Blaine and I have been spending a lot of time together and I love it. Winter break has given me a lot of free time and none of my teachers really assigned any homework over the break. I just have to read a book for English which I finished earlier on this year. Blaine, on the other hand, has been assigned work for a few of his classes. Regardless, I find myself over at Blaine’s house a lot. His parents seem to like me, especially his mom. Blaine’s dad is nice, but he’s a little distant. Blaine’s has explained to me that that’s just kind of how he is so I try not to take it personally. My friends’ parents always love me but I just try to brush it aside.

I’ve formed a friendship with Blaine’s mom. Just like me, she loves to cook. Sometimes when I’m over and Blaine is busy with his homework, I spend time with her. In the few weeks that I’ve known the woman, she’s felt more like a mom to me than my mother ever has.

Between Christmas and New Years Eve Blaine and I don’t see each other so we decide to spend New Years Day together, at least. For the first time, we decide to meet up at my house. I’m a little hesitant about it because there’s always been that nagging in the back of my mind. What if my dad doesn’t like Blaine? What if he can tell that Blaine is gay and forbids me from being friends with him or ever seeing him again? There’s no way I can explain the bond I share with Blaine because my father doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what I’ve been put through at McKinley. He doesn’t know about any of the bullying or death threats. To him, Blaine is just some kid I met. He doesn’t know that in the two months that I’ve known the boy I’ve fallen in love with him. He doesn’t know that Blaine has suddenly become my rock, my fucking everything.

When the doorbell rings my stomach drops as I race down the stairs to answer it before my mother. I keep my steps light as to not let her know I’m practically flying down them to get to the door before she can. I yank the door open a little too forcefully to find Blaine’s smiling face. Immediately, my heart flutters in a way it only does whenever I see Blaine. We stand there just looking at each other and smiling for a few seconds and then I realize that I’m kind of staring at Blaine and I haven’t even invited him in yet. I practically sputter out the words, “Come in, you must be freezing.” because this winter has been extremely cold, especially the last few days. Blaine smiles gratefully as I step aside allowing him into the house and closing the door behind him. I watch as he shrugs off his coat and tugs at his gray and red scarf before unwinding it from his neck. I love seeing Blaine out of uniform because I have to admit, his fashion sense is almost as good as mine. He looks good in anything. I realize I’m staring again when Blaine looks at me and smiles softly.

“Here, I can take that for you,” I offer, holding out an arm for Blaine’s coat and scarf. I turn to hang it up on the coat rack. When I turn back to look at him, he’s pulled the beanie off of his head and he’s running his fingers through his hair. His untamed, thick black curls. I nearly choke on air as I quickly turn my eyes over to one of the very expensive paintings on the wall. One my father bought while on a business trip to Russia (or something. I kind of zone out when my father talks about his business trips over dinner.) From the corner of my eye, I can see Blaine shoving the hat into the pocket of his hanging coat. I finally look back at Blaine, my eyes immediately falling on his beautiful curly hair. It’s something I have never noticed considering Blaine always puts about two million pounds of gel in his hair. Not that I could really get on his case for using so much gel considering I’m just as guilty with my hairspray.

Suddenly, I just want to reach out and touch his hair. I wonder if it feels as soft a fluffy as it looks. Now I’m staring to feel creepy with these thoughts, so I speak up to stop them from running through my mind. “My mom’s in the kitchen,” I say before signaling him to follow me.

The introduction to my mother is a little awkward. She just kind of smiles and nods offering him a belated merry Christmas. Not much else is said so we excuse ourselves and head up to my room. I’m thankful my father isn’t home because he probably would have made everything twice as awkward.

Once we’re in my room, I walk over to a shelf in the corner lined with all of my movies that I have organized alphabetically. My fingers brush over them as my eyes drift over the various titles. Some old musicals, some new ones, a few animated movies from my childhood. “How about a movie?” I offer, tossing my head over my shoulder to look at Blaine. I do a double take to find that Blaine has managed to wander into my closet like a curious puppy. I laugh softly, turning on the heel of my foot and crossing my arms, a small smile on my face. “What are you doing?” I ask gently.

Blaine’s voice is a little muffled considering he’s already inside my walk-in closet. “This is like heaven,” I hear him say a little awestruck. “My mom’s closet isn’t even this big.”

I arch a brow, still smiling as I drop my arms and walk over to the closet standing at the doorframe to find Blaine looking at my shirts. I’m organized, unlike most boys my age. It’s another thing about me that I’m sure my dad finds strange. Ever since I was young, I had a habit of organizing things--like my closet, for example. When I was about eight my parents took me to a therapist because my father thought I had OCD.

He was wrong.

I smile fondly at Blaine and I can feel butterflies fluttering around in my stomach as he smiles that hundred watt smile of his. He laughs a little as he tugs at a white, fuzzy sweater. “Really?” he asks, eyes falling on me. I duck my head, a little embarrassed and then I laugh. “I swear, it was a phase I went through.”

Blaine rolls his eyes playfully, still smiling and my stomach does this funny little swoop that only happens when Blaine is around.

“Do you wanna try something on?” I ask before I can stop myself. For a moment, I’m mortified. I never let anyone try on my clothes.

But, Blaine is different, I remind myself. Blaine is just Blaine and I would let him do anything.

I can see Blaine’s face light up at my question as his hands stop sifting through the shirts. “That would be…pretty awesome, actually,” he laughs as he looks back at the clothes. “I’m going to look absolutely ridiculous.”

Blaine makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, even with Finn. I remember telling myself that I was in love with Finn, but the things I felt with him were nothing compared to Blaine. I don’t feel like cringing when I watch Blaine emerge from my closet wearing one of my outfits. Instead, I laugh. I laugh harder than I have in a really, really long time. I watch as Blaine pulls a little face at me when I laugh and I wipe at the tears in my eyes as I apologize and explain that the clothes just looks so hilarious because it’s huge on him. And it’s just funny seeing someone else in my incredibly elaborate outfits. I briefly wonder if I look like that and then convince myself that, no, I don’t. Because I’m Kurt Fabray and I can pull anything off.

Blaine is sitting on my desk chair buttoning up his cardigan when my father walks into the room. My stomach drops and my heart nearly stops when I hear his voice as he says my name. He begins to say something but stops half way when he sees Blaine’s unfamiliar face. Almost immediately, Blaine stands, smiling that beautiful smile of his.

“Who’s this?” my father asks a little stiffly.

Before I can get a word in, Blaine is striding over to my father, offering a hand to shake. “Blaine Anderson, sir. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, so you’re Blaine.”

My heart is hammering at my chest at this point and my fingers are digging into the comforter as I watch them from my spot on the edge of the bed. My father is barely smiling as he continues to speak.

“You’re the kid Kurt’s been hanging out with so much.”

“Yes, sir,” Blaine says politely. “I hope you don’t mind me spending New Years Day with Kurt?”

There’s a long pause as my father’s eyes find me. I don’t move, I don’t smile, I don’t say anything. Though, I’m trying to hard to read the expression on his face, but it says absolutely nothing. Suddenly, I’m dying to know what he’s thinking.

“That’s fine,” he finally says as he looks back at Blaine to give him a small nod. His eyes find me again. “Just make sure the house is cleared before five, Kurt,” he says, and then he’s gone.

It’s the first time my father has ever asked me to have one of my guests out of the house by a certain time.

I look at Blaine, expecting to see him a little taken a back by my father’s attitude. However, part of me isn’t surprised to see he isn’t very affected by it. Even though he’s never met the man, he knows what he’s like so he was probably expecting this.

I sigh, raising my hands, the heels of my palms rubbing into my eyes. “Sorry about that,” I mutter softly.

Blaine makes a little noise, brushing off my apology. “It’s not like I didn’t expect it,” he says very quietly before he takes a seat beside me. I drop my hands to my lap and sigh again as Blaine digs into the pocket of his cardigan. He pulls out a little box that’s wrapped in Christmas themed paper.

“…What is that?” I ask slowly.

“Oh, just a little something I decided to get your dad for Christmas,” he responds and I elbow him lightly on the side. He laughs softly before handing me the box. “It’s for you, dummy,” he says finally.

I examine the little box for a few moments before my eyes raise to meet Blaine’s who’s smiling a little.

“I promise, it won’t bite,” he offers and I roll my eyes at him before tearing at the wrapping paper and setting it aside. I uncap the small box to find a little, yellow ceramic owl. Before I can say anything, Blaine is speaking beside me, his voice soft.

“I went to Japan with my parents about a year ago and this woman I met in one of the villages we visited gave it to me. She said it’s a good luck owl. Different colors mean different things. Yellow…” he says as he picks up the little owl and takes the box from me, setting it aside, “symbolizes peace. That trip took place during one of the hardest times in my life. Everything at school was going downhill and the bullying was getting pretty bad.” Blaine looks away from my face and down at the owl. “I’m not superstitious or anything, but...” He shrugs and smiles a little as he reaches out and grabs my hand. My stomach does that funny little swoop again at the physical contact and I smile, silently watching Blaine set the owl in my hand. “I want you to keep it,” he says.

I’m used to getting extravagant gifts for Christmas and my birthday. Like Alexander McQueen clothing and Armani blazers, but this…this was quite possibly the best gift I have ever received in my life. My thumb brushes over the little owl for a moment before my eyes find Blaine who is smiling gently at me.

“Thank you,” I breathe, eyes fluttering a little as I try to will away the tears that are stinging at my eyes. It fails. I watch Blaine’s eyebrows pull together in a concerned look.

“Hey,” he says, “It’s not supposed to make you cry. It’s supposed to make you happy.”

I simply nod. “I’m not sad.” And then I practically throw myself at Blaine, arms wrapping tightly around him, the little owl secure in my hand.

o~o~o~o

Somehow, I find myself standing in front of my parents that night gathering all of the courage I never realized I had. Blaine and I talked for hours about this over coffee. He has managed to convince me that coming out to my parents is the best thing I can do. There’s no sense hiding when everyone knows. He tells me that they’re my parents and that they love me. They’re here to protect me, not push me away. So, that night in my room I decide I’m going to do it. I’m going to finally open up to my parents and stop lying.

“I don’t want to hide anymore.” My father is sitting still on the couch, gripping the glass of scotch, my mother sitting silently beside him. Her eyes are on the ground. “I’m gay,” I finally breathe, my heart racing, my face burning, my body shaking. This tension that has been weighing me down for years has suddenly been lifted with those three words. The words I had screamed in my mind countless times.

“You have one hour,” is his only response. His eyes are still on me. Beside him, I could see my mother finally lift her gaze for the first time since she sat down. She looks over at my father, lips parted. It looks almost as if she is going to say something, but no sound comes out of her mouth. She just stares at him, eyebrows knitting together, her expression matching mine.

“What?” I finally ask, utterly confused.

“You heard me. You have one hour. To pack your belongings and get out.” His voice is cold, unwavering. He sounds like he’s talking to one of his employees. Firing them for making one too many mistakes around the office. Not…

Not kicking his son out of the house.

“Wait, can’t we--can’t we talk about this or something?” By this point, my heart is at my chest. My stomach is in knots. I feel nauseous. My entire body just hurts and I can’t stop my hands from shaking. I suddenly want to take everything back. Go back to pretending. I have never seen my father look at me this way. With so much hatred and disappointment. This man looking at me isn’t my father. I’m not sure who he is. I watch him stand, eyes never leaving mine.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says finally, voice eerily calm.

“Yes there is,” I try. I would do anything--anything to change his mind. If I can’t get him to do so, an hour from now I will be homeless. My eyes go to my mother. “Mom,” I whisper. She doesn’t look at me. She can’t look at me. I watch her turn her face away and lower it as she wraps her arms around herself, shoulders sagging. “Mommy,” I hear myself say again, voice breaking this time. If anyone can save me at this moment it’s her. She’s supposed to stand up for me. But she doesn‘t. She sits behind my father and does what he wants her to do. Like she always does.

“You’ve already wasted three minutes standing there.”

My eyes shoot back to meet my father’s cold gaze.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” I can’t stop my voice from quivering. I try to stop the sob that reaches my throat by raising a hand and covering my mouth, but it still manages to slip through my fingers.

“Because you’re not my son.” The words shoot right through my heart. I never really knew what a broken heart felt like until now. I’m almost sure I can feel my heart crumbling in my chest. It’s difficult to process those words. I always wondered what it would be like if I came out to my dad. I wondered what he would say. I pictured the way he would look at me. That was nothing compared to this.

Because this is real.

This is happening.

My dad is actually telling me that he doesn’t consider me his son because I just opened my heart up to him. Because I confirmed what this family has been pushing away for years. Because I was honest for once in my god damn life.

I’m crying now. The tears are spilling down my cheeks. “Please, dad. Please. Don’t make me--”

z88;

“Shut up!” He nearly screams, raising his voice for the first time. Showing some kind of emotion tonight for the first fucking time.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” I barely recognize my own voice. There’s so much desperation laced in it. It’s shaking. It’s scaring me.

“Well you should have thought about that before you decided to become a queer,” he spits viciously.

“I didn’t choose to be gay! Why would I choose to be taunted at school? Why would I choose to be bullied? To be kicked out of my own house?” This is the first time in my life that I’ve talked back to my father this way. I’ve always been so afraid to stand up for myself, but I can’t help it. There are so many emotions boiling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t stop. So, my father decides to do it for my when he steps forward and punches me in the face. For a moment, I see white before I stumble back against the coffee table. I’m almost sure I hear my mother cry out followed by my father’s voice telling her to shut the hell up.

I cover the tender spot right below my right eye where my father just slammed his fist. I bite my lip, face twisting a little in pain. When I open my eyes, he speaks.

“Now you have half an hour. I’m setting a timer. Judy!” I watch as my mom stumbles to her feet and follows my father out of the room without a glance in my direction.

Thirty minutes never seemed like such a short amount of time until now. I never realized how essential time can be. And how hard it is to pack everything you’re going to need in only half an hour. I hardly remember packing my things. I look at my closet and try not to begin sobbing because it’ll only take away from the time that I have. I scramble around my room desperately, throwing my favorite pieces of clothing into my suitcase. Boots, shoes, bowties, accessories, my phone, laptop, charger, my worn out copy of The Sound of Music. There’s so much and I feel dizzy. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I have trouble trying to figure out if this is actually happening. I am no longer welcome in my own home because I’m gay. Because I’m in love with Blaine and not Brittany. Because I would rather hold hands with a boy than make out with a girl.

I hear my father call from across the hall, telling me that I have five minutes. It almost sounds like he’s mocking me. I can barely see through the fog of tears as I zip up my suitcase and drag it out of my room and down the stairs.

“And don’t even think about taking the Navigator,” I hear him call from his room where he’s probably sitting back in bed watching the game on his HD flat screen T.V. “Because it isn’t yours.”

I hold back the sob that tries to escape as I wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. I wrap a scarf around my neck and suddenly I’m outside. I’m walking down the winding path in my front yard. I look at my black SUV. No. My father’s SUV. I’m sobbing now, tears streaming down my face.

I’m homeless.

o~o~o~o

I have trouble piecing together how I end up in Blaine’s house. Half way down my block, I pulled out my phone and dialed the most recent number on phone. It so happened to be Blaine. It’s all a big blur, but I remember him telling me to stay put and that he would pick me up immediately. My mind was so cluttered at the time, that it all feels like a dream. The entire ride back to his house was spent in complete silence save for my soft sniffling every now and again as I cried quietly in the passenger’s seat. I remember Blaine reaching out when he pulled up to a stop light. I remember his hand covering mine. And I remember his hand didn’t leave until we pulled up to his house and got out of the car.

Now, I’m sitting in Blaine’s living room on the couch. His parents are out of town on another business trip and won’t be back until the end of the week which I’m kind of grateful for. They barely know me and I wouldn’t want them to see me like this. A broken boy.

I pull my legs up onto the couch, shifting so that my head is resting on the arm rest. I can hear Blaine fiddling about in the kitchen. I think he mentioned something about making some hot cocoa. I lay completely still for a little while just listening to the little sounds coming from the kitchen behind me. My nose is still so incredibly stuffed up from crying for almost two hours straight. I think my body is out of tears at this point. I reach up to rub at my swollen eyes. Any other day I would complain about Blaine seeing me in this state, but right now, that’s the least of my worries.

I lose track of time. Eventually, Blaine walks into the room holding two mugs of hot chocolate. He sits down beside me as I sit up and take my mug from his hand with a soft, “Thank you.”

“I put extra mini marshmallows in yours,” he offers with that adorable boyish charm that usually makes me smile. Tonight, it doesn’t though. And I feel horrible for not reacting to his words, just taking a sip from the mug.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, just relaxing in each other’s presence. I’m the one who breaks the silence. “Thanks for coming out to get me.”

“Of course, Kurt,” Blaine says. His voice goes a little high and that makes me smile. I’ve noticed it’s something that he does when he’s stating the obvious and it’s so incredibly endearing. “You know I would do anything for you.”

I’m not sure if my heart should sink or swell at those words. My eyes flicker up from the mug to meet Blaine’s warm, earnest ones. He offers me a smile.

“Yeah,” I finally whisper.

That night, we don’t talk about my father. We don’t talk about me getting kicked out. Instead, we talk about the things we love. Like Glee club and singing. And Disney movies and our childhood. We lay in Blaine’s bed for hours, listening to his Broadway playlist and singing along. Singing duets and laughing at each other. For a little while, I forget about what has happened tonight. I forget that I no longer have a home.

And when we finally fall asleep, my head is on Blaine’s chest and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders. His cheek is pressed against the top of my head and I decide that I want to stay like this forever. I decide that there is nothing wrong with me being gay no matter what my father does or says. I know that these feelings that I have for Blaine are real and there is nothing--absolutely nothing that can take that away from me.