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Alex sat in his room, glad that he was alone in his room with the door locked. He stared angrily at the wall in front of him and hoped that it would smolder to ashes under his glare. Furiously trying to blink the tears pooling in his eyes away, he reached out under the pillow and pulled out a worn picture in a frame. A happy family looked back at him – two men, one blond and one with dark curls, had their arms tight around each other, smiling into a kiss as the baby in the blond man's arms reached out to the camera with his pudgy arms outstretched. Daddy Blaine, Papa Matthew and baby Alex, twelve years ago.

Now that picture would be incomplete. It would just be a picture of a curly haired man trying to make ends meet and hold himself together, devoting himself to a thirteen-year-old boy and his happiness. Except they both weren't happy. Not without Papa Matthew.

That's what you think, a vicious voice rose inside Alex's mind. That's what you thought, till Kurt Hummel came into the picture. Daddy Blaine started smiling again, blushing, going on dates, and sharing stolen kisses. Kurt Hummel, fashion designer extraordinaire, with his face pasted on the front page of the top fashion magazines as the best upcoming designer to watch out for. Kurt Hummel, who made Blaine smile like he did when he was with Matthew.

Alex had been surprised at how much he'd hated that look on his father's face. That wasn't a look for anybody else, it was special, and it had to be only for Papa Matthew. It wasn't something you gave away to Kurt, to someone who he barely knew, someone who thought he had a claim to Blaine. No way, Alex thought fiercely. No way. He wouldn't let Kurt shove the memories of his father away; he wouldn't let him take that place without a fight. He would never acknowledge this relationship, not positively.

He stood up, putting on his boxing gloves and taking his position in the corner of his room near the sandbag, flexing his legs as he got ready for the first punch. Matthew had been taller than Blaine, but he was a peaceful man, always minding his own business, concentrating on fishing and football. Surprisingly, it was the short, compact but strong Blaine who had taught his son to box, to throw neat, well-aimed punches. Fifteen minutes later, there was a fire burning in his belly, his breathing coming in pants and sweat pouring down his back. He slowed down, the anger pushed back into a simmer and guilt pushing itself up into his stomach, making him feel hollow and empty.

He was denying his father his happiness. It had been three days since Blaine had broken up with Kurt after a huge argument with his son, and the sight wasn't pretty. Alex had yelled at his father about being a traitor to Papa, had thrown out angry, half-belligerent words to his father, and had only stopped when he saw that Blaine was pale with shock, with guilt and with pain. He'd been too scared to go after his father after that fight, and Blaine had spent the whole day locked up in his room.

He had lurked outside his father's room for a long time, but there was no noise, nothing. Just a dark silence, and Alex felt his skin crawl with worry and pure despair. That evening, his father had come out, made dinner quietly like nothing had happened, had washed the dishes and helped Alex with his homework. When Alex had tried to apologize, he just shook his head. "It won't be a problem anymore, Alex," he'd said softly. "Kurt's not going to be around anymore. Don't worry."

And that was that. Blaine went through the routines of his day and Alex did the same, aware that something was broken in the house. His father still loved him, he knew that. No matter what had happened, the only steadfast thing in his life had been Blaine's love. His father trusted him as well, not changing any of the roles or liberties that Alex had enjoyed before. But something had broken, all the same.

And there were here now, at the crossroads where nobody seemed to know which way to go. Pulling off his boxing gloves, Alex sank onto the bed, his anger still brimming in his stomach. He just didn't know who it was directed toward anymore. Was it Kurt, for disturbing the endless routine of the two people in the family? Was it Blaine, for forgetting about Matthew and dating another man? Was it himself, for stealing that joy from his father's eyes? Alex didn't know anymore.

A soft knock startled him from his reverie and he looked toward the door. Blaine was standing there with a glass of juice, his gaze taking in his sweaty son in his work clothes. He came into the room, holding out the drink to his son as he sank down on the mattress next to him. Alex couldn't help but notice it – his father moved like he was heavier now, weighed down by something he couldn't see.

Blaine smiled at his son, handing him the juice. "Hey. Heard you working out and thought you might need some fluids after that." He smiled gently, running his fingers through his son's damp curls. "You feeling okay? It's... it's been a while since you've boxed." It had, actually. He'd stopped for the past year, when the anger in his heart had slowed down to dying embers. Alex shrugged, taking the juice and drinking it. Blaine frowned a little, but said nothing further about it. "I was thinking we could have a movie night today? We could watch the Harry Potter movies – any one you wish."

Alex nodded again, looking up at his dad's earnest face and smiling a little. "I'd like that," he said softly. "Maybe we could start off with the first one again?" Blaine nodded. "Okay. I'll get some popcorn ready and some drinks. It's just you and me, bud." He stood up and left, and Alex could hear him pottering around in the kitchen.

He couldn't move. Not after those words. It was just him and Blaine. He had destroyed the only chance of a bigger family, of more love and laughter. He'd stolen what had been restored to his father. Slowly, he padded down the stairs, reaching the entrance of the kitchen.

He hadn't realized that Blaine hadn't heard him coming. He had a picture of Matthew in his hands, and Alex felt his heart breaking at the sobs his father was emitting, sitting at the kitchen table, trying so hard to keep quiet because his son might hear him. "He's right, Matty," Blaine whispered. "He's right. I had no right to date again, god, I had no right to love again. I stole that from you. I'm so sorry, Matty. I swear, I'll... It will be just Alex and me. He's... he's everything to me. A part of you I'll hold on to till I die." He was holding the picture so tight that the frame was digging into his palms, and Alex turned away, rushing back to his room and shutting the door, heart beating in his chest.

When he went back down after 15 minutes, Blaine was smiling easily, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and the DVD in the other. He pulled Alex to him, putting his arm around him and dimming the lights as they watched the movie together. And Alex sent a quick message to Kurt Hummel. Meet me. Tomorrow at 12. At the Lima Bean.