"Blaine?"

It was his mother who spoke, staring at him like she had no idea who he was.

That hurt more than anything.

He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. There were so many things running through his mind, so many things he wanted to say to them. There was one thing above all, though, that needed to be addressed.

"Is that…?" He couldn't even finish the question, but he knew as he gestured to Alex, now in his own mother's arms, that they knew what he was asking.

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his dad gripped her arm. "Charlotte, I think it's time for us to head back to the house."

"Wait, just like that, you're going to leave again?"

"You left us, Blaine," his father said cooly, looking at him like he used to look at his clients he didn't particularly care for.

Blaine's jaw dropped. "Are…Are you kidding? You kicked me out."

"Let's not rehash the past. We were just picking up a few things for—" his mother broke off in the middle of her sentence, glancing at Alex in her arms.

"For my brother," Blaine finished, and somehow, saying the words aloud made it all the more real. "I can't believe it. I have a brother and you didn't tell me? You couldn't even send a postcard?"

"We're no longer obligated to you in any form whatsoever. We signed off that responsibility to Laurel. What we do is not your business anymore, and vice versa. Clearly." His dad threw a sharp, pointed glance at Kurt.

Fuck. Kurt was standing right beside him, witnessing everything. Suddenly, he realized that his arm was still around Kurt's waist, gripping him so hard he was sure it was going to leave a mark. He dropped his arm as if it'd been burned.

"So, what? Is Alex like…your replacement child? Take Two? Let's see if we can make one that's straight this time?" Blaine clenched his fists at his side.

"This is hardly the place for your dramatics, Blaine," his mother chided. "Let's not reenact that night in a public arena, hmm?"

"Oh, okay. But if we were in the comfort of your own home, it's fine to beat your child, I see now," Blaine spit back. He knew his voice was growing in volume; people were starting to turn and stare.

"Blaine," Kurt murmured, voice gentle, "let's go. Come on, this isn't good for you—"

"Fuck what's good for me," Blaine shouted, stepping away from Kurt and towards his parents. People were definitely watching now. "Do you know how many years I've waited for this? Four years. It's been almost four years since you broke my ribs and threw me out on the streets for being gay. I bet you didn't know about that, did ya, Dad? You broke eight of my ribs. If you look closely, you can still see some permanent bruising. But you have to look real close, because not even Kurt has noticed it yet.

"Oh, yeah, that guy behind me?" Blaine turned and gestured to Kurt, who was looking on, just as shell-shocked as the rest of the crowd. "That's my boyfriend Kurt. He's great. We're going to NYU together; I leave Saturday. I bet you didn't know that either, huh? I got a scholarship for music there. I graduated high school and everything. The stuff you miss when you abandon your kid, right?"

"Blaine, that's enough," Kurt said, standing beside him but knowing better from prior experience than to touch him right now. "You've said what you had to say. We can go now."

"Like hell I have. I've only just begun. Don't you want to stay and see how much fun me and my mommy and daddy have all together again for the first time since I was 14 years old? The first time since I was fourteen fucking years old. Not a call, not a letter, not a visit, nothing. Who does that to their own kid?"

"Momma," Alex piped up, starting to cry, "he's yelling."

And just like that, Blaine's heart broke.

Because right in front of his eyes, he was seeing a younger version of himself fall apart just like he did. He remembered being that young and trailing after his parents at the grocery store; he remembered all the fighting; he remembered how much it sucked as a kid to live in a house where someone was constantly yelling.

Here he was doing the exact same thing to his…god, his little brother.

"Oh, that's right," Blaine continued, voice now at a normal volume, "the same parents that let their 3 year old son wander the store by himself. You know he could have been kidnapped? But then, I guess he'd probably be better off with a stranger who molested him every night than with you two."

He heard Kurt gasp behind him, along with the crowd, and was already walking away, heading for the exit before Kurt had time to say anything or his parents or anybody.

He was so done.

The second he walked out into the parking lot, though, he ran over and leaned his hand against a pole, arm extended, and threw up.

Kurt was there, rubbing a soothing palm over his back just like that night at Scandals.

"I'm taking you home, okay?"

Blaine shook his head. "The party. We have to go to the party."

"Blaine, you're not going to a party like this; not after what just happened. I'm taking you back to your house and putting you in bed."

"I'm not fucking tired," he snapped. Then, realizing who he snapped to, he took a calming breath and repeated in a softer tone, "I'm not tired. You worked hard on planning this thing in less than a week. I saw my parents, big deal."

"It is a big deal." Kurt spun Blaine around and wiped at his forehead, pulling him into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Blaine."

"Can we just…I just want to forget about it, okay? I just want to go to your house and meet your friends and see mine and distract myself with mindless chatter and plans for the year."

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Please, Kurt." Blaine pulled back and stared into Kurt's eyes, trying to convey just how badly he needed this.

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes. Blaine knew Kurt well enough now to know that Kurt was thinking really hard, weighing his options, trying to figure out what was best for them in that moment. After a minute, he nodded. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. We're going to my house, you're going to mingle for an hour, and after that I'm having Laurel take you home. Okay?"

Blaine groaned; he'd completely forgotten Laurel would be there too. He so didn't want to do this with her right now. "Can you not tell Laurel what just happened?"

"Blaine, I don't think—"

"Please. Just…not right now. If we told her now she'd freak out and throw me in the car the second she heard the story. I've let my parents ruin my entire high school years; I'm not letting them ruin my last high school party."

"Fine."

Upon reaching an agreement, the boys headed back to Kurt's car—groceries completely forgotten—and drove over to Kurt's house. The ride was silent, and it went by so fast Blaine thought for a second he might have gone to sleep. No, he reminded himself, you were just convincing yourself that you're anywhere but here.

When Kurt turned onto his street, there were already 3 cars there—one of them taking his parking spot on the driveway—so he pulled up to a stop on the curb and turned off the engine.

"Now, if at any moment you want to get away from everyone or you want to leave early, just—"

"I'll be fine, Kurt."

He climbed out of the car before Kurt could protest any further and was already entering the house before Kurt had even managed to lock the car behind them.

Finn was the first to greet him. "Hey, man. It's good to see you."

"You saw me yesterday, Finn," Blaine pointed out.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't like seeing you."

"Who's already here, Finn?" Kurt asked, shutting the front door and moving to stand at Blaine's side, taking Blaine's hand in his.

Finn shrugged. "Some of Blaine's friends, plus Mike and Tina. I told them they could all just head out back and chill 'til you two got back from the store. Hey, where's the food?"

Kurt slapped his free hand against his forehead. "Shit. Um…we forgot."

"You forgot? But you were gone for a long time."

"We got distracted."

Finn still looked dubious, so Blaine decided it was time for one of his famous interjections. "We pulled over on the way here to make out in the backseat. Want to see the hickey Kurt gave me as proof?"

Finn immediately shut his eyes and started backing out of the room. "No way, dude. That's gross. I don't want to see all that. Just…I'm going to raid my secret stash of food in my room and see what I can come up with."

"Of course you have a secret stash," Kurt said.

To any normal person, it would have just sounded like Kurt being Kurt, but Blaine could hear the relief in his voice at Blaine's excuse. Finn was already up the stairs and, presumably, in his room, so Kurt turned to Blaine.

"Thank you."

"I'm an expert at coming up with fake stories on the spot. Let's go see which of my friends are here."

Despite his concerns over Blaine, Kurt's face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically, practically dragging Blaine out to the backyard. When they stepped out onto the deck, Blaine immediately spotted David and Trent sitting at a patio table talking, and Wes standing in front of who he assumed to be Mike and Tina, also chatting amiably. Trent looked up as Kurt and Blaine came outside and smiled.

"Hey, Blaine!"

Everyone stopped talking and turned around to face Kurt and Blaine, shouting out their own greetings.

"Hi," Kurt greeted, smiling. He eyed the trio of Wes, Mike and Tina oddly, then asked, "Do you three already know each other?"

"The Asian community is very tight," Mike replied, arm around Tina's shoulders.

Kurt just kept smiling and nodded his head, a trick Blaine knew he learned from an acting class last summer.

"It's called the nod and smile," Kurt had said, "When someone says something you don't agree with, or when they say something strange that you don't really understand or particularly care about, you just nod and smile."

"Um, Trent, Wes, David, this is my boyfriend Kurt," Blaine said, gesturing with his free hand to his boyfriend beside him. "Kurt, that's Wes, and Trent and David." He pointed to them all as he introduced them, and all three of them waved in greeting.

David stood up and came over to shake Kurt's hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Kurt. We've heard a lot about you. Thanks for inviting us to your party."

"Likewise. Blaine talks about all of his adventures with you and Wes at Dalton all the time. And, Trent, I'd love to discuss fashion with you later. Blaine tells me you're going into fashion design."

Trent's face brightened and he grinned, nodding. "Absolutely!"

Kurt turned his attention to his friends. "Mike, Tina, do you know what time everyone else will be arriving?"

As if on cue, Blaine heard more voices and what sounded like something rolling behind him; he turned to see a kid in a wheelchair being pushed in by a guy with a mohawk, a blonde boy and a black girl behind them holding hands.

"What up, y'all? Who's ready to get their party on?" the kid in the wheelchair said, raising his arms.

Blaine forced a laugh at how the white, nerdy kid in a wheelchair was trying to sound like a "gangsta."

"Dude, Kurt, why didn't you tell us your boyfriend was such a hottie? You better be tappin' that," the mohawk kid said, parking the kid in the wheelchair at the table and strolling up to Blaine, clapping a hand on his back. "Sup, dude? I'm Puck." Puck leaned in closer and whispered in Blaine's ear, "Don't worry, I didn't bring alcohol. Kurt threatened me with castration. At first, I was like, 'screw it, I'm getting drunk no matter what Kurt says,' but then I googled it so I definitely left the booze at home."

"Thanks," Blaine said, frowning in confusion at how strange Kurt's friends were. "I appreciate that."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, that's Puck. That's Artie, and that's Sam and Mercedes." Again, Kurt gestured to each individual as he said their names, and each one gave a little wave.

Blaine could already tell that there was no way he was going to be able to keep track of everybody. These were all names he'd heard all summer, but to try and match them all to the right faces all night would prove to be a taxing chore with everything else on his mind.

And there it was. Blaine had been trying to put it from his mind, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He had a brother. A brother. A three-year-old named Alexander. Alexander Anderson. Blaine wondered what his middle name was, what his favorite crayon to draw with was, what stuffed animal he slept with at night. He longed to know this brother he didn't even know he had until less than an hour ago. And Alex, no doubt, had no idea who Blaine was. His parents would probably make up something along the lines of Blaine just being some crazy person and that's why he's not allowed to talk to strangers. Was he even old enough for that talk? How old was Blaine when they had that talk with him?

His mind wandered back to the picture he found in the drawer of his dresser. A family portrait. They make you draw family portraits in school, right? Alex was too young for real school, but knowing his parents, he was probably in the most prestigious preschool around. It hurt to know that when Alex was instructed to draw a family portrait, it was of his mother, his father, and Alex. Where was Blaine?

He didn't exist.

"Blaine," Kurt murmured with a tone that implied it wasn't the first time he'd called his name.

Blaine snapped up to notice that everyone was staring at him.

"Oh. What? I'm sorry. I was…" He trailed off. What was he doing?

"Thinking?" Kurt supplied.

"Yeah."

An awkward silence fell over everyone before David started over to Blaine. "Hey, Blaine, how about we go chat inside for a second? You can show me where I can get a drink; I know you practically live here just as much as you live with Laurel."

"Great idea, David. Blaine knows where everything is," Kurt said, smiling—it was forced, and Blaine decided he didn't like to see that same fake smile he'd seen on his family's faces so many times plastered on Kurt's. It was wrong there.

Blaine followed David into the house, shutting the sliding glass door behind them. David started to veer off in the wrong direction, so Blaine reached out a hand and grabbed his arm, tugging him back.

"That's the laundry room. The kitchen is this way."

David chuckled. "Of course."

When they reached the kitchen, Blaine went straight to the fridge to check out the prospects. "Okay, so you can have water or milk or—"

"Blaine, I didn't actually want anything to drink. You know that."

He sighed and straightened up, closing the door of the fridge and turning to his friend. "Yeah. I know."

"Just tell me what happened and this will all go a lot faster."

"I—…When Kurt and I went to the store, we saw—…I have a—…"

"Spit it out, Blaine."

He opened his mouth to try again, but spotted Kurt in the doorway and sighed in relief, throwing Kurt a pleading look.

"We saw his parents at the grocery store," Kurt informed him, Wes in tow.

Wes' eyes practically bulged out of his head and David gasped.

"Well, fuck me in the mouth with a wooden baseball bat," David said.

Kurt gave him a strange look. "Eloquent."

"That's not all," Blaine added, fully used to and ignoring David's strange phrases.

"That's more than enough, I'd say," Wes offered.

Blaine agreed, but didn't voice as much aloud. He looked at Kurt again, who was looking at him like his heart was breaking. For the first time, Blaine understood when people in love said to each other When you hurt, I hurt, too. He could see his own pain reflected in Kurt's eyes and knew that Kurt was feeling this just as much as he was. It was comforting to know he could share some of this with someone; he didn't have to deal with it on his own.

"Blaine has a brother," Kurt finished, stepping over to where Blaine was leaning with his back against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest.

He knew Wes and David were having a shitfit right now, but all he could see was Kurt in front of him, taking his face in his hands. Which was good, because he felt a panic attack coming on, which just made him panic even more because he didn't want to have a panic attack right now, and it made him panicky to panic.

"Shit," he heard Kurt mutter.

That was all he heard, though. He saw Wes and David move into his vision, standing behind Kurt on either side. He could see all their lips moving, all of them trying to talk to him, but all he could hear was his blood pumping, his heart pounding in his ears. He was desperately trying to breathe, but it felt like he had been submerged underwater and he was filling his lungs with heavy liquid.

He brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed the bases of his palms against his eyeballs, sliding down the refrigerator and sinking to the ground. All at the same time, he was trying to get his head to stop pounding, his heart to stop beating so hard in his chest, his lungs to take in air instead of water, his life to stop spiraling out of control.

Why was it that just when things were starting to look up for him, something from his past had to come back and fucking ruin everything?

"Blaine."

Kurt was grasping Blaine's hands in his, trying to pull them away from his head, probably to get Blaine to look at him.

"He needs water," he heard Wes saying.

"Blaine, look at me."

"Kurt, where are the cups?"

"The cupboard next to the one you're looking in now. Blaine, sweetheart, open your eyes; look at me. I'm right here."

"Blaine, man, come on," this time it was David, "It's us. We've got you. You're okay."

"Honey, I'm here. Hold on to my hands. Listen to my voice. Look at my face."

A calming feeling washed over him and his heart didn't seem so erratic anymore, and the water level in his lungs was receding; he tentatively lowered his hands, still grasping Kurt's tightly in his, and looked into his boyfriend's eyes.

"'Honey' wasn't on the list of approved terms of endearment," Blaine stated, panting.

He could feel all of the tension leave the room, and Wes kneeled beside him, holding out a cup of water. "Here. Drink this."

Too tired to argue, Blaine took the cup and downed it in 3 gulps.

Finn chose that moment to come downstairs, pulling a wagon filled with junk food behind him. He stopped short when he saw the scene in the kitchen.

"Uhh…"

"Not now, Finn," Kurt sighed. For once, he didn't sound irritated with his stepbrother; just exhausted. Blaine knew it was because of him. He was wearing his boyfriend out just by being a part of his life. All of these ups and downs were enough to give Blaine whiplash, he could imagine with Kurt sharing it all, he felt the same way. The worst part was, he didn't even have to. He was staying through it all because he wanted to. Who in their right mind would want to experience something like this all the time? "Can you just take all that food out back and keep everyone entertained?"

"Sure. Feel better, Blaine."

"Thanks, Finn."

Finn left the room, his wagon trailing behind him.

"Kurt, I only just met your stepbrother, but I already think he's a freak of nature," Wes said.

"Was that a wagon of junk food?" David added.

"Don't ask," Kurt replied in that same worn-out tone. His eyes hadn't left Blaine's the entire time, but now his attention was solely focused on him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Blaine lied.

Kurt frowned, releasing one of Blaine's hands to lift his own and wipe at Blaine's cheeks. Oh. There were tears there. When had that happened? Kurt leaned forward and kissed each of Blaine's cheeks where tears had left their paths behind.

"You're a terrible liar," he whispered, pulling back.

"You were singing a different tune earlier when I lied to Finn about where we were," Blaine pointed out.

"Blaine."

He sighed, knowing by Kurt's expression that this was not the time for that kind of light-hearted conversation.

"You want me to talk about it? Fine. Let's talk about it. I see my parents today for the first time in 4 years and they act like I'm just some teenager they met in passing one day, one they don't even like. It's funny, I've always said how much they don't care, how they're not going to want to talk to me again, how they disowned me, but that was just me putting on a brave face, you know? In the back of my mind, I always kind of hoped that Laurel would be right, and that maybe if I just gave them enough time they would come around and want to be in my life again. But today, they just said everything I've been saying, and somehow it hurt more to hear it thrown at me from them than from myself."

He paused to take a breath and wipe at his eyes, glancing at the faces of his two best friends and his boyfriend; all three of them looked heartbroken, but like they didn't know what to say. He couldn't blame them. If he were in their shoes, he had no idea what he'd say.

"And then Alex! I have a little brother named Alexander Anderson. That's all I know about him. It's funny, actually, because he just kind of ran into me and Kurt while we were grocery shopping, and just before we got him back to his—our parents—Kurt was saying how much he looked like me. Then he was running over to Richard and Charlotte Anderson, calling them 'momma' and 'daddy.' I mean, how am I supposed to react to that? I have a little brother—fuck. I don't know a thing about him. He's three, so Mom and Dad must've gotten busy as soon as they got rid of me to try to make another kid, one who wasn't going to screw up and be a fag."

"That's enough," Kurt said. He no longer sounded tired, but determined. "Your parents have already torn you down far too much for being gay; I won't have you doing it too. You did not screw up for being who you are, Blaine."

"I have permanent bruising that begs to differ," Blaine countered.

Before he could protest, Kurt was tugging Blaine to his feet and lifting his shirt up, crouching down to examine Blaine's abdomen. Blaine could see it on Kurt's face when he found it, the faint bruising that spread all across his torso. It was one of those things that, if no one said anything, you wouldn't pick up on it yourself; but if someone pointed it out to you, it was all you could see. Kurt dropped to his knees, pressing gentle kisses all across the skin, covering every inch of discoloration. When he finished, he pulled Blaine's shirt back down and stood up again, kissing Blaine's forehead and gazing into his eyes.

"Those bruises do not define you any more than what happened with Trevor does."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Blaine's eyes flickered to the source of it. Funny, until Wes gasped, he'd forgotten that his two best friends were even still in the room. They had moved to stand against the counter by the sink.

"Blaine, you didn't tell us Kurt knew about Trevor," Wes said. Blaine appreciated the fact that Wes said Trevor's name like he said the words "murder," "rape," and "terrorist."

"Why does everyone always freak out that I know about Trevor? Michael did the same thing," Kurt sighed, obviously exasperated that they were focusing on Trevor and not on what was happening in the present.

David spoke this time, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. "Michael? When did you see Michael?"

"About two weeks ago," Kurt answered shortly. "He told me I was crazy for sticking around, said all kinds of awful things about Blaine. Really, Blaine, I thought these guys were your best friends. How do they not know all of this?"

Blaine shrugged. "Sorry."

Honestly, Trevor and Michael were the least of his worries right now, and he didn't understand why everyone was focusing on them and not on his parents and his brother.

"Look," he explained, "I told Kurt about Trevor, okay? Yes, I told him everything. No, by everything I don't mean the Laurel version, I mean the version you guys were there to witness. We ran into Michael at a gay bar and he flipped his shit because I was punching the crap out of his boyfriend, who also happened to be the guy who bullied Kurt all through high school."

"Fuck, okay, wait a second. I need to process all of this," Wes inserted, rubbing his temples.

"Blaine," David's voice was soft and almost sounded like it had a twinge of…hurt to it. "I thought you were done with the violent stuff."

Kurt was quick to defend him. "He is. Karofsky had it coming for years. Blaine hasn't laid a finger on me, or on anyone in my family that night when we came back and he was drunk."

"You were drunk? You know better than that!"

"It was my fault, David. Don't get mad at Blaine. And as much as I love relaying all of this information to the two of you, this can be saved for later; there are more important things that have happened much more recently that still have yet to be dealt with, don't you think?"

"What's more important than getting drunk and having fun?"

All four boys whipped their heads to a new voice that had appeared in the doorway. Blaine's eyes lighted on a beautiful Latina girl and her equally blonde counterpart.

Kurt moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and talking to himself. "Santana. I warned Puck, why did I not think to warn Santana?"

"Oh, please. I was at those Cheerios parties too, Hummel, I know how much fun you like to have with alcohol. As luck would have it, Auntie Tana just arrived with what her abuela used to put in her baby bottles instead of breast milk." The Latina—Santana—held up a bottle of liquor, smirking.

"Is that…tequila?" Wes asked, squinting his eyes to read the label.

Honestly, at that point, Blaine didn't even care. All he knew was that the answer to all of his problems was in that girl's hand. It was perfect, really. Wes and David wanted to talk about Trevor and Michael, Kurt wanted to talk about Blaine's family, and Blaine didn't want to talk at all; he needed something to help him forget this entire day even happened. And, as Santana had said, it was just his luck that the exact escape he was looking for was staring him in the face.

Blaine was across the room and snatching the bottle out of Santana's hand before anyone even had time to process he'd done it.

"Hey! You're sharing that, hobbit. I didn't just bring that for you."

Just as he had unscrewed the cap and was tipping the glass container to take a sip—or gulp, whichever—it was being ripped out of his hands.

"Kurt," he said, voice low, "give it back."

"Not a chance in hell."

In one swift movement, the liquid was being poured down the sink.

Santana cried out in protest, the blonde girl beside her finally piping up to say, "It's okay, San, I saw lots more at your house."

"Doesn't matter; that was expensive shit!"

"Go out back, Santana. That's where everyone else is." Kurt's voice had that tired tone to it again, and it killed Blaine even more this time.

His one shred of hope had just swirled down into the sewage system and he couldn't even really bring himself to do anything about it, so he just observed.

"Yeah, your party is just going to be so much fun without alcohol."

"It's long overdue that you learn how to have fun sober. Go. Puck is out there, I'm sure you two can find something sufficiently criminal to do together. Just try not to burn anything down, okay?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Come on, Britts." She took the blonde's hand and started leaving the room, calling over her shoulder, "And you're paying me back for that!"

Kurt sighed and set the bottle down on the counter.

"Your friends sure are…"

Wes trailed off, so David finished, "colorful."

"That's being very generous," Kurt replied, heading over to where Blaine was now standing in the doorway. He took Blaine's face in his hands yet again, forcing him to look him directly in the eyes. "I'm not going to let you do that again, Blaine. Alcohol is not the answer to your problems."

"It could be if you loosened my leash a little," Blaine spat, throwing Kurt's hands away and taking a couple steps to the side.

Even as he did it, he knew he shouldn't have. Kurt wasn't who he was mad at; Kurt was the last person he wanted to be mad at. His boyfriend was being nothing but supportive right now, and here he was taking out his anger on him. It wasn't fair. Was this how it was always going to be? If so, he didn't know how much longer he could put Kurt through that. He could already hear it in Kurt's voice, the toll their relationship was taking on him.

"Don't take it out on Kurt, Blaine, he's just trying to help." David had on his Stern Voice, the one he always used when Blaine got out of hand like this. And for some reason, that just pissed him off more than anything.

"Help? I don't need fucking help. Look at me. I think it's a little late for that, don't you?"

"No, I don't," Kurt answered calmly.

"Well, my parents do, and if you don't even have your own parents, who do you have? I have nobody. I'm on my own; always have been, always will be."

"Blaine Daniel Anderson." Kurt's demeanor immediately shifted at Blaine's words. He moved to stand directly in front of Blaine again, glaring hard at him but careful not to touch him. "You can be angry, and you can use all the crude language you want, and you can say all the hurtful things you want, because I know at the end of the day you don't mean them and you'll fall into my arms sobbing about it later, but you will not stand there and tell me that you are alone. In just this kitchen, you have Wes and David standing behind me. At home, you have Laurel. Upstairs, you have Burt and Carole. In the backyard, you have Finn and Trent and a majority of the New Directions, all of which would probably stick up for you if the need arose simply because you're my boyfriend and they know I love you.

"Did you catch that last part? I love you. I am here for you. I have been here for you since the day we met and I have not taken a step back once since then. Don't you dare stand there and say to me that you have nobody; that you're alone. You and I both know that isn't true. It hurts me to hear you say that; it hurts me to watch you yell at me and rip yourself away from me and completely discount everything I've done for you. Don't you care about that? Don't you care about how I feel?"

"No offense, Kurt, but right now isn't really about how you feel," Blaine snapped.

For a moment, Blaine was positive Kurt would slap him. This was the part where Trevor would have done it, if he hadn't long before. Kurt raised a hand and there was just that second where Blaine was absolutely sure he was going to do it, but then he didn't. He clenched his fist and brought it back down to his side.

"Fine. You're right. Right now, it's about you. It's about you, and your parents, and your brother. The thing is, Blaine, you've already talked about it. This is normally the point where you just want to escape, normally with sleep, but when Santana walked in with that tequila, you saw that as your open opportunity, didn't you? Who needs sleep when you can just drink the night away, forget all the pain and the hurt and how much life just sucks sometimes, am I right?"

Blaine opened his mouth to say yes, that was exactly what he needed, but Kurt ploughed on.

"No. I'm not letting you do that. It's not healthy, Blaine. You heard Santana; I tried that route for a couple of months when the bullying just got to be too much to deal with. But you know what? It didn't help. It made me forget about it for a few hours and then I woke up feeling worse than before, and when I went back to school, guess what? My problems were still there; Karofsky was still there; the slushie machine was still there. It's fun for a little while, if you keep track and make sure you're using it in moderation, but alcohol doesn't take away your problems, it just adds to them. And right now, you don't need any more problems to deal with. It already kills me to see how much you have to deal with; we're not adding alcoholism to the list."

The kitchen fell silent.

Kurt was right. He couldn't do this to himself; to Kurt. He was already hurting Kurt enough with everything, he couldn't keep doing this. Kurt deserved better than this.

"Okay," Blaine said.

Kurt reached up a tentative hand, letting it hover just beside Blaine's head. Blaine knew he was testing the waters, seeing if touching was allowed now, so he took the hand in his and kissed Kurt's palm.

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered against Kurt's skin, making his way to Kurt's wrist and around the top of his hand.

"I know."

A girl's voice broke into the house. "Finn? Kurt? Is everyone out back? You know, it's very rude to host a party and not answer the door when your guests knock as they arrive. There should be some sort of system, a sign on the door or—Oh, you're in the kitchen. Hello, Kurt. Is this Blaine? Hello, Blaine, my name is Rachel Berry. It's a pleasure to meet you. Kurt has told me so much about you; it's lovely to finally see your face. You know, I have two gay dads, and from the pictures of you two from Kurt's phone, you guys remind me of them. They wanted me to tell you that you make a lovely couple. Kurt, is Finn in the backyard? Never mind, I see him through the glass door, I'll just head out back, since I'm assuming that's where the party is being centered. I'm left to assume because you have no sign. You should really rectify that."

As soon as Rachel Berry had appeared in their midst, she disappeared.

"What…" Wes started.

"The hell…" David continued.

"Was that?" Wes finished.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That was Miss Rachel Berry. A handful, I know."

"I'm a little scared to meet the rest of Kurt's friends," David said.

"That's about all of them," Kurt told them, kissing Blaine on the forehead. "There's only one that has yet to arrive."

Almost as if by the sheer mention of her she showed up, a second blonde with shorter hair was standing in front of them.

"Hey, Kurt. It's nice to see you. You must be Blaine, Kurt talks about you all the time." The girl held her hand out to Blaine, who was still rather wrapped up in Kurt but shook it nonetheless. "I'm Quinn."

"Great to meet you, Quinn," Blaine returned.

"I apologize for Rachel, I tried to rein her in on the ride over here, but it seemed that I only riled her up even more. I'm sorry."

"Did you two drive here together?" Kurt asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes; we've actually started to hang out this summer, which you would know if you ever spent time with anyone other than your gorgeous boyfriend."

Blaine blushed, about to offer his own apologies for hogging Kurt, but was cut off by Wes.

"He's been ignoring you too? Blaine's been blowing us off for weeks for Kurt!"

"I don't believe we've met," Quinn said, walking over to Wes and David. "I'm Quinn."

"Wes."

"David."

"We're Blaine's besties," Wes offered with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you. Shall we go join the party?"

Wes and David looked at Kurt and Blaine, silently asking if everything was under control again.

"Go ahead," Kurt answered aloud. "We'll be right out."

The trio headed to the backyard, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone. The second they heard the sliding door shut on all the noise from outside, Blaine threw his arms around Kurt and held on tight.

"How do you do that?" He muttered into Kurt's neck.

"Do what?"

"You always know exactly what to say to make me sane again without talking to me like a mental patient."

"You're not a mental patient, Blaine. You just have problems; we all do. I've got baggage too, remember?"

Blaine laughed, breath hot against Kurt's skin, as he remembered them quoting those very words from RENT in the arboretum on their first date.

"I remember."

They held each other for a few more minutes before finally rejoining the party after a tumultuous evening.

Nick and Jeff showed up ten minutes later, followed closely by Laurel who brought Burt and Carole downstairs and out to the party. Everyone got along great, just like Kurt and Blaine both knew they would; Kurt's friends loved Blaine, and Blaine's friends adored Kurt. The boys' worlds came together seamlessly, like they were made to fit together.

Blaine decided that maybe that's because they were. He was so wrong earlier when he said that he was on his own; that was one of the mean things he said when he was blinded by rage. Surrounded by friends and family, he could see that clearly. Because, he really was surrounded by his family. He may not have a mother or a father, and his real brother may be kept from him, but family is not defined by genetics. Laurel, of course, was his family, but he also knew that Burt and Carole were his family, Finn was his family, Wes and David were his family, and Kurt was his family.

At the end of the day, Kurt was his home. They say "Home is where the heart is." Just like Laurel said all those weeks ago, Blaine had already handed Kurt his heart on a silver platter. Wherever Kurt was, that was his home, because that was where his heart was.

One day, maybe, he'd be able to contact his brother. When Alex was older, much older, and able to make his own decisions, Blaine would reach out to him. He'd have Laurel help him out if necessary, since she still kept in contact with some of their biological family members. He knew that for the years until then, his heart would ache, knowing the kind of environment Alex was being raised in.

But Kurt reminded him every day that in spite of being brought up by such awful parents, he was turning out to be an okay human being. He still couldn't accept that he was a good person, as Kurt so adamantly insisted, but he didn't think he was bad anymore. Like Kurt, and Jonathan Larson, said: "I've got baggage, too." Everyone has issues. It's how you work through them that define you.

…

Later that night, after all the guests had gone home and Finn had agreed to clean up, Blaine, Kurt, Laurel, Wes, and David all headed over to Blaine and Laurel's apartment. Wes and David agreed to sleep over instead of driving home so late. Blaine and Kurt retired to the bedroom early at Kurt's insistence, but even after Kurt was out like a light, Blaine still couldn't sleep. And lying in bed with Kurt splayed across his chest, elbow digging into his lower abdomen, made him realize that he suddenly had to pee.

As carefully as he could, he slipped out from under Kurt and tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door behind him quietly and padding to the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the voices in the living room.

"It was amazing, Laurel. I've never seen Blaine come back so fast like that." That was Wes.

"Kurt certainly does have a certain way with Blaine that I can't quite put my finger on," Laurel agreed.

"No," David insisted, "you should have seen it. One second, Blaine was practically foaming at the mouth, and the next, he was kissing Kurt's hands. All just because of what Kurt said to him. Do you remember, it used to take us hours to get Blaine to cut that angry bullshit out? Kurt managed to bring him back in under 10 minutes. The guy is magic."

"I know. They're good for each other. When I first met Kurt, he had this whole confident air, but you could just tell it was fake; on the inside, he was this insecure, scared little boy. Now, that's not fake. Kurt really is just happy and has this exuberance that can only be attributed to Blaine's influence. And Blaine, well, you saw for yourself how good Kurt is for him. They balance each other out; it's like they were literally created to be together."

David added, "And they're in love. You can see it in their eyes, in the way they interact with each other."

"Awww, you guys, our little boy is all grown up!" Wes exclaimed, and Blaine could just imagine him fanning his face with his hand, pretending to tear up.

Blaine, on the other hand, really did have tears in his eyes. Everything they were saying was old news to him, but sometimes it felt like Kurt was just a figment of his imagination, a conjuration by his brain to keep him sane. But hearing them talk about him and Kurt, knowing that they saw what he felt all along, comforted him.

He had a loving boyfriend. He had a loving family.

For the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson had everything he ever wanted.