Blaine would never forget that Christmas, that moment. The moment his dream became a reality. He had a family. A real family. Yes, he and Kurt had long been a pair -- a package deal. But Blaine had always believed that two made a couple and three made a family. From the moment Blaine had realized Kurt was his forever, he knew he wanted a family -- with Kurt. Now, he had one.

Kurt always argued that it had been his impeccable falsetto that had won Tori’s birth mother’s approval. Blaine, however, was sure it was his dapper charm. Both always joked that every fight and resulting storm out should turn out like that.

If that fight created our family, this one is destroying it, Blaine thought as he drove toward what used to be his home to pick up his children. They had not spoken since Blaine had walked out of the coffee shop yesterday. That turned out to be what hurt the most -- not talking to Kurt. Above all, Kurt and Blaine were friends. Best friends. Kurt had always been the person Blaine turned to share his hopes, his sadness, his pain. Now, with Kurt causing the pain, the sadness, Blaine was hopeless.

So, even though the words they shared would probably be strained and only graze the surface of their years of friendship, laughter and love, Blaine could not stop the butterflies that rose in his stomach at the mere thought of hearing Kurt’s voice. Maybe, in it, Blaine would hear the hope he desperately needed.

Blaine drove through the gates, gave Jim a cursory wave, and a few minutes later pulled into his driveway alongside an unfamiliar Lexus. He had not given it a second thought. Kurt’s higher-level employees were constantly visiting on the weekends. Blaine was still a bit embarrassed about that time he had woken up to screams coming from downstairs, and had run down in his underwear carrying a bat, no less, only to find Kurt yelling at Phoenix Song for staining the couch. Blaine had been mortified, but Phoenix Song had thanked him profusely because Kurt had been too busy cackling at and cooing over Blaine’s adorable yet misguided attempt to defend their home to be upset with her.

Blaine chuckled at the memory and pushed open the door. It only took three steps into his home for Blaine to realize it was no longer his. Blaine stood in the foyer, unable to cross the threshold into the living room, for in that room sat Brimley Johnston.

Brimley was sitting on the couch Blaine and Kurt had picked out together because it matched the drapes Kurt had loved. Brimley was sitting where Blaine and Kurt had initiated countless intimate moments that had culminated in their bedroom. Brimley was sitting in the spot Blaine sat in for the past six Christmases as he watched his children open their Christmas presents. Brimley was sitting on his couch, with Tori on his knee and Bertie in the car seat at his feet. Brimley was sitting with Blaine’s children. His children.

Blaine could not move. He could not speak. He could only stare.

It was as if Blaine had awoken from a dream to find that none of it had been real - this was not his family, this was not his home. He had only been granted the privilege of briefly living another man’s life and now it was over. Blaine felt he was intruding on someone else’s life--the life he wanted. The life he thought he had.

“You need to go.” Blaine heard Kurt calling from the direction of the staircase, but he could not bring himself to move. The tremor in his left hand was the only thing distinguishing him from a statue, a mere decoration in this home...perhaps that is what he had always been. “He’ll be here any second.”

“He’s here,” Blaine muttered.

Kurt had apparently reached the bottom of the steps and surmised as much for himself. The sound of Blaine’s voice set off multiple, simultaneous reactions. Kurt stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. Brimley stood abruptly and Tori slid from his knee to unsteady feet. Regaining her balance, Tori turned and, seeing Blaine, ran to him.

“Daddy!” she yelled. Tori’s small frame was the only thing in motion. As though one false move would trigger a mine, all three men stood stock still, triangulated, wondering who would fire first and who would be the first casualty. Tori reached her father and wrapped her small arms around his waist. Blaine could not return her hug.

“Go get your coat,” Blaine barely whispered to his daughter. Tori hesitated for a moment, her chin upturned and her eyes questioning him, as though she could not understand why Daddy did not seem happy to see her. However, she could not see his eyes to read his expression because Blaine’s eyes were locked on Kurt. Tori reluctantly let go of her father and walked toward the stairs, giving him one last confused glance as she passed her Papa and ascended the stairs.

With Tori safely out of earshot, and Bertie seemingly asleep in his car seat, Blaine finally spoke, but it was just above a whisper. “What is he doing here?”

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed. It was not just Blaine’s name, but a plea, a vain request for Blaine to remain calm.

“What is he doing in our house? With our children?” Blaine’s breathing was labored and his words came out hoarse and heavy.

“Look, Blaine, I just came over to--” Brimley tried, taking a few steps toward Blaine.

“Shut up, Liberty Medical.” With eyes still on Kurt, Blaine’s right hand snapped upward, palm facing Brimley, his gesture reiterating his words. “Kurt?” Blaine lifted an eyebrow, pressing for an answer.

“Blaine, he only came over to discuss some final details and pick up some papers.” Kurt’s voice was soft, cautious.

Blaine’s eyes closed as he dropped his head and brought his hand to his mouth. He chose his next words very carefully. “So, you had to work out final details...and exchange papers...and this had to happen in our home? With our kids? Today?”

“Blaine, please, I know what you’re thinking and--”

“No you don’t, Kurt. Because if you knew what I was thinking, then you would have thought! You know what he is. You know what he wants. And you still let him near you? Near our children?”

“Blaine, I--” Brimley began.

“Fuck you!” Blaine blurted, turning and striding into the living room toward Brimley, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “One more word and I will--”

“Blaine, don’t!” Kurt belted, finally dislodging himself from the foot of the stairs and running toward Blaine.

“Daddy?”

Everyone stopped.

Brimley kept a fearful eye on Blaine, but Blaine and Kurt’s heads snapped toward their daughter’s distressed voice. Tori was standing halfway down the stairs, her purple coat in her hands. “Why are you yelling at Uncle Brimley?”

Blaine stumbled backward with the force of it, the word tumbling from his throat coated in disbelief, “Uncle?” Blaine looked at Kurt who was looking at Brimley. Blaine’s jaw began to tremble and he shook his head in short, quick movements as though he was seizing. “Uncle Brimley?” Blaine threw his shaking hands into the air. “No,” Blaine seemed to laugh. “No. No. No.”

Kurt was saying something but Blaine could not hear, did not want to hear.

“Tori let’s go,” Blaine said, bending down and grabbing the handle of Bertie’s car seat.

“But Daddy...” Tori began to protest.

“Tori, we are leaving.” The harshness of his tone pushed Tori’s head down and shuffled her feet forward in defeated obedience. Blaine had her hand in a too-tight grip and they were feet from the door before Kurt’s voice finally broke through.

“Damnit, Blaine! Please!” Kurt was crying. “Not like this! We made promises!”

Blaine stopped but did not turn. “Yeah, we made promises,” he whispered at the door. “And you broke them.” Blaine’s voice succumbed under the tears he had been determined not to shed. “Number four, Kurt. Number four.”

Blaine dropped Tori’s hand only for the second it took to open the door. They stepped across the threshold and Blaine walked purposefully toward their car with Bertie bobbing peacefully in the car seat in his left hand and Tori’s short legs struggling to keep up on his right. Kurt was a few steps behind them, but Blaine ignored his pleas.

“Blaine, please don’t leave,” Kurt said, reaching out for Blaine’s shoulder as Blaine bent to secure Bertie in the backseat. Blaine shrugged him off.

“Hug your Papa goodbye, sweetie, and get in the backseat,” Blaine said to Tori, trying to control his tone.

“Can I sit in the front with you?” Tori asked.

“No.” Again he was too harsh. She looked stung. This was not her fault. None of this was her fault. “I’m sorry sweetie. I just need you to keep an eye on Bertie in the backseat. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Tori whispered. She hugged Kurt.

“Have a good time with Daddy, angel,” Kurt said, trying his best for normal in this moment.

“I will,” Tori said, but she did not seem to believe it as she walked around the car and got into the backseat.

“Blaine,” Kurt attempted again. “We need to talk about this. It can’t end this way.”

“It already has,” Blaine said, opening the driver’s side door. “It’s over, Kurt.” Blaine said it so simply, so impassioned that Blaine had already closed the door, started the car, and began exiting the driveway before the gravity of his words fells around Kurt.

“No,” Kurt uttered, his legs carrying him after the departing car. Kurt was down the driveway and into the street before he realized he was running. “No! Blaine, please!” He was yelling but Blaine could not hear him. Even if he did, Kurt was sure it would change nothing.

Blaine drove in silence, stealing glances at Tori in the rear view mirror every few seconds.

“Daddy?” Tori’s voice was shaking. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sweetie. Daddy’s fine.” Blaine hated lying to her.

“Is Papa okay?”

Blaine did not answer. He could not answer.

“Why are you crying?” Now she was too.

“Daddy is sad.”

“Did Uncle Brimley make Daddy sad? Is that why you were yelling?” Tori’s little voice was shaking and Blaine could only nod.

“Tori, sweetie?” Blaine swallowed.

“Yes, Daddy?” Her shining eyes met his reflection.

“Can you...would you...please not call him that? Not call him ‘uncle?’”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t anymore.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Blaine said, forcing a smile. Tori nodded.

~

Kurt ran back up the driveway and into their home. Brimley had apparently gotten the hint and left. Kurt raced up the stairs, into their bedroom, and retrieved their list of promises from the box on their nightstand.

Number four.

Kurt grabbed his phone and began frantically dialing. Kurt had to talk to Blaine. He had to fix this. Blaine had to answer.

~

Don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back.

“Daddy, your phone is ringing,” Tori called from the backseat.

Blaine did not respond. My heart stops when you look at me.

“Daddy?” Tori tried again. “The phone is ringing.”

“I know, sweetie.” Just one touch, now baby I believe.

“Are you going to answer it?”

Blaine shook his head, dislodging more tears from his empty, hazel eyes.

This is real, let’s run away and don’t ever look back.

~

Kurt sat, doubled over, on the edge of their bed, the silent phone forgotten at his side. In his lap lay the list of promises they had made and Blaine now believed he--Kurt--had broken.

One of Kurt’s tears landed on the parchment, right next to number four.

4. Our children will never doubt that the only people Papa and Daddy love more than each other is them.

Kurt sat there alone, in the dark, losing hope. If Blaine thought him capable of that, then it really was over.