signal for us all to do the same.

After a few minutes of silence, my mother began to make small talk, obviously trying to get Dad to warm up to my best friend.

"So, Dylan, what kind of things do you enjoy doing? I hear you're in theatre with Blaine?" she smiled warmly between mouthfuls of chicken.

"Yeah" he replied enthusiastically "I love acting, and I also dance too."

"Ooh, are you trained?" Mom asked.

"In ballet and jazz, yes," Dylan smiled with a shrug.

"He's really good too" I added, shooting a look at my father who continued to eat in silence. "Offered to teach me once but I tripped over my own feet-"

"-and bought me crashing down on top of him too" Dylan finished, rolling his eyes. We both started to laugh, my mom smiling too.

"I always thought ballet was for girls and gays" my father broke in casually, not seeming to notice the tense silence that fell as soon as he spoke. Mom coughed and looked down uncomfortably. Dylan and I stared at each other. He looked completely shocked, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. I knew my expression mirrored his.

"Dad," I hissed after a few seconds, appalled by his behaviour. How could he say something like that? He didn't know Dylan was gay - I hadn't told him - but he obviously guessed. I just couldn't believe he would come out with a suggestive comment like that.

"Actually, uh," Dylan blushed and looked down at his plate "I-I am gay, actually, sir..."

"My point exactly," my father replied, narrowing his eyes and not looking at Dylan. "Must have been the ballet that triggered it."

"Enough!"

The past ten minutes had been awful, with my mom trying to just serve more food to keep everyone quiet, Dylan staring down at his plate and myself glaring in horror as my father dropped comment after comment. Finally, I couldn't take it any more.

"What?" my father said coolly, looking at me. He had his stern expression on, every ounce of him daring me to defy him.

"Enough, Dad, just stop, please! Stop with this stupid comments, you're being really mean! And it's not gentlemanly to insult a guest."

I could barely believe I was saying these things. I had never dared stand up to my father. I just went along with whatever he had planned for me. But he was sat here, insulting my best friend on purpose. And, unknowingly, insulting me too.

"Blaine Richard Anderson, how dare you talk to me like that?" my father growled, his whole face contorted with fury. "This is my house and I will not tolerate that tone of voice, especially with guests in the house" he continued, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm at the word 'guests'. He clearly didn't view Dylan as a guest,  more of an unwanted burden and a waste of his time.

"Now, Johnathan, calm down," my mother mumbled, reaching out a hand to lay on my fathers arm, trying to calm him down. He shook off her hand and glared at me and Dylan, who was still staring down at his half empty plate. I couldn't see his face as it was covered by his floppy brown hair but I could see the tenseness of his shoulders and the slight shaking of his hands. I hated seeing my best friend like that and knowing it was my own father causing him pain teared me up even more.

"I don't care, I'm trying to stand up for my friend-"

"I can't believe you consider that...anomaly as a friend, Blaine. I thought I had raised you better than that," my father cut in, barely disguising his hatred for Dylan. Or, more specifically, his hatred for gay people.

"Dad! Would you just shut your ignorant mouth for one minute and listen to me?" I retorted, surprised when he did actually shut up. I took a deep breath and looked around the table. My father was glaring at me, tapping his fingers on the table. My mother was looking at me in concern, frowning slightly. My best friend had finally looked up from the table and was looking at me, an unreadable emotion on his face. I took a deep breath and looked back at my father.

"I would really appreciate that you stop making those homophobic comments" I said quietly, somehow keeping my voice under control. I couldn't go through with this, I couldn't...but I had to. My voice shaking, I continued quietly. "It's insulting and I will not have anyone insult my best friend and...well, it's insulting to me too."

I could see the concentration on his face as my father worked out what I meant by he was insulting me too. His face changed from blank and impassive to one of shock and disgust.

"What?" he asked harshly, as though he wanted to check he was right before saying anything else.

"Mom, Dad.." I looked at each of them. "I-I'm gay."

"No, you're not," my father replied straight away, his voice cold as ice. "I didn't raise you this way for you to suddenly decide you want to throw it all away by saying you're...you're gay."

"Honey, it's not a choice...can't you just accept it?" my mom interjected quietly. Although she sounded supportive when I looked at her she wouldn't meet my eyes. I knew she was shocked and I just knew she was disappointed too.

"S-sir, being gay is not a choice..sir..." Dylan spoke for the first time since the ballet comment, sounding nervous but he smiled slightly at me. That little smile meant everything; it meant I was doing the right thing.

"No! I will not have a gay son!" my father snarled, glaring at both me and Dylan with eyes filled with disgust. "That's it, isn't it?" his voice dropped dangerously quiet. "Dylan here has convinced you that you're gay, he's trying to ruin you...he's jealous of everything you have, Blaine."

That was it. I had let my fathers ignorant tirade go on long enough.

"Nobody made me gay, it's just the way I was born. You can either accept that and support me, or continue in your quest to win 'Worlds Stupidest Homophobe'. Your choice, but I'm not sticking around to hear the decision." I spoke calmly and slowly, standing up as I finished. I walked out of the room, hearing Dylan follow me and my father splutter in disbelief.

"Blaine?" I looked up from the Katy Perry biography I was reading at the sound of the voice. It was nearly ten, and Dylan had left soon after the shambles of a dinner. We'd been texting since he got home, but neither of us seemed keen to discuss what had happened. It was amazing how much small talk we’d managed to come up with in the past few hours. I'd seen just how much of an asshole Johnathan Anderson really was; I wished he wasn't my father and that I could have a nice, supportive, caring father like Dylan's.

"Blaine, sweetie?" Mom. Of course it was, my dad had gone storming out as soon as Dylan left. Probably drinking the last few hours away in a pub somewhere. Not that I cared; as far as I was concerned it wouldn't bother me if he didn't come back ever.

"Yes?" I replied tiredly. I really didn't feel like talking with my mom right now, I just wanted to finish reading this chapter and go to sleep.

"I brought up some hot chocolate..it has those little marshmallows you like." My mom walked up the stairs, her dark hair appearing beside the railings as she walked up.

I sat up slightly from where I was laying on my bed to take the offered mug of steaming hot chocolate. As I took a sip she sat down on the edge of my bed, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Are you sure?" She broke the silence after a minute or so, turning to look at me.

"Yes. You think I'd say it to Dad if I wasn't sure?" I replied wryly.

"I just wanted to check, honey," she replied diplomatically, smiling slightly. "I'm happy for you, that you found the strength to tell us. Of course, it's not what I expected, but I do support you, Blaine."

Tears sprang to the surface at her words and I smiled weakly at her.
"Thanks Mom, it means a lot," I replied quietly.

"No problem sweetie. Now get to sleep soon, school tomorrow," Mom smiled and leaned over to kiss my cheek as I did the same.
"I will, goodnight."

She got up to leave but paused at the top of the stairs. She turned to look at me, her intricate braided bun falling out around her face and her hazel eyes tight with worry.

"Goodnight. And Blaine, try not to listen to your father. He just wants the best for you, but doesn't know when to stop planning and just be a dad."

She smiled softly and walked downstairs, her footsteps quiet on the carpet. I sighed and placed my mug down on my nightstand. I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight.