He feels a little out of control, the way he’s just talking and confessing. Showing various sides of himself, his obsession with game shows and The Sims. And it seems like Kurt actually kind of likes him. Not “like” likes him, he knows the odds of that happening are slim and Kurt’s probably not even gay.

He definitely never meant to talk about his dad. It wasn’t a bad fight, certainly not their worst, and Blaine feels like he came out of it the winner simply because he argued back for once. He was an active participant rather than just a sounding board for his father’s anger. Things are going to come to a head with them this summer. Blaine can feel it. He tries not to think about it too much, and instead focuses back on his new friend Kurt.

Blaine likes this a lot, having someone to talk to about things everyday, even if they’re mostly little things. He knows he could text Matt or whatever, but his summer job already started and they’re on completely different schedules. Blaine just didn’t expect to find this camaraderie in an online class, particularly considering he doesn’t usually seek out camaraderie in class face to face.

Falling asleep later that night, he can’t help but wonder if this is THE Kurt (Or was it Craig? or Kirby?), the Face. But he writes that off as fantasy, he’s not even sure if he heard the name right.

~~~~~
A Moment of Kurt

Maybe if he makes a list of the things he knows about Blaine Anderson, he’ll realize that he’s making his feelings up in his head. It’s just such a bad idea, to feel attracted to someone after sending them a couple emails. He has hardly any concrete knowledge of this person.

A list of what Kurt knows about Blaine:
1. He is a dork.
2. He fights with his dad.
3. He likes to run long distances.
4. He is levelheaded.
5. He might be a shut-in.
6. He likes to read.

That’s it. That’s all Kurt knows. That’s not enough to base attraction on. He doesn’t even know if the guy is gay!

On the other hand, that’s not really all Kurt knows. He knows Blaine’s funny and intelligent and likes kids enough to want to be a camp counselor. He fights for the underdog. He’s compassionate and earnest in his opinions, though he can snark with the best of them. The best of them being Kurt, obviously.

~~~~~

“Blaine!” he hears his father call his name from the bottom of the stairs.

That means one of two things, either it’s time for dinner or Blaine’s in trouble. Considering they already ate, Blaine is pretty sure this isn’t good.

He might as well get this over with. It’s been over a week of emailing and chatting online with Kurt and it’s already becoming a ritual to sit back and watch their classmates discuss the latest book. The discussion opens tonight for A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Blaine is looking forward to seeing what they think. And he’s looking forward to talking to Kurt. A lot. He doesn’t want an argument, or “discussion,” with his father getting in the way of his evening.

He walks slowly down the stairs, hoping that if he prepares himself this might not be so bad, whatever it is. He takes deep, easy breaths like Paula always tells him to. As he lands on the last step, he’s sort of relaxed, probably as close to relaxed as he ever is in his parent’s house. He’s going to try to focus on the small victories he tells himself. That’s a mantra that he and Paula used to talk about. He hasn’t thought about it in a long time, but he thinks he’s going to need it right now.

“We’re in the kitchen,” his mother says.

The fact that his mother is involved makes him feel better. He’s about to walk into the kitchen the way he normally would. Shoulders hunched, head bowed, hands stuffed in pockets, body language that just screams “I surrender!” When he realizes, he doesn’t have to surrender. He doesn’t even know what they want yet, why is he surrendering? He takes another deep breath and lifts his chin. He walks into the kitchen with is head held high. (Small victories, that’s one.)

His parents are sitting at the table with mugs before them. His mom offers him some tea, but he declines and takes the chair across from her.

“T-too hot for t-tea,” he says with a smile. A little shiver of happiness goes through him that he said something, rather than just shaking his head. (That’s two.)

“Blaine, I was telling your father about your plans.” At his mother’s words, his father looks at Blaine, almost appraisingly.

Blaine nods, unsure of what he should say. He’s not sure where this is going and he’s trying to remain neutral for now.

“I’m not sure if education is really a fit for you, Blaine. We’re just trying to be honest with you and reasonable about your limitations. We worry about your ability to succeed in a career that requires as much communication as teaching does,” his father says.

His mom reaches to touch his father’s arm and says, with a bite in her voice, “I’d prefer you didn’t say we. I’m pretty sure I’ve made myself clear on this. I think Blaine should do what he wants and I think we should help him any way we can.” (His mother’s already on his side. That’s three.)

His father looks displeased to say the least. But Blaine is still feeling ok. He’s not on the brink of panic with this conversation. He hasn’t had to participate much yet, but so far so good.

“What do you have to say for yourself Blaine?” his dad asks.

“Ssssince when am I on t-trial?” he questions softly. But his gaze stays with his father. He knows that if he speaks quietly, he might stutter less.

“Oh bud, you’re not on trial,” his mom sighs.

“Kinda fffffeels like it. I like mmmmmusic and I like kids and I think I could ddddah-do this,” Blaine insists, voice gaining volume.

“I know you like music, Blaine, but you’ve never even performed in front of people,” his father says. “You’ve never even tested yourself.”

“Yes, I have. I, I, p-play open mmmic nights with Matt. We do it all the t-time. I’ve even dd-dah-done ssolos,” Blaine is so happy he can tell them this. (That’s four.)

“Hmph,” is all his father responds to that.

“And soooo what if I fah-ail?” Blaine feels suddenly... exasperated. (Not angry, not yet. Annoyed, put out, frustrated.) “What dd-does it matter to you if I fffffail? It’s my fffffailure, my dd-dis-disappointment. You don’t have to have anything to do with it.” (That’s five.)

“I think your father worries that it’s going to be too much,” his mother says. She’s not taking her husband’s side, just acting as a mediator. She hopes Blaine can sense that.

Blaine looks away from both of them then. He can feel his expression darken, his nostrils flaring. What do they know? How on earth would they ever know how he feels at this moment? How is it any of their business? Sure now his father worries. What about all those years, Blaine’s whole life, when he was just as bad as the bullies at school? One of the few people who should have really understood how Blaine felt, was one of his worst tormentors.

(The small loser voice in his head tells him that they just care. He shouldn’t be so mad. They just know his limitations. They’re just being reasonable and giving him sound advice. He can’t talk in front of people. He’s never even spoken at open mic night. No one even knows his name there because Matt’s always making names up and Blaine can’t find his voice to correct him. And suddenly the small loser voice in his head and the Blaine he’s meant to be are speaking in unison...)

“I’m tired of not really bbbeing me. I’m tired of being just some kid with a sssstutter. (Overtaking the small loser voice? That’s six.) I’ve worked so hard at trying to be invisible and to appease everyone and I’m just t-t-tired of it. I know what I want. I want to be me. Blaine. Not hide b-b-behind what I can and can’t sssay,” he exclaims (His name with no trace of a stutter? That should count for two. That’s seven & eight.), almost yelling, definitely the closest he’s ever gotten to yelling at his parents. Probably the loudest he’s ever been outside of growls of frustration into his pillow.

“You don’t think I’ve ever been d-dis-disappointed in myself? You think that sstuttering in front of a classroom is the worst thing I can imagine? It’s not. At least maybe sssomeone in that classroom would listen to me. Maybe they’d actually hear mmme.” Blaine can feels the tears in his eyes start prickling. He’s going to lose his momentum. He rises from his seat, hoping he can flee if he needs to, before he gets too emotional.

“I just, I-I don’t understand why you have to get dddown on me before I even sssstart. Before I even t-t-try. Isn’t it better to try?” Blaine says, hating the defeat in his voice, the way it cracked on “try”. He can feel his father looking at him, but he needs to avert his eyes for a few more seconds to gain his composure, to put his mask back on.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in 10 years,” his father says, his voice holding just a small hint of something. Wonder? Blaine isn’t sure. (That’s nine, though. He made his father listen.)

He shrugs, allowing his shoulders to fall just a little lower when they come back down, relaxing a bit.

“I just ww-want to tt-ta-try. And it wwwould be easier with your …” he pauses, but not because he’s blocked, but because he wants to find the perfect word. He’s not avoiding, (that’s 10) he just wants to accurately express himself for once. “...support.”

He’s looking at his father. Not lowering his gaze, wanting him to see that Blaine means this. He’s not going to acquiesce, not this easily. His father looks away first. It’s then that he looks at his mother for the first time during the whole exchange.

She’s crying. She’s crying and smiling, the tips of her fingers touching her lips. Then she comes around the table to hug him.

Blaine feels lighter, even under the weight of her hug. (That’s not a small victory, that’s everything he’s ever wanted.)

He knows this isn’t over, this war with his parents. And it can’t be until he’s completely honest with them, until he finally comes out to them. But for now, he’ll chalk this battle up as a victory.