The next two days were a blur of nerves and confusion. He wanted to tell his parents, he really did, but he didn’t know how. Every time Blaine stood in the same room with them his hands started shaking, his throat closed off, and sweat came dripping down his face. He went through three shirts on Saturday alone (something he vowed to never tell his boyfriend about). He didn’t want to blurt it out the way he had with the glee kids; he thought his parents deserved more than that.

            Kurt never pushed the subject either—they hadn’t talked about once. In fact, they had barely talked at all. Blaine just really needed to be alone with his thoughts right now. He needed to sit in his bedroom and stare at the wall thinking, thinking, thinking about what he was planning to do, how he would do it, when he would do it. He didn’t complete a single chore all weekend. He started his homework, but put it down two math problems later. Who cares about pre calc when he’s planning on coming out to his parents. No matter how many times he’d come back to his work, he didn’t finish it. He tried cleaning his room, but only got as far as putting some of the clothes on his floor in the hamper before he just had to pace. He sat down to WoW but it all just seemed so insignificant. He had to move. Back and forth he paced in his bedroom. Up and down the halls. He sat. He stood. He decided. He changed his mind. Out the door. In. Back, forth. Back and forth, back and forth until he couldn’t take it anymore. He crawled into bed willing sleep to come. It didn’t. Stomach, back, side, stomach. Sit up. Lay down.

Breathe, Blaine.

He hadn’t slept a wink by the time his alarm went off, and he knew he looked like hell. He felt like hell. He threw on jeans and a t-shirt—a far cry from his usual bowtie and button up—and went to the bathroom. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. He ran a comb through his hair but didn’t bother to gel it. His coffee was tasteless and his breakfast felt like cardboard in his mouth. He only took three bites. His mother gave him a disapproving look, but Blaine didn’t care. Today she’d scold his appearance—what would she be scolding a week from now? If only she knew what was going to happen, Blaine thought. Her world is going to change this week and she has no idea. He almost felt bad for her. Almost. 

He couldn’t even play it cool at school that day. He turned in unfinished homework and every single teacher looked at him with worry in their eyes. He told them he’d been sick. They bought it. Idiots. He hardly spoke to anybody, hardly looked at anybody. He barely touched his food at lunch, even with the concerned looks his new friends were shooting him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kurt shake his head, silently telling them not to ask. It was a small action, barely noticeable, but it made him feel bad. Well, worse.

            Kurt was amazing. Having to hide his relationship from his father musts have been hard on him—he and his dad had an amazing relationship, one Blaine would envy until the day he died, and he didn’t think Kurt had ever lied to him before. Not like this, anyway. But Kurt never complained. He felt Kurt squeeze his hand under the table and then quickly pull it away. He was helping Blaine. He was protecting Blaine. He never drew any attention to their relationship at school, or any public place for that matter. He wanted Blaine to stay invisible, didn’t want him to endure the things he had to. If that meant he couldn’t hold his hand at school then so be it. Kurt gave and gave and Blaine thought that all he did was take.  Blaine looked at Kurt. He looked at the way his hands moved as he spoke. He looked at his perfect skin—Porcelain, the cheerleading coach had called him. She was right. Kurt’s arms were muscular under his shirt, but somehow still soft. They looked strong, but the kind of strong that could hold a person tight, not punch a person out. His shoulders were broad, leading to his perfect neck. Blaine wanted to kiss that neck, leave marks on that skin. He looked at Kurt’s chestnut hair, always styled so perfectly. Blaine wanted to run his fingers through it, but didn’t dare. Kurt might kill him if he did.

            Blaine would never get over the color of Kurt’s eyes. Were they blue? Grey? Were they a dream? They were the color of the ocean, the color of the sky, the color of heaven. He could stare into them all day. What Blaine liked the best about Kurt, though, were his lips. They were so red, so soft. So kissable. Blaine loved the feeling of them against his mouth. He had never liked anything more than he liked kissing Kurt. He felt so loved when they kissed, so wanted. He had always been alone, but when Kurt kissed him he felt like he’d never be alone again. Like everything he ever wanted was his.

Take, take, take.

            What had he ever given Kurt besides a secret to keep and a lie to tell? He’d have to do better for Kurt. He wanted to give him everything. He needed to tell his parents. Get over yourself, Anderson. Just do it.

            But he couldn’t. He crawled in bed that night with angry tears sliding down his face. He was so weak. What did Kurt even see in him? He remembered what Kurt had said to him that day by the pond, that he thought there was a cool person in him if he’d give himself a chance. He hated himself for letting Kurt down. He picked up his phone and sent him a text:

            I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.

            He got out of bed and paced some more. On Friday he’d been so sure he wanted to tell his parents. He was still sure—why couldn’t he just do it? His phone beeped.

            It’s okay, baby. Whenever you’re ready. XO

            Blaine collapsed on his bed. The sobs he’d been holding back rushed out of him. His whole body shook and he wrapped his arms around himself. He buried his face in his pillow so his parents wouldn’t hear. He screamed.

            Kurt was so understanding, so patient. He let Blaine think and worry and overanalyze, all the while gently encouraging him. Kurt deserved the best of everything because he was the best of everything. And Blaine was pathetic. He could never give Kurt what he deserved.

            The sleep Blaine got that night was scattered between nightmares he couldn’t remember upon waking. He felt exhausted. His whole body was shaking. With fear? Fatigue? Anticipation? Blaine couldn’t tell. He looked even worse than yesterday. He felt even worse than yesterday. Once again, he hadn’t done his homework. Once again his teachers believed him when he said he was ill.

            Kurt was worried. All of New Directions was worried; he could see it in their eyes. They were his friends. They knew, they accepted him. They were keeping him together and they didn’t even know it. All they knew was that something was wrong. They didn’t know how to help. Blaine couldn’t do this to them. He pulled Kurt aside after lunch.

            “Kurt, can we go to the Lima Bean after school today? I want to talk.”

            “Of course. I’ll meet you at your locker,” Kurt said, relief in his eyes. Good, Blaine. Give. He felt proud of himself for asking Kurt for help. He never asked for help, he never needed it. He needed it now, though, he knew that, so he asked. It was both give and take, but it was a start.

Blaine ran his fingers up and down his cup of coffee, staring blankly at the table. Kurt sat across from him, patiently waiting for him to speak. How can anybody have this much patience? Finally Blaine looked over at him and began.

“I want to tell my parents, Kurt. I need to tell them. I just don’t know how. Every time I get in a room with them I start to panic and I chicken out. And I’m freaking out because I want to tell them but I’m scared, but then I just get angry with myself for being so pathetic so then I get even more worked up and I, just, I don’t know what to do!”

“You’re not pathetic, Blaine, don’t even say that.” Kurt said. “Now, are you sure you’re ready to tell them?”

“Yes. I want them to know, I want to stop lying and hiding it from everybody. It’s exhausting and I’m sick of it.”

“Then it sounds like we need to make a plan. Together. A checklist, like the ones you’re always making. Then you just need to check off each step as you go.”

“You’re amazing, Kurt,” Blaine whispered. How did he understand him so well?

“I know, I can’t help it. Now, when do you want to do it? Pick a day.” Blaine pondered for a moment. Today was Tuesday, and he definitely wanted to tell his parents by the weekend—he didn’t want a repeat of the previous one. Friday night his parents had some sort of function, so that was out. That left Wednesday or Thursday.

“Thursday,” Blaine said. That would give him one day to go over his plan and hopefully settle his nerves a little.  “I want to do it on Thursday.”

“Okay, do you want to do it at dinner, or after?”

“Um, let’s say after, just in case. I don’t want to ruin the meal.” Kurt frowned at this, but carried on.

“Okay, so, you’ll call them into the living room after dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to say? Do you want a little speech, or do you want to just say it.” Blaine knew himself better than to believe he could actually make it through a speech without breaking down or chickening out.

“I’ll just say it. I’ll just say the words. ‘Mom, Dad. I’m gay.’ That’s all there is to it, right?”

“They may ask questions, Blaine. My dad asked me if I was sure.”

“I am sure, yes. Definitely.”

“Can you do this, Blaine?” Blaine nodded.

“But I think I’d like to tell your dad first, in case it doesn’t go well. Is that okay?” his voice shook with nerves.

“Of course, Blaine. I’d love to tell my dad, and he’ll be really supportive, I promise. And it’s probably for the best if he knows what’s happening, I’ll be a nervous wreck all night. You have to promise to call me as soon as it’s over, okay?” Blaine smiled.

“Come over Thursday afternoon, before dinner. We’ll tell him then?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Telling Burt was probably the smartest part of the whole plan. Blaine felt so much more at ease after their talk. First, Burt was really supportive, just as Kurt said he’d be. He told Blaine that he was perfect no matter what, that he wasn’t wrong or sinful or anything he may hear, and that he mattered. Second, Burt looked so happy when Kurt told him they were together. He accepted Blaine as Kurt’s boyfriend without a single threat, and said he couldn’t imagine anybody better for his son. Third, he said that Blaine was always welcome at his house, and that if anything went wrong to call. And finally, telling Burt was the first check on his list. The ball was rolling.

Step two: wait until after dinner. Check.

Step three: call mom and dad into the living room

Blaine’s heart was pounding as he stepped through the doorway of the room.

“Mom,” he shouted, “Dad? Can I talk to you guys in the living room for a minute?” Check. He wrung his hands as he heard two sets of footprints approach the room. He smiled at his parents as they came in and sat down, but judging by his mother’s face it came out as more of a grimace.

“Is everything alright, honey?” she asked as Blaine sat on the couch across from them. Blaine could only give a curt nod. He started down at his hands.

Step four: say the words. Say the words, Blaine. Say them ‘I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m gay.’ He felt his parents nerves grow as he sat there silently. His mother crossed and uncrossed her legs, her frown lines growing deeper with each passing second.

“I’m gay,” he whispered. His parents froze.

“Speak up, son,” his father demanded, though Blaine knew he’d heard the first time.

“I’m gay. I like guys.” Check. You did it, Blaine You did it! He looked anxiously up at his parents, who looked pointedly at each other, then back at Blaine.

“Are you sure? Is this a phase, Blaine?” If he wasn’t so anxious he would have smiled. Kurt predicted that question. But Blaine was too tense right now. He could barely breathe and his entire body was stiff.

“I’m sure, dad. I’ve known for a while, enough time to realize it’s not a phase.” Everyone sat silently, staring back and forth at one another. Blaine didn’t think he’d ever been in a more tense room in his entire life. He felt himself start to panic and put his head between his hands, waiting for the outburst.

“Right,” Blaine’s father said as he stood. He helped his mother up, who was staring at Blaine with an unreadable expression. “Thank you for telling us,” he continued as he lead Blaine’s mother out of the room.

That was it.

Blaine sat unmoving as he listened to his parents footsteps move towards their bedroom. He heard the door shut behind them, and then nothing.  

He sat on the couch for a few minutes trying to calm himself down, but he could feel his hands shaking, and it was taking everything he had to control his breathing. He picked up the phone and called Kurt.

“Blaine! How’d it go?” Kurt picked up after the first ring.

“Can I come over?” his voice wasn’t as strong as he would have liked, and Kurt picked up on it immediately.

“What happened, Blaine? Is everything okay?” Blaine winced at the concern in Kurt’s voice. He didn’t want him to worry. It wasn’t so bad.

“I don’t know. Can I just come over, please? Just for a little while.” He let one small sob escape his body before he closed his eyes and counted his breaths.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Kurt! I’m fine!”

“Okay, Blaine. And of course you can come over. I’ll be waiting.” Blaine grabbed his car keys and his laptop before heading to Kurt’s.

When he pulled into their driveway he realized he didn’t remember a moment of the drive, but he was glad he got there safely. Kurt would have killed him if something had happened.

Kurt.

 Blaine ran to the front door, which opened as soon as he stepped onto the porch. Kurt lead him to the living room. Burt was there too, waiting to hear what happened. Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand as they sat down. The two Hummels just sat silently, waiting for Blaine to speak. It must be genetic, Blaine thought.

“My dad thanked me for telling them, then he grabbed my mom and they went to their room. She didn’t even say anything, she just looked at me.” Blaine said after a few tense moments. He didn’t meet their eyes as he said it, and he kept them on his socks while them to took in what he said.

“Was that it?” Burt asked.

“Yeah, that was it.” They exchanged glances, but neither knew what to say. Blaine was sure they were thinking the same thing he was—what does that mean? Blaine was thankful it didn’t go worse, that they didn’t kick him out or scream at him or, he could barely think it, hurt him. But they didn’t even react, which Blaine thought was almost more terrifying. He hoped they’d say more after they had some time to think about it.

“Can we go to your room, Kurt? I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Kurt said, communicating silently with Burt. They just understood each other, Burt and Kurt. Blaine didn’t know if he’d ever understand it, but he was thankful Kurt had that in his life.

He sat heavily on Kurt’s bed and Kurt scooted in next to him.

“I don’t really feel like talking. Is that okay? Can I still stay?”

“Whatever you need, Blaine. I know you’ve had a rough night.” Blaine crossed his legs and wiped a tear from his face. He just needed to be in his own head for a bit. He didn’t want to talk about it; he didn’t want to focus on anything. He just wanted to think, and Kurt was letting him. He hoped Kurt didn’t think it was rude of him to come over and not say anything. They could deal with that later, though.

Blaine sat once again with his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He sat like this for what felt like hours, just replaying what had happened that night. He played the scene over and over in his head, hoping to find something he hadn’t seen before. He thought about what would happen when he went home that night, or when all three were home over the weekend. Would they talk to him? If they did, would they talk about it? Would they be mad when he got home? What if they tried to send him to one of those camps? What if he went home and they hugged him and told him they loved him no matter what? What if they met Kurt and liked him? If he got home and they kicked him out, would Burt let him stay with them? Where would he go if he didn’t? You need to stop, Blaine thought. You’re only making it worse.

Blaine reached for his laptop and set it on the bed. He opened World of Warcraft, hoping it would be enough of an escape. It was only as it was loading that he felt the small, soothing circles Kurt was rubbing on his back. He looked over at him, then, and saw him flipping through an old issue of Vogue. Blaine felt the tears slide down his face as he looked at the beautiful boy next to him, the boy who didn’t mind that Blaine just needed to be alone in his head, who effortlessly soothed him while filling the empty time with his own thoughts. He let Blaine escape to his own world and waited uncomplainingly for him to come back. Suddenly, Blaine realized that he would never find anybody better than Kurt. He turned back to his game, though his head wasn’t in it. The thoughts of the night still filled his mind, but he slowly relaxed over the next few hours. He felt so much better than he had when he arrived, and he put the laptop away. He turned to Kurt and laid down on his chest.

“Thank you, Kurt,” he said, and the boy put down his magazine and wrapped his arms around Blaine.

“You don’t need to thank me. My dad and I are always here if you need us, Blaine, no matter what.”

“You really are amazing, Kurt. I’m so grateful for you, for everything you’ve done for me. These last two months have been the best of my life.” Blaine knew Kurt would scold him if he thanked him again, so instead he wrapped his arms a little tighter around him, hoping it would portray the words he couldn’t say. Kurt just squeezed him tightly back and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m so proud of you, Blaine. For tonight and for everything. You’ve changed so much since I met you, you’ve grown so much. You make me so proud to be with you.”

Blaine smiled and let joyful tears fall from his eyes. He knew in that moment that, whatever Blaine’s parents’ reaction turned out to be, he’d have Kurt by his side.