Kurt's POV:

After slipping into a sharply fitted black suit from my most recent menswear collection, and advising the girls on what hair and makeup would go with their dressed, we all piled into my car. The two girls sat in the back as I drove us to our old high school. They both giggled with a suddenly fake excitement. Aren’t I supposed to be the moody one? Why are they both so nervous all of a sudden? I’d tried asking them, but each time they’d just claim that they were worried they don’t look right, or they’re scared they’ll fall over while dancing. At least they both have someone to catch them if they do.

In truth, neither of them have been the same since the mysterious visitor came to the door. I’d tried asking them about that too, but they were being just as helpful as with my other questions. But from what I can gather by eaves-dropping, it’s someone we all know but aren’t supposed to trust. Also apparently the Mystery Visitor is a huge gossip. Why should I care who’s got a new boyfriend? It’s Lima; this news is never as exciting as it originally sounds, (this is something you only really learn from living in New York).

The silence in this car is beyond awkward, so I make the move to play some music. I switch on the radio and don’t even bother to listen to the random voices of the far too enthusiastic hosts: just anything to fill the silence in the 30 minute drive. As soon as the radio was blasting some crappy Top 40 hit from the past week, Rachel and Mercedes were talking. I turn the “music” down to show them that I’m ready to be part of the conversation. But as the volume is turned down, so is the volume of their conversation. I can’t for the life of me hear what they’re saying over the quiet screeching of the song, only the odd word here and there.

“...Finn said...” was all I heard of Rachel.

“...so did Sam...” Mercedes mumbled.

“...but...”

This was ridiculous. If I turn of the music I will never know what they’re talking about and we’ll just be back to awkward silences, but if I keep it on I won’t know anything anyway. I settle for just focussing more intently on their conversation; and possibly quizzing Mercedes about it later, she always reveals things when pushed.

Then a single word captures my attention, a name. “Blaine.” What the hell did he have to do with anything? I am so thankful that I had stopped the car at the red light, otherwise I would’ve crashed and none of us would have survived.

Blaine? Why were they talking about him? What was going on? And, for that matter, why aren’t I allowed to know? This evening is going to suck way more than I expected.

Blaine's POV:

As soon as Drew and I reach the bottom of the stairs, my mum ambushes us – camera at the ready. Anyone would think it actually was our wedding day.

“Oh, you both look so handsome!” my mum squealed in-between photos.

Despite my protesting, over 50 different photos taken; Drew insisting on changing poses each time the camera clicked – each time the pose being more ridiculous than the last. My mum only agreed to stop when Sophie began laughing at my extremely awkward expression and posture.

I walk over to Sophie who is standing near the door to the living room. She’s still laughing quietly, her dark curls bounce as her head shakes.

“Cut it out!” I whisper as I push her shoulder gently. But Sophie just laughs harder – my actions having the exact opposite effect.

“I can’t – I can’t help it!” she squeals in-between giggles.

And then a tall, ominous figure appears from the kitchen. The figure’s mere appearance practically removes all the joy and laughter from the hall and replacing it with something much heavier and thicker. Sophie’s laughter stops. I stiffen my posture and my hands find my sides again. Drew’s hand brushes affectionately across my back – alerting me to both the change in mood, and his presence and ability to help me.

I’ve always hated my father. Well, no, that isn’t strictly true. There was a time that we got along; that we were like a normal father and son. That all ended when I came out. His attitude toward me changed entirely – it was like none of the fun we had mattered, like...I wasn’t even his son. What he’s done to me since then has made me hate him. It made all the fun seem like a lie...or at least a tainted truth.

I had been forced to tell Drew about my dysfunctional relationship with my “father” when we were down here last Christmas: the Christmas that no one talks about..Ever.

“Hello Blaine,” his eyes show nothing of the love he should have for his own son as they shift over to the man stood protectively behind me, “Drew.” There is no hint of remorse or embarrassment for his actions last Christmas in his voice.

I can feel Drew’s eyes burning into the back of my head as he takes my hand in his, “Blaine, we should go. We – er – don’t want to be late.”

I nod, not breaking eye contact with my “father”. A smirk appears on his face as he takes another sip of his beer.

Drew turns me around, forcing me to tear my eyes away from the triumphant looking man in front of me, to see the stunned looks on my family’s faces.

“Have fun boys!” my mum says as we pass her, I throw her a pathetic attempt of a smile.

“Yes. Don’t do anything unnatural.” It takes all my strength not to turn around and punch my so-called-father for this comment.

Drew ushers me out and all but slams the door behind us. As soon as the door is shut I practically run to my car and climb in to the driver’s seat. I can’t help but let out an angry noise; half way between a grunt and a scream. I press my burning forehead against the cold steering wheel and allow my anger to seep into the air around me. Caught up in all the anger I only just notice the cold tears running down my cheeks.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice appears soft and loving by my side, “Don’t listen to him. You know he just does this to wind you up. You just – he’s not worth crying over.”

“But he’s my dad. He should be worth crying over!” I reply as I lean my head back on the headrest of my seat.

Drew sighs, “Want me to drive?”

“No. I don’t wanna go.” I pout.

Drew laughs at my childishness, tear-streaked face, “Come on, let’s go.”

Reluctantly I switch places with Drew, allowing him to take over driving. I sigh.

Well, here goes nothing.

Kurt's POV:

The whole drive has passed in a mixture of awkward whispers and tongue-tied silences. I literally had to force my eyes to look at the road after hearing that name. I mean obviously the topic was bound to come up tonight. Even if he doesn’t turn up, not everyone knows that we split up so someone would definitely bring it up. But I didn’t expect it to be said in a whisper of gossip in the back of my car.

As I pull into the McKinley car park and park my car into one of the “reserved” spaces, I breathe deep. Okay Kurt, just have fun tonight. The more fun you have the easier it will be; even if it’s faked.

I turn to face the girls and slap on a winning smile, “Right, shall we go?” Both girls nod enthusiastically.

As I step out of the car I see Mercedes get swept up in Sam’s arms and Rachel’s face get attacked by Finn’s (those 2 really need to tone down the PDA). I, however, stand here scanning the slow stream of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

There was Puck – who looked exactly the same – standing with a girl I couldn’t recognise; but no one could deny that she’s beautiful. Then Quinn and Joe close behind them, holding hands. Ah good, I’m glad those two worked out. They were followed by Mike and Tina, Santana and Brittany – the whole lot of them.

“Kurt, you coming?” Mercedes’ voice snaps me back to them.

“Yeah. Of course. Just let me grab my phone.” I smile. Smile, Kurt. Just smile.

Blaine's POV:

“Do you want to listen to your Katy Perry album?” Drew asks with a ridiculously caring tone of voice.

Even in my current state of worry I can’t help but chuckle slightly. I sigh heavily and realisation hits me as we pull into the familiar car park, reminding me of the impending ceremony.

“I’m serious Blaine, if you don’t want to go we can go for a picnic dinner or watch an old movie at yours.” Drew places one hand on my knee after he parks the car, “We don’t have to go.”

“No,” I should go; I mean maybe he’s ill. Oh don’t be silly, he’s never ill. It’ll be fun! Go, you don’t want him to think you’re a coward, “I should go. If it sucks we can just leave.”

“Or get drunk. I hear there’s a free bar!” Drew throws me his most wonderful smile that makes his eyes light up with mischief.

“Come one,” I squeeze Drew’s hand and climb out of the car.

The cool air of the mid-May evening washes over me, and I feel the heat disappear from my cheeks. I can do this...I think. It can’t be that bad.

Just as my mind begins to work overtime with “what if’s”, I feel Drew’s fingers lock around mine. “Deep breath sweetie,” Drew whispers as he plants a small kiss on my forehead.

I follow his advice and we walk to join the queue.