Slap. Crack. Stumbling blindly, face numb with the pain.      

“Daniel, get out of here!”

Slap. On his knees. Crack. A foot punches into his gut.

“Leave him alone, please, leave Blaine alone!”

“Better run, homo…”

Blood in his mouth. Daniel’s sobs in his ears.

            “Blaine, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Mrs. Anderson said, setting down her fork and frowning at her son. Blaine had been staring at his glass of water for a few minutes, eyes glazed over as if he were daydreaming. He shook his head, looking guiltily into his mother’s eyes.

            “Sorry, mom, I was distracted. What was that?”

            “Your father and I understand that being in your little singing club is important to you,” she said delicately. “But we still want you to take up a sport. You’re looking a little out of shape, darling,” she added, eyeing him with thinly veiled disapproval. “It’ll be good for you.”

            “So we’re going to pay for you to take lessons after school,” his father cut in. “Your choice, any sport you want.” He reached across the table to hand Blaine a catalogue. The front cover depicted teenage boys and girls tossing basketballs into hoops or kicking soccer balls into goals. Bright, obnoxious font across the top read AFTER SCHOOL SPORTS FOR ALL SKILL LEVELS!!!

            “Thanks,” Blaine said, setting the catalogue in his lap. “But I don’t really know if sports are my thing…”

            “Blaine. Sports are every young man’s ‘thing.’” Mr. Anderson said. “Why, even Cooper played baseball from the time he was six until he graduated high school. He could have played throughout college, too, if he hadn’t run off to that acting school.” The bitterness was evident in his tone, but he simply took a sip of wine and looked back at his plate.

            After dinner, Blaine lay on his stomach on his bed, the catalogue open in front of him. He skimmed through the pages, pursing his lips. He was way too short to play basketball, floor hockey just sounded like an easy way to get hit in the nuts with a puck, and the volleyball team was girls only. Blaine was seriously considering taking golf lessons when his eyes fell on a picture of a punching bag in the bottom left corner. Next to it, the class description read: Boxing Lessons: learn simple yet effective defensive and recreational boxing techniques from a six-time state boxing champion.

            Blaine was especially intrigued by the “defensive techniques.” He imagined what it would have been like, the night of the incident, if he’d known how to use his fists effectively. If he’d been able to hit back. He grabbed the Sharpie from his bedside table and circled the boxing lesson description.

            “Boxing?” His mother read over the description again. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

            “The teacher has really flexible hours. I went to his website,” Blaine said eagerly. “Apparently boxing is known to relieve stress.”

            Mr. Anderson looked over his wife’s shoulder. “What about football, Blaine? They’ve got a beginner’s team right here…”

            “I want to box,” Blaine said firmly. “You said I could pick, and this is what I want.” He sighed a little in frustration. “Don’t you think it’d be a good idea for me to learn how to defend myself?”

            His parents said nothing for a moment, but they shared a look that Blaine didn’t like very much. Finally, his mother folded the catalogue in half and gave Blaine a tight smile. “We’ll sign you up straight away, dear. Thank you for doing this, Blaine.”

            Blaine smiled back, but he was pretty sure his smile was just as unconvincing as his mother’s.

            When Blaine got to Dr. Halling’s office that weekend, he found Kurt hunched over a textbook, writing on a piece of paper and cursing under his breath.

            “Hi, Kurt,” Blaine said, dropping into the seat beside him. Kurt looked up, his face relaxing a bit when he saw Blaine.

            “Oh, hi, Blaine,” he said. “How are you?”

            “Fine. What are you doing?” Blaine looked over Kurt’s shoulder and saw lines of complex numbers and formulas, half of them scribbled out.

            “Calculus. Or trying to, at any rate.” Kurt huffed out a sigh and tossed his pencil down dramatically. “Oh, fuck this. I’m never going to understand it.”

            Blaine looked at the problem Kurt was attempting to solve. “I think I see the problem,” he said. He pointed to a group of numbers and variables on the paper. “You factored this wrong. That’ll screw up the whole formula. Here, let me show you.” Blaine picked up Kurt’s pencil and scrawled the correction underneath Kurt’s answer. “See? It works out now.”

            Kurt was looking at him, awestruck. “How did you do that so fast?”

            Blaine shrugged. “I’m good with numbers. I’m in a senior-level math class right now, actually.”

            Kurt raised his eyebrows. “Wow. I’m envious. I’ve got a test coming up next week that I’m going to fail miserably. I just can’t get anything math-related to stick!”

            Blaine glanced at him sideways. “Well, I could help you out. Like I said, I’m good with numbers. I used to be a math tutor at my old school.”

            “That would be a huge help,” Kurt admitted. “But like I said, the test is next week. You don’t really have time to teach me everything now, and by the time I see you next, I’ll have already taken the test.”

            “Well, I could always… I don’t know, meet with you sometime next week before the test?” Blaine stared pointedly at the math problems on the page instead of Kurt’s face as he spoke.

            “I don’t know…” Kurt said. “I mean, isn’t that kind of—”

            ”—crossing a boundary?” Blaine interrupted. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t mean to overstep or seem like I’m being creepy—”

            “Blaine.” Kurt was laughing. Blaine closed his mouth, looking at Kurt with embarrassment. “I was just going to say that’s kind of a long drive for you to come to my house. We live almost two hours apart, remember?”

            “Oh. Right.” Blaine’s face was bright red. “I can borrow my mom’s car or something. She doesn’t work on Wednesdays. I could come over after Warbler’s practice?”

            Kurt smiled. “I’d really appreciate that. This stupid class is the only thing stopping me from having straight-As.” Kurt pulled out his phone. “Here, give me your cell phone number. I can text you my address and everything.”

            Blaine recited his number, a giddy rush flooding his stomach. He guided Kurt through two more math problems before it was time for his appointment with Dr. Halling, and Kurt gave him a quick hug before he left.

            “Bye, Blaine. Thanks for all your help!”

            Blaine was stunned, a little dazed as he hugged Kurt back. “Any time,” he croaked. Kurt pulled away, gave him a smile that filled Blaine’s stomach with a deep, pooling warmth, and disappeared out the door with Quinn on his arm.

            Blaine was shaking with nerves, but it wasn’t because he was minutes away from going onstage for another Warblers performance. It was because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was going to Kurt’s house the next day. His first real planned encounter with Kurt outside a waiting room. Blaine puffed out his cheeks, exhaling loudly. Wes came up behind him and tapped his shoulder.

            “Jesus Christ!” Blaine jumped, turning around to glower at Wes. “You scared the hell out of me.”

            “You’re scaring the hell out of half the group, standing off in a corner like this. Come on, it’s almost time for places,” Wes said. Blaine sighed, following Wes back to where the rest of the Warblers were standing, looking anxious.

            “There you are!” Thad exclaimed, indignant.

            “We were worried about you,” Trent said, frowning. Blaine’s lips twitched, and he tried to hide his smile. The Warblers took everything so seriously. Sometimes it drove him bonkers, but most of the time it was incredibly endearing.

            “Sorry,” he said. “Pre-show jitters, you know.” He was lying, but he didn’t feel like explaining the situation with Kurt to the entire group.

            “Places!” hissed a stagehand, and the Warblers scurried onto the dark stage, stumbling into formation. The curtain rose, and a light fell on the stage.

            “There was a time when we were down and out. There was a time when we were starting over. You let the bough break, you let the heartache in, who’s sorry now?”

            As Blaine side-stepped and twirled across the stage, his eyes scanned the crowd. He saw a lot of Dalton boys he recognized from his classes, bobbing their heads in appreciation. He saw Wes’s parents, looking practically weepy with pride. He saw…was that Cooper?

            Blaine’s stomach flopped over in an unpleasant way, and he tripped over his feet a little. Luckily, he wasn’t singing, or the words would have come out garbled and incoherent. Why the hell was his older brother in the crowd, sitting in the front row and smiling up at him, wearing his usual leather jacket, designer sunglasses perched on his head? Blaine tore his eyes away, staring at the far wall as he continued to sing.

            “What, what kind of fool? Tears it apart, leaving me pain and sorrow? Losing you now, how will I win, where will I be tomorrow?”

            When the song ended, Blaine felt totally numb. His hands were shaking, but he couldn’t even feel his fingers. The Warblers took their bows and headed down into the house to greet friends and family, but Blaine was rooted to the stage, terrified. Wes, who was halfway to the stairs, turned around and saw him standing there.

            “Blaine? C’mon, man, why are you just standing around?” He grabbed Blaine’s shoulder and steered him towards the stairs. Blaine didn’t protest.

When they got to the bottom, a familiar, booming voice shouted, “Blainey! Little brother! Over here!”

Blaine looked up, and saw Cooper waving at him. Wes looked at Blaine in surprise.

“That’s your brother?” he asked. Blaine nodded dumbly. Wes squinted at Cooper. “He looks like that guy from the Free Credit Rating Today commercials. You know, the singing one?”

“That’s because he is,” Blaine said, sighing heavily. Before Wes could respond, Blaine walked away from him to greet Cooper. “Hi, Coop.”

“Hey, Squirt!” Cooper crowed, ruffling Blaine’s hair. “Holy shit, little bro, that was one hell of a performance!”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Wait, really?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cooper said. “You killed it out there, why didn’t you tell me you were the lead singer?”

“I didn’t even know you were going to be here,” Blaine said, an edge in his voice. “You haven’t called, or emailed, or even texted me in months. I thought you were in California filming some TV pilot?”

“Yeah, that kind of fell through,” Cooper said sheepishly. “But anyway, I came down to visit the old home front, you know? Stopped by the house and Mom and Dad said you were still at school, doing some choir show. I was expecting robes and church music, but man, you blew it out of the water, kid!”

Blaine didn’t know how to respond. In sixteen years, Cooper had never complimented him this many times in one day. He was a little overwhelmed. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked suspiciously.

“What, is it a crime now to be proud of your little brother?” Cooper asked, faking nonchalance. Blaine felt a funny warmth in his chest.

“You’re proud of me?” he asked. Cooper slung an arm around his shoulder.

“Sure I am, Squirt. Mom and Dad would be, too, if they were here. Why aren’t they, anyway?”

Blaine frowned. “They don’t approve of me being in show choir. They never come to my shows. This is the first time anyone’s come to see me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cooper looked affronted. “What the hell? I mean, sure, I know they weren’t too keen on me going to acting school and turning down that baseball scholarship, but they were over the moon when my commercial aired! And remember when I was that dead body in CSI? I was in the background and Mom went on like I was the main character!” Cooper shook his head. “I can’t believe they won’t even come to one show.”

Blaine didn’t know how to respond. Cooper just didn’t get it. He’d always been the favorite child. He was athletic, tall, popular, and straight. His ego was the size of North America, which led to him unintentionally making Blaine feel like shit on a daily basis. Nothing Blaine did was ever good enough for anyone in his family, even Cooper. Until now, apparently.

“Is this a gay thing?” Cooper said suddenly. Blaine stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Are Mom and Dad not coming to your shows because you’re gay?” Cooper demanded.

“Something like that,” Blaine said. Cooper looked livid. Blaine was surprised; Cooper hadn’t been cruel or uncomfortable when Blaine came out, but he’d never seemed to care when their parents were less than kind about Blaine’s sexuality. And he hadn’t even talked to Blaine about the incident at the dance.

“That’s bullshit. You know, I’ve met some really fantastic people in the industry over the past couple years, and some of them were gay.” Cooper stared off into the distance, and Blaine couldn’t help but feel like he was being a little overdramatic. Typical Cooper. “They were kind and generous individuals. You know I met Neil Patrick Harris once?”

“You did?”

“Well, we were in the same room, I mean I didn’t actually talk to him but I saw him and he looked totally friendly!” Cooper turned back to Blaine, eyes bright. “Mom and Dad just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Blaine said. “Listen, Cooper, I’m really glad you came to the show, and I’m glad that you liked it, but… why the sudden change of heart? You’re usually so hard on me.”

Cooper shrugged. “You really impressed me tonight, Blaine. And I guess I have—well, I feel bad about not keeping in touch with you, you know? Especially after what happened at your old school… I should have been there for you, been a better brother. But I was too busy with my career and I blew it off and I shouldn’t have. I came back to Ohio to visit you, Squirt.”

Blaine felt a little misty-eyed. “Crazy as it sounds, I kinda missed you, Coop.”

Cooper pulled him into a hug. “I missed you too, kid.”

Cooper took him out for dinner and then dropped him back off at Dalton a half hour before curfew, promising to hang out with him even more when he came home for the weekend. Blaine had honestly (and, unexpectedly) enjoyed his time with his brother. They talked about Cooper’s career plans—“I’m auditioning for this TV-musical thing. I think it’s going to be really big!” “That sounds kind of stupid, Coop.” “What do you know, this’ll be the next big thing.”—and Blaine’s upcoming performances. Blaine didn’t bring up his therapist, or Kurt, or the dance. And it was kind of nice, sitting with his brother and pretending that none of the bad things had happened.

Blaine realized, as he walked up the stairs to his dorm, that he still hadn’t actually asked his mother if he could borrow the car. His palms grew sweaty at the very thought. How was he going to explain this situation to her? As he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, he decided that he wouldn’t. He was going to lie.

“Mom? Hi, it’s Blaine.”

“Oh, hello, dear. Did Cooper stop by?”

“Yeah, yeah. He came to my performance. He said I did really well.” Blaine couldn’t hide the resentment in his voice. His mother either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“That’s nice. Did you need something?”

Blaine tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. “Yeah, I was wondering if I could borrow the car tomorrow afternoon?”

“Why do you need the car?”

Blaine ran a hand through his hair, thinking quickly. “I’m tutoring some friends in math, and we’re going to a coffee shop in Lima to study,” he said. It wasn’t entirely false; he was going to Lima, and he was tutoring a friend in math.

Mrs. Anderson sighed. “Lima? Blaine, that’s nearly a two-hour drive one way. Why on earth are you going so far?”

“The coffee shop is a popular Warbler hangout,” Blaine said, lying through his teeth.

“What coffee shop?” It was clear his mother didn’t believe him.

“The Lima Bean.” Even though it was a bald-faced lie, Blaine knew his mother would believe it. She wouldn’t think that Blaine would know the name of a coffee shop in Lima unless his story was true.

Mrs. Anderson was silent on the other end, and Blaine crossed his fingers, closing his eyes tight and waiting.

“Oh, all right.”

Blaine punched the air, grinning widely. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

“Hmm.” She was already thinking about something else, Blaine could tell. “Have a nice evening, Blaine.”

The line went dead. Blaine stared at his phone’s screen, sighing as call ended flashed up at him. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and entered his room, wondering if he’d get any sleep at all that night. The anticipation kept him up and staring at his ceiling, heart racing as the image of Kurt’s flushing cheeks and full lips burned themselves against the inside of his eyelids every time he closed them.

Blaine tried not to be distracted during the Warblers meeting the next day. He stared intently at Thad as he ranted on and on about the proper dress code—apparently Jeff had worn the wrong color socks to their last performance, and you might think the audience won’t notice, Jeff, but when you sidestep your pants ride up and your socks show—but he couldn’t focus. Wes definitely seemed to notice, his eyes flickering to Blaine often during the meeting. Blaine flushed, refusing to meet his friend’s gaze. When the meeting was adjourned, Blaine was the first to gather up his things and head for the door, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder as he went. Wes caught up with him on his way down the stairs.

“Hey, Blaine,” Wes said, falling into step beside him. “Why the rush?”

“What are you talking about?” Blaine said, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

“You practically ran out of the room just now, and you were acting like a restless four-year-old the entire meeting. What’s up?”

Blaine glanced down at his watch, and then back at Wes, a goofy smile spreading across his face despite himself. “I’m, uh, I’m meeting up with Kurt.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “Oh really now?”

“Yeah. I’m tutoring him in math.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Wes asked, eyeing Blaine sideways. Blaine elbowed him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” he said. Wes just laughed.

Blaine hated being alone in the car. It gave his mind time to wander, and the voice in the back of his mind started on him immediately. Why even bother trying to be with Kurt, as if he’d want someone like Blaine? They would only be torn apart, someone would find out about them and destroy them. Blaine’s head ached, and his hands were sweaty against the steering wheel. He felt his chest start to tighten, his lungs aching as his breath quickened, and—no. No, this cannot happen now. Kurt cannot see him like this. Blaine turned on the radio, distracting himself with music. His Adele CD was mid-song.

“I dare you to let me be your one and only…”

“God, I hope so,” Blaine muttered to himself, turning onto the street that, according to the directions Kurt and Google Maps had given him, should lead to Kurt’s house.