“I think I really screwed up,” Blaine said.

Kurt sipped at his iced tea, watching Blaine dejectedly play with his basket of French fries. They were in a diner in downtown Lima. Blaine had clearly picked the location of their meeting-Kurt wasn’t particularly fond of places with a thin layer of grease covering every surface.

“How so?” he asked Blaine.

Blaine sighed, leaning back against the bright red upholstery of the booth. “So, last night, Maia and I went out to dinner.”

Kurt had known from the very start that this was going to be girlfriend trouble(“can we meet? I need someone to talk to. Girlfriend issues” said the text Kurt had received that morning), but it was still very strange to him. He hardly ever gave advice on girls. But Blaine had asked him, and they were going to hang out today anyway, and maybe Kurt just wanted an excuse to see Blaine, even if they had to talk about his girlfriend.

Blaine continued. “We ate dinner, and everything was fine, and then after our plates are cleared, she starts talking to me about our relationship and whatever. And it was fine, and sweet and everything…and then she said she loves me.”

Kurt swallowed his drink abruptly, slightly startled. “And what did you say?”

Blaine’s cheeks colored, and he looked down at his fries. “Um. Well, the first thing I said was ‘what?’”

Kurt laughed, and Blaine shot him a look. “I’m sorry!” Kurt said. “No, really. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

Blaine sighed. “It’s okay. It’d be funny if it hadn’t happened to me.”

“So what’d she do?”

“Ran into the bathroom.”

“She ran?”

Blaine rolled his eyes, coming forward to rest his chin on his hands. “Well, no. She excused herself and then left for like ten minutes. Then she came out and we went into the car and talked.”

“And?”

Blaine exhaled heavily. “I told her that I really cared about her and I don’t want our relationship to change but I can’t say ‘I love you’ yet because I’m not sure if I do.”

Kurt felt a slight, painful twist somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. Doesn’t want their relationship to change. Figures. He spoke anyway, trying to ignore his own discomfort. “How did she take it?”

Blaine shrugged. “Okay, I guess. She didn’t cry.”

Kurt nodded. “Well, not in front of you, anyway.”

“Kurt!” Blaine exclaimed.

Kurt put his hands up in an ‘I-surrender’ pose. “I’m just saying.”

Blaine slumped back against the bench. “Yeah, you’re probably right. God, I just-I didn’t know what to do! That’s never happened to me before. I don’t think I love her. I mean, I love her, like as a person and a friend and everything, but I don’t think I love her.”

Kurt nodded. “You probably shouldn’t tell her if you’re not sure.”

“I know,” Blaine rubbed his face with his hand. “That’s why I didn’t.”

They sat there for a moment, quietly.

“I’m sorry that happened, Blaine.” Kurt was sincere. Even though he didn’t particularly like that his attractive new friend had a girlfriend, he still didn’t like seeing Blaine sad. Especially when the cause was said girlfriend.

“Thanks. It’s okay. I mean…I think it’ll be okay. I just hope she doesn’t…put too much significance into it, or anything.”

Kurt nodded, his lips pursed. Girlfriends had a tendency to do that. Then again, so did he.

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Kurt told Blaine. “And if it doesn’t…well, then it wasn’t meant to be. Right?”

Blaine groaned, his face falling into his hands. “I don’t even want to think about that,” he mumbled.

Kurt sighed. “It’ll be okay, Blaine.”

Blaine lifted his head up and nodded. “Okay,” he said, as though he was trying to convince himself. “Yeah.” 

He reached for his fries again, flashing Kurt a renewed smile. Kurt smiled back, but it faded as soon as Blaine looked down.

On Sunday, Blaine headed out to Westerville around four. Blaine’s parents insisted that he come over for dinner every Sunday. His parents were big fans of schedule and tradition. Blaine agreed to this arrangement because he wanted to make his parents happy, and one dinner a week was considerably better than dinner every night.

His mother answered the door when he arrived. She smiled widely and hugged him. Blaine could smell her strong perfume- too strong for his liking, too floral, but it was none-the-less his mother’s signature scent. Mrs. Anderson was short, shorter even than Blaine. She had a petite frame and thin fingers. Her hair was naturally a sort of mousy brown, but she had it regularly dyed light blonde. By the end of the day, when Blaine came to see her, lines in the powder on her face often began to form on her forehead where her skin wrinkled when she raised her eyebrows. She was wearing a modest, dark green dress with a white apron over it, and black pumps. Blaine came into the house and took off his coat.

“Your father’s in the living room,” his mother told him. “Dinner’s nearly ready. I’ll get you two in a second.”

Blaine followed her instructions and walked into the living room. His eyes, as always, were immediately drawn to the photographs on the mantel of the fireplace. Front and center was a family portrait of his mom, dad, and a three-year-old Cooper. There were plenty of pictures of Blaine above the fireplace, but Cooper’s was in the middle.

“Hi, Dad.” Blaine said, moving his eyes from the photographs to his father, who was sitting in a large leather chair, reading a novel. His father looked up, squinting before taking off his reading glasses. “Hello, Blaine.” He replied. He folded his book over his knee, keeping the page. “How are you?”

Blaine sat down on the couch. “Okay. Kind of tired.”

“Working hard in school?” Mr. Anderson asked.

Blaine’s smile was slightly strained, and he hoped his father couldn’t tell. “Always, Dad.”

His father grinned back at him. Blaine’s father had dark, curly hair with graying streaks. He also possessed the bright blue eyes that Cooper had inherited, while Blaine had gotten his mother’s amber-colored irises. Blaine’s dad was tall, with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He was handsome, even in old age. “Glad to hear it, son.”

Blaine’s mother called them into the dining room then, announcing that dinner was ready.

They sat down at the impeccably made table- Blaine’s father at the head, Blaine and his mother on either side. They held hands and Blaine’s father said a quick grace(“May the Lord bless us with our continued prosperity, give good fortune to those in need of it, and hold peace for those souls not with us tonight”). Blaine’s mother had made a pot roast for the evening. Blaine had never really liked pot roast. He’d never told his mother. It was one of her favorite things to cook.

They passed around food, serving themselves and laying napkins on their laps.

“So,” Mrs. Anderson said. “How are your classes going, Blaine?”

Usually, Blaine relied on this question(always one of the first things asked of him) to carry conversation throughout most of the night. Most nights he could easily go on about his various subjects and professors and assignments for most of dinner, his parents chiming in with stories of their own or supposedly helpful advice. Tonight, however, he didn’t really feel like talking about school. After Kurt pointed it out to him, he’d realized just how much he based his life on it. “They’re fine,” he answered simply. “We’re getting ready for finals, and whatnot.”

He put a forkful of rice in his mouth then. Blaine’s mother spoke again. “Good, good…what about that professor you were talking about last week, your writing professor? Was his class any better this week?”

Blaine shrugged while chewing, then swallowed. “Yeah, it was all right.”

Blaine’s mom glanced over to her husband. They shared a look. “You’ve generally got a lot more to say,” Blaine’s dad said.

“Hmm,” Blaine acknowledged. “I don’t know. I just feel like I talk about school enough, I guess.”

His parents definitely shared a look this time. The makeup lines on his mother’s face became more prominent.

“Alright,” Mrs. Anderson said with a cheery tone that didn’t sound completely genuine. “Well…why don’t you tell us about Maia, then? How is she?”

Blaine’s dad brightened, turning his attention fully onto his son and smiling. “Yes, how is Maia?”

Blaine sighed, wondering if perhaps he should have just prattled about his classes.