Blaine knew his dad wouldn't be completely supportive of his sexual orientation because he was not supportive of him in any way. He never watched Blaine’s football games because when he attempted to play. He never watched his violin showpieces when he had a go at playing an instrument and then he definitely did not go watch Blaine when he was cast as Tony in West Side Story because that had infuriated him.

Blaine was pretty sure that over the years, his sexual orientation became a bit more obvious and that maybe when he came out to his parents they would just shrug their shoulders and say “We know” but that was not the case.
It started off with a silence so thick and engulfing that you wouldn't even be able to cut through it with a chainsaw and then his brother Cooper spoke up, with a pat on the back and a smile before saying “Thanks for telling us, I’m so proud of you” Everything was going to be okay, he thought until his dad raised his head slowly and took a deep breath.

“Dinner is not the time to joke around Blaine” He said very slowly, keeping his eyes fixated on Blaine’s and his hand curling around his cutlery firmly.

Blaine opened his mouth to say something but was then cut off by a slam on the table and a loud “Say you’re not joking Blaine and you are going to wish you said nothing at all”

Suddenly he was hot, his breath became short and his eyes begun to sting with salt-water tears.
“Say something, mom” He whispered across the table with large and unknowing eyes, and that’s where the violence begun.

He vaguely remembers being pulled out of his chair and thrown to the floor, a punch across the face and kicks across his ribs. He’s pretty sure he passed out through that but was abused a lot more after because when he woke up in his bed, his whole face was sore along with the rest of his body. Did his father kick him across the other side of his face? Because there was a huge gash, still sticky with blood on the left side of his face. Did he stomp on his knee? Because he was pretty sure he could not move it.
Where was everybody? Where was his mom to comfort him? Where was she to wipe the blood, disinfect the gashes, massage the sores and kiss the bruises? He was only fourteen, she was still meant to do that right?

The house was quiet, it was 3:28am he saw as he painfully craned his neck to look at his bright red digital clock. Before laying his head back down, in the dark he could see a figure, slumped on his reading chair.

Was it his dad? Was he here to hit him again? Blaine’s body suddenly turned cold and the hairs on his arms shot right up, he began to shiver despite being surrounded by many thick blankets. He sorely stretched out his arm to switch on the lamp and when he did he was relieved to see Cooper sleeping. Of course it was Cooper, he was the only one who probably cared about Blaine now but despite having who Blaine thought was his protector in life sitting in his room he was still terrified. Terrified his father would stomp through that door with a fist ready to bruise Blaine’s smooth adolescent skin.

His body was aching and exhausted. Most injured people just want to rest but not Blaine, he couldn’t even if he tried. So he stayed up, he watched his room grow light and the sun slowly reflect off his mirrors and photo frames. This fear would go away right? His father would be kicked out of the house and he would never have to see him again because him mom wouldn’t want to keep a man like him around right? He’s unsafe, insane and he’s never given a damn about his sons especially Blaine not one day in his entire life around them. But that wasn’t the case apparently. Did Henry ever hit him again? No but was Blaine afraid every day and night that he would? Yes. His family never brought up his sexual orientation ever again apart from Cooper who actually supported him but did he ever act like he did in front of his parents? Of course not because the subject wouldn’t have been brought up in the first place. So it was all pretty calm in the Anderson household for the next four years that Blaine lived there but that didn’t mean that Blaine felt safe.

He’s now twenty two and he can’t remember the last time he slept three hours in one night if he even slept every night. Sure, his father won’t get him now, he lives in New York and his parents would never fly out here, they hate the buzz of the city and they couldn’t give two hoots about Blaine living there so why couldn’t he sleep? The nightmares and just the insomnia he’s unfortunately developed. It’s useful when it comes to school, he’s always up all night perfecting essays and music pieces so he’s happily at the top of his class but is he completely happy? No, he’s not because apart from the couple of friends he has, he’s got no one. Sure his friends are great and he meets them every Saturday but they are all way too busy to see him daily and that’s what Blaine wants. Somebody to be there for him always, to take his mind off things because his mind is always reeling and not about the things they should be reeling about.

All of this over something that happened eight years ago, all because of his fucking father. So what’s he got to do now apart from school? Take late shifts at work in the restaurant when they’re needed, do his homework and occasionally walk around New York, like he was currently and admire the city he’s always dreamed of living in. Dreaming of the happiness he thought he would have living in such an accepting, open and exciting city. Dreaming that one day he would meet someone, someone who would deal with his baggage and maybe be able to make him forget about it all.

He shook his head of the snow that had landed in the mess of curls that was his hair. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the almost black canvas that had taken over the city that told him that he should be asleep. What time was it? He thought, two maybe 3 in the morning? He looked around for a clock as he had forgotten his trusty yellow watch at home. He looked through the large glass window of a bar, which seemed to be open. Not unusual for the city that never sleeps. He shuffled closer and squinted, his eyesight was getting bad but he could see the little hand was hovering somewhere between the two and the three.

Suddenly the window slid open, he jumped back and almost slipped on the blanket of snow piling around his tattered converse. A face appeared now, a beautiful face. His skin was glowing white, just like the snow that fell around him, the curve of his nose was smooth unlike the bone structure of the rest of his face which was striking just like his piercing green eyes. Or were they blue? Blaine couldn't decide and he loved it. The boy wore a full smile, probably due to his amusement at Blaine’s shock.

“It’s only 3am and the bar is pretty quiet, if that’s what you’re looking for” He offered in a soft high voice.

The corner of Blaine’s lips curved up just slightly. It was 3am, a time he usually spent alone and this stunning man was inviting him in this bar? There was no promised conversation but there would be some sort of company and that was enough for Blaine.

He ducked his head as he walked towards the door and pushed it open. The place reeked of alcohol and sweat, clearly a bar that old men with nowhere to go and an addiction to beer end up. So what was this gorgeous man doing standing behind the sticky, creaky bar? Surely he could have gone somewhere else and become a model, at least Blaine believed because with a figure like his that he now saw was muscular yet soft and slender, there was no way he was anything but ordinary. The man wore an impish smile, that hinted to Blaine that he must have been around his age. His eyes were evident of that anyways, they were youthful, the colour glimmered with every moment and distracted him from the slightly and well covered up dark shadows under his eyes. Maybe he’s had a bad night or a rough day, Blaine thought but he clearly didn’t show that through his voice when he chirpily and smoothly asked.

“What can I get ya?”