It was Blaine’s last night in Ohio; his last night in the room he’d slept in nearly every night for eighteen years. Although he’d thought about nothing but New York for the past five months, Blaine suddenly felt a flash of sadness over leaving the only home he’d ever known.

He scanned his bedroom, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important; imprinting his memory with all the little details he was leaving behind.

A beat-up 2008-09 Buckeyes football poster, its edges curled and worn, hanging on the wall next to his closet. The ruffled blue curtains fringing his windows, a relic from his childhood that he’d never bothered to replace.

His little sister, Bridget, appearing in his doorway, wearing pink pajamas and a gloomy expression. There’s something I don’t want to leave, Blaine thought as he smiled at her sadly.

“Are you done packing yet?” she asked, her voice soft and tentative.

Blaine tossed a few final items into his suitcase. “Just finished,” he replied, zipping the bag shut. “What’s up?”

“Daddy asked for you to come downstairs.” She idly scratched at the decorative trim framing Blaine’s doorway, purposefully not meeting her brother’s eyes. “I think he wants to talk to you about leaving.”

Even though she was only twelve, Bridget was keenly aware of the enmity between Blaine and their father. It had always been there; but it had grown deeper, more hostile since winter, when Blaine had announced he was moving to New York with Kurt to study music theater.

The fact that Blaine had been accepted into one of the country’s most prestigious drama programs had done nothing to alter his family’s views about his life path. Blaine had thought that, maybe, it would show he serious about music and performing; that he was talented and driven and someone to be proud of.

Instead, it had made things worse. He and his father had barely spoken a word to each other since spring. Even their conversations about sports – the one subject that had always been safe, a go-to when everything else was too complicated – were stilted and awkward.

The fact was, Blaine’s family loved the idea of the son they’d always dreamed about – future successful, straight lawyer and heir to his firm – more than the son they’d actually gotten: out and proud, performing in musicals and living with another man.

So Blaine had given up trying, given up caring about their lack of understanding and support. Their willful ignorance may have helped them deal with the situation better, but it only served to drive Blaine further away.

But Blaine still felt the anger, the disappointment thrumming silently between them. The tension that had built up in their home that summer was as oppressive as the muggy heat that blanketed Ohio all season long. As August drew closer, Blaine had braced himself for a confrontation that had never come. Until now, apparently, he thought, frowning at Bridget’s words.

Blaine walked over to his sister, who was still avoiding his eyes. “Hey,” he said, gently putting his hands on Bridget’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. Nothing I don’t already know, I’m sure.” He used his thumb and forefinger to tilt her chin upward and meet his gaze. “Why don’t you wait up here? Make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything important.”

Bridget finally smiled, just a little. “Okay.” She was relieved to stay in the safety of her big brother’s bedroom. Blaine brushed a kiss to her hairline before walking out. It’s show time.

Blaine bounded down the stairs, lightness in his step. He felt free. He didn’t care what his father had to say; he knew he was on his way to a better, happier life in the morning.

He found his parents in the living room, quietly sitting together on the couch. His father held a brandy snifter, his bleary eyes fixed on the glowing amber liquid in his glass. His mother sat dutifully beside her husband, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Blaine’s stomach suddenly balled up with nerves. He could feel the friction between them, like an electric charge buzzing through the silent air.

Have they been arguing? No one ever argued in their home – save his father, who barked orders to his paralegals over the phone in his home office. The Andersons dealt with significant issues by…well, they didn’t. Blaine’s parents were excellent at turning a blind eye to anything that would force them to admit their family was less than perfect.

No wonder Bridget was so worried.

The creak of the floorboards under his feet broke through the eerie stillness, alerting his parents to his presence. His mother stood up as he entered the room.

“Blaine…” she started. She looked at him with pleading eyes, as if she desperately wished he could see the words that were running through her mind: I love you so much. This is hard for us. I’m trying to understand. I’m trying to make him understand. We just want the best for you.

But she never could get past her fears enough to express her feelings aloud. Her gaze faltered and fell away. “I should leave you two alone to talk,” she murmured, giving Blaine a small, thin smile before exiting.

Blaine’s eyes trailed after her, lingering in the doorway even after her figure had vanished. Slowly, he turned to his father, who was still staring into his glass of brandy.

Blaine cut right to the chase. “Let’s hear it.”

His father finally looked up from his drink, eyeing the chair directly across from him. He gestured at it absently with his snifter. “Sit down, son. Let’s do this properly.”

Blaine didn’t move. He simply squared his shoulders in preparation for battle. “There’s nothing proper about this situation. You disapprove of my choices.”

“You’re right.” Blaine jumped as his father suddenly bolted to his feet. He glowered down at his son, his eyes bloodshot from stress and alcohol. “I disapprove. We didn’t raise you like this.”

“You didn’t raise me like what?” Blaine challenged. His voice was calm and cool, even as anger flashed through his body like a lightning bolt.

His father’s eyes shifted away uncomfortably, but quickly refocused on Blaine. “You know what I’m talking about,” he mumbled.

Ken Anderson had always envisioned Blaine following a path similar to his own: undergraduate studies at Georgetown, then law school, and then a career working with his father, one of the most successful attorneys in Lima. They’d go to alumni football games together at Notre Dame, the two generations proudly sitting together in the stands with Ken’s old classmates as they cheered on their alma mater.

But instead, his son was gay. And he was moving to New York City with his boyfriend to sing and be in plays.

Blaine sighed bitterly. “Dad, I am who I am. I can’t change.” He added more force to his words. “And I won’t change.”

His father shifted tactics, deftly moving on to his next case point as if he was the prosecutor and Blaine was on trial.

“Blaine, this is nonsense. You mean to tell me you’re actually going through with this? Moving to New York City for theater? Living with your—” his cheeks flushed as he whispered the word “—boyfriend?”

There it was again: the guilt, the dismissive wave to Blaine’s dreams and love. Blaine wasn’t going to listen to it anymore.

“Dad, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to talk to me about this. Years. But you – both of you – never bothered to even try to understand me. Did you really think you could just ignore it all? Like I’d stop being gay if you didn’t pay attention to it? That’d I’d just straighten up and go along with your grand plans for my life?”

Blaine laughed scornfully. The short, derisive sound burned his father’s already heated blood. “You two only care about how our family looks from the outside. You don’t give a damn about me.”

“Bullshit!” his father bellowed, his face red with rage. Blaine recoiled at the loud, angry roar.

“I don’t care about my family!” He echoed Blaine’s words with indignation, pointing a shaky finger in his son’s direction. “I work my ass off for all of you! And you. I put you in private school. I gave you everything!” He turned his back to Blaine in disgust.

“Ken…” Blaine’s mother had re-entered the room at the sound of their yelling. She hung back by the doorway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, worry written across her face. But both father and son were too engrossed in their argument to notice her meek presence.

“And why did you do that, exactly?” Blaine shot back, pulling himself back up to his full height. “I’ll tell you why. Because it was simpler for you to send me away to some fancy school than to take action against people who were abusing me because of my sexuality. Wasn’t it?”

This argument – these angry, hateful words – had been simmering between the two men, just below the surface, for years. They’d bid their time, and now they were erupting – bright, hot and painful.

His father was silent for several long moments. Blaine could feel the fury radiating off his back. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and trembling. “Well, I guess all that money I spent on your ‘fancy school’ was a waste, then, seeing how you’re going to college for theater.” He turned around then, and Blaine could see the contempt in his eyes. “You think you can make it big? Be on Broadway or something?” He laughed at his son. “Be practical, Blaine. Think about your future.”

Blaine couldn’t tell if he wanted to cry or punch his father in the face. “I am thinking about my future,” he insisted, cringing when his voice came out sounding like a childish whine. “I’m going to an excellent university, moving somewhere I want to be with people I love. Why is that so hard for you to accept? Why don’t you want me to go after my dreams?”

His father laughed again, a taunting sound that made Blaine want to shrink back once more. “Do you think I dreamed of becoming a lawyer? Of course not! But it’s given us a good life, hasn’t it? It’s allowed me to provide for my family.” He paused for a moment, his lips curling in an ugly sneer. “Although I guess that isn’t much of a concern for you, given your…life choice.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up, the shock of his father’s words hitting him like a slap. It took every ounce of his effort to keep the fists that had balled up tightly by his sides from connecting with his father’s nose. But he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, each syllable dripping with hatred.

“Go to hell, you asshole.”

The mocking smirk fell off his father’s face. The seconds dragged by like hours as the two men stared at each other in outrage.

“Fine,” his father finally snarled, his voice a low, biting rasp. “If that’s how you want it, then fine. You’re an adult now. So go on. Go after your dreams. But don’t think you can come crawling back here when they don’t work out. When you finally come to your senses and realize you were wrong.”

Blaine snickered at his father’s words, even as furious tears stung behind his eyes. “No, you’re wrong. If you can’t support me, if you can’t deal with who I am, then I know for sure that leaving is the right decision.” He let out a shaky breath that was too close to a sob. “I don’t want anything from you ever again.”

Blaine turned on his heels to leave, brushing past his mother without acknowledging her. He stopped just before he reached the doorway, turning back to look his parents once more. His eyes darted back and forth between them: one weeping softly, the other breathing heavily with barely controlled rage.

“Thanks for giving me a memorable last night at home,” he said angrily, shooting his father one last withering look before leaving the room.

***

From the upstairs hall, Blaine could see Bridget sitting on his bed, sifting through the books and photographs he’d packed in one of his suitcases. He took three deep, steadying breaths, forcing himself to stop shaking with anger before re-entering his bedroom.

“Whatcha got there?” Blaine hoped she couldn’t detect the quaver in his voice.

Bridget looked up at Blaine with big, hazel eyes a shade greener than his own. “I’m looking at pictures of us from Disney World. Remember when I made you get your face painted?”

Blaine grinned at his little sister, reveling in her innocent, loving expression. Despite the six-year gap between them, the two siblings were extremely close. Their deep, affectionate relationship stood in stark contrast with the emotional detachment that ran rampant throughout their home.

Blaine was the one who took Bridget to the mall to buy makeup with her allowance; who helped her decide what to wear on her first day of school; who answered her increasingly frequent questions about boys and dating.

Bridget was seven and Blaine was thirteen when their parents took them on a family vacation to Disney World. For a full week, Bridget had dragged Blaine onto one kiddie ride after another. One day, she’d coerced Blaine into getting his face painted like one of her favorite characters – although she never did have to try very hard to persuade her smitten brother to do anything.

“Yeah. Like the genie in Aladdin.”

Bridget giggled as Blaine sat down next to her and took the photo from her hands. A silly, laughing, thirteen-year-old version of himself, his face covered with blue paint and sparkles, stared back at him. Bridget stood beside him primly, wearing a blue, satin Cinderella dress and a shining tiara on top of her long, dark hair.

That was six months before I came out, Blaine thought dismally. Before everything changed.

He cleared his throat of the tears that once again threatened. “You mind if I bring this with me to New York? So I can show off my beautiful sister to everybody?”

Bridget’s eyes lowered to her lap. “I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured sadly. They could both just barely make out the muffled sound of their parents’ heated voices downstairs. “They don’t want to you leave, either.”

Blaine put his arm around Bridget’s shoulders, squeezing them affectionately. “But it’s different. They don’t want me to leave because they don’t believe in me. You don’t want me to leave because you love me and you’ll miss me.”

“They love you, too. They’re just confused.”

Blaine was quiet for a moment, reflecting on the vicious words he’d exchanged with his father. “Well, maybe they’ll understand someday. But no matter what happens, you need to know that I will miss you so much. I don’t want to leave you, but I need to…I need to get out of here.”

He didn’t mean to stammer, to sound so desperate. Blaine quickly shifted his tone, grabbing Bridget’s hands and placing a loud, wet kiss on them. Another giggle bubbled from her lips. “Promise me you’ll come visit us? Kurt and I will take you shopping anywhere you want to go. They have every single store in New York.”

Bridget’s face brightened. She loved Kurt. He was even better than her brother at helping her pick out clothes. “Yeah!”

“Good. Now,” he gently pushed her in the direction of his door. “Go to bed so you can wake up early to say goodbye before I leave.”

Bridget hugged her brother tightly and flashed him a toothy smile before leaving the room. Alone, Blaine once again picked up the picture of the two of them, smiling at it fondly before packing it away in his suitcase. Then he closed his bedroom door, shutting everything else out before crawling into bed.

His mind and body were weary, but sleep didn’t come easily. Bits and pieces of the argument – what they’d said to each other, how his father had looked at him – ran through his head in a continuous, exhausting loop.

“I gave you everything.”

“Don’t think you can come crawling back here.”

A hot tear finally slipped out from the corner of Blaine’s eye. He wiped at it quickly, harshly, but another one immediately took its place. He had never been angrier: at his father for rejecting him; at his mother for not saying anything when he needed her; at himself, for giving a damn about any of it.

Blaine let out an infuriated growl, roughly punching his pillow and tossing his body down again. He was never coming back. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with it again: the guilt, the emotional distance, the condescending tones.

It was time to look forward. He was getting on an airplane tomorrow morning, leaving all of this behind, forging his own path ahead. Surrounding himself with people who loved and accepted him. Kurt.

Blaine hastily reached for his phone on his nightstand. He typed out several messages, deleting each one with a frustrated sigh before finally settling on, “Can’t wait to be in New York with you tomorrow.”

He could tell him what happened later, he thought as he hit send. When they were together in a new room, in a new city, in a new life. The thought comforted him, even though a grim, empty feeling still tugged uncomfortably at his heart.

His phone lit up with Kurt’s simple reply: “ < 3 "

Blaine clutched his phone tightly to his chest as he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

***

Blaine was wide awake when his alarm went off at five the next morning. The dull pain from the previous night mixed with fresh excitement about the day ahead as he showered and packed up a few remaining items. He gave his bedroom one last long look before dragging his bags downstairs to the front door.

He was surprised to find his mother in the kitchen, busily cooking eggs and potatoes. Blaine hesitantly walked over and laid a tender kiss on her cheek. Even though he was still angry about the night before, Blaine refused to let his last moments with his mother be defined by the heated argument with his father.

“I thought you could use a good meal before your trip,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the stovetop as Blaine’s hand rested on her shoulder blade. Her warm, affectionate tone helped lift some of the gloom from his soul.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She cautiously lifted her eyes to her son’s. Blaine could see the tears there, threatening to spill over. “Blaine, sweetheart, we love you,” she finally managed. “We only want what’s best for you.”

Blaine lifted his hand to her face, gently using his thumb to wipe away the single fat drop that escaped. “What’s best is to believe in me. Let me be myself.”

She looked away, nodding imperceptibly. Then she turned back to him, her characteristic smile pasted on her face even as she blinked back tears.

Kurt always teased Blaine that he’d inherited his relentless optimism, his positive outlook from his mother.

For the first time in ages, Blaine, Bridget and their mother shared laughs and happy conversation over breakfast. Blaine gushed about his and Kurt’s plans for their first week in New York and described all the sights he wanted to show Bridget when she visited.

Blaine kept catching his mother glance anxiously at the staircase every few minutes, as if she expected her husband to appear there. But he never did. The heavy weight started to seep back into Blaine’s heart as he realized the hostile words he’d exchanged with his father would be the last they’d speak to each other before he left.

At six o’clock sharp, Kurt and his father pulled into the driveway. Kurt immediately noticed the troubled lines etched into Blaine’s forehead, the way his shoulders were slumped as he came out of his house.

“Thanks for leaving me some space in the trunk,” Blaine joked as he loaded his luggage into Burt’s car.

Kurt ignored the quip, staring deeply into Blaine’s heavily shadowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, to say anything that would assuage Kurt’s concern. But he hesitated. He couldn’t lie. All of the emotions from the night before rushed back to him as he took in Kurt’s worried look.

I will not cry, damn it. Not when we’re finally leaving this place behind.

“Just…” he paused, exhaling a sharp breath through his nose. “There was an argument. Last night. I…can we talk about it later?”

Kurt eyed his pleading expression, nodding in silent approval as Bridget came bounding down the driveway toward them. Kurt enveloped her in a tight farewell hug, making her echo Blaine’s promise to visit them in New York.

Bridget was crying as she turned to her brother. She threw her arms around him and buried her face into his chest.

“Hey – I’ll be back in a few months.” Maybe. “They’ll fly by. I’ll text you every day.”

Bridget sniffled. “Okay. I love you.”

Blaine’s heart constricted, and the tears threatened once again. “I love you, too.”

Blaine put his arm around Bridget’s shoulder as they walked up to the front door, where their mother stood waiting. Blaine pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Bye, Mom.”

When they separated, his mother put her hand on Blaine’s cheek and smiled at him. He thought he could see a glimmer of something there. Realization? Acceptance?

“He’ll come around,” she said quietly. “In the meantime, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart.”

Bridget gave her brother one last tight squeeze around the waist before she and their mother disappeared into the house. The front door closed behind them with a soft click.

Blaine stared at the door for a moment too long, feeling like a part of him had just been severed. He wondered if every person experienced such a clear, abrupt demarcation between the end of childhood and the beginning of their adult lives.

From inside his dad’s car, Kurt felt his heart sink as he watched Blaine turn to walk toward them. “His father wasn’t there,” he remarked absently to Burt.

Blaine got into the back seat and slammed the door shut. He dropped his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. As Burt backed the car out of the driveway, Kurt turned around in his seat to face his boyfriend. He reached for Blaine’s hand, squeezing it tightly, willing Blaine to look at him.

Blaine finally opened his eyes, taking in the sight of Kurt’s hand covering his. Slowly, his eyes traveled up to Kurt’s. The two boys stared at each other for a long time, silent words passing between them. They didn’t need to say anything aloud. Kurt had already deduced what had happened from the few details Blaine had shared.

“So, what do you guys say about a Mickey D’s run, huh?” Burt started, breaking through the silence in an attempt to brighten the mood in the car. “You know, special occasion and everything.”

Burt warily glanced over at Kurt, who threw him a look of disgust so severe that Blaine laughed out loud in spite of his dejected mood. “Dad, don’t even think you can let your diet slide now just because I’m leaving.”

“Hey, I just thought—”

“Luckily, I prepared for this occasion.” Kurt said over his father’s sheepish remark, reaching down by his feet and pulling up a large Ziploc bag. “Look, trail mix! I made it last night. It has cranberries, flax seeds, almonds…” Burt groaned as Kurt rattled off the healthy, unappetizing ingredients.

As father and son bickered over Burt’s eating habits, Blaine did his best to force his bad thoughts away. He was leaving them behind now, in favor of something better, something greater.

New York, New York, here we come.

***

“Blaine? Helllooooo?” Kurt sang impatiently.

Blaine snapped back to attention with a start. They weren’t in Ohio anymore; they were in New York, in the lobby of their dormitory, standing in line to check in to their room. “Sorry. I guess I spaced out for a minute there. I’m still groggy from our flight.”

“Yeah, you slept like a baby the whole time. A loud, snoring baby.”

Blaine scoffed. “I do not snore,” he said indignantly.

“You sure do,” Kurt replied, a smug smile playing on his face. There would be plenty of time to talk later. Right now, he just wanted to see his boyfriend smile. “And now that we’ll be living together, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to prove it.”

Blaine grinned, happiness suddenly bursting through his glum mood. Impulsively, he put his arms around Kurt’s shoulders and leaned his forehead against his temple, whispering the words he always managed to feel no matter what else happened.

“I love you.”