What am I even doing here? I know I’m going to regret it. But his mother wouldn’t have it, not while he was home in Rochester and his father was only some twenty minutes away at the city’s most wealthy and�prosperous�hospital. As much as he despised his father he couldn’t help but feel bad for his mother who had spent day-in and day-out of his entire lifetime being there for his father and supporting him, even when it meant standing by or simply walking away when Blaine knew exactly what was coming. But he had spent years going back and forth on whether or not to blame his mother for never intervening or saying anything, and now that he was a little older he knew there wasn’t much she could have done…or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. Blaine could tell that she was trying though, really attempting to gain something from him, maybe forgiveness…but he could never be too sure.

“Elliott? …Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Blaine mentally shook his head as he glanced over at his mother, his feet blindly shuffling along the pale flooring as they made their way down a solid white�hallway, from the tiles beneath his Ralph Lauren flats to the to the boring wooden doors and plain blank walls. He had never been a fan of hospitals, in fact he was nearly terrified of them as they made him feel endlessly unnerved and insecure ever since having to sit in one for what seemed like days until finally finding out that the one person he had cared for more than anything else in his seventeen years of existence had passed away in a coma. “Yes. Yes, I am fine. So what’s wrong with him?”

“By ‘him’ I’m assuming you mean your father. The doctors aren’t exactly sure, they think it has something to do with his heart. But he is getting better, and should be coming home sometime this week.”

Blaine nodded his head half-heartedly as his mother came to a door, starting to turn the knob but hesitated and turned back towards her son.

“I understand you two don’t get along…but please Elliott, for me, try to be patient with your father.”

Blaine forced a small smile and nodded his head once more at his mother, it was no use�arguing�with her or doing anything but at least seeming like he’d try. And maybe his father would actually make an effort to be pleasant with him, even if after years he managed to always get the same response from the older man. But he didn’t have much time to think about it as his mother reached over to kiss his forehead with an almost genuine smile and opened the door, herding her son inside and following in after him. The musician ran his fingers through his hair before�slipping�both hands into his jean pockets and walked over to stand beside his father’s bed, the man’s head turning and looking up at him with an expression that he couldn’t decipher.

“Claire, can you give us a minute?”

Blaine glanced from his father to his mother, noticing the small smile on her lips as she nodded and left the room, leaving a rather uncomfortable silence, his eyes still poised on the door�with�his shoulders shrugging a little until he finally turned back to his father. He seemed even older than last time he’d seen him, what with the black-gray specked hair and same old bitter expression. Really the only thing physically similar between the two of them was the same lightly tanned skin-tone and hazel eyes. Other then that they didn’t share anything; not the same hobbies, interests, or habits. The unfortunate connection between the two of them was that Blaine had somewhat inherited the same anger and�occasional�alcohol problems that his father had, though the music major was more reserved and capable of�withholding�it all in…well, for the most part at least.

“Son.”

“Father.”

“Why are you in Rochester?”

This is where he knew the conversation was bound to go downhill, because his father had made it blatantly obvious time and time again how very much he regretted his son’s choices and just who he was in general…but he wasn’t afraid of him, he hadn’t been since junior year of high school. “I came to visit the Luttrell’s, it’s James’ birthday,” he said simply, though just saying the name�out loud�pulled at some deep and broken�heartstring�inside of him.�

“He’s dead, kind of hard to�celebrate�a dead kid’s birthday.”

Blaine fidgeted with his fingers in his pockets, his lips pulling into a tight line as he forced his eyes away from the bedridden man… and at that moment the only thing he could think about were Kurt’s words, his soothing tone and reassuring touch. The mere image of the actor caused his rapidly increasing anger to simmer down, as well as the hurt and ultimately damaged feeling inside of him to gradually dissipate. The theater major was right, because at some point the musician knew he’d have to deal with his father, and he didn’t intend on coming back to Rochester to see his parents anytime soon so that time might as well be now. Maybe chancing the subject will keep him from purposely trying to start something…�”How’s the business going?”

“Coward. I know you could care less about my ‘business’, so I have a better, more pertinent question. How’s Samantha?”�

Of course he’d check up on my�ex-girlfriend, it was really the only thing that had stopped his father from bashing everything going on in his life during his sophomore year of college. “We broke up, though I know that’s not what you’re asking,” he said in a far more challenging tone then he had intended, though at the same time he felt surprisingly calm.�

“I’m just making sure that my one and only son isn’t gay. I can take you quitting baseball, and maybe even only caring about something as useless as music, but frolicking around doing Lord knows what - “

“HEY! I get it! You’re as homophobic as your pitching arm is useless. I get it, I do. And just so we’re absolutely clear I actually am interested in both. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m falling for the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and gay or not he’s more of a man than you.” Blaine gave his father one more heated glance before turning away from the bed, ignoring the angry calling of his name and swear words mixed in together as he slammed the door shut behind him. The musician pulled his phone from his pocket as he headed for the exit of the hospital, his feet carrying him directly towards his Jeep as he climbed in and text Kurt, ‘I’m headed back’.