"…You have a what?"

"A boyfriend, dad. I have a boyfriend. I don't know how much clearer I can possibly make that statement."

Blaine's father eyed him suspiciously, his gaze traveling all over his son as if there was something physically on his person that could be removed and make this all go away.

"You're too young to have a boyfriend," his father declared.

"I'm seventeen."

"And seventeen is too young."

"So that's the argument you're going to use? I'm too young to have a boyfriend? Why do I get the feeling you'll use that argument until I'm in a damn nursing home?"

"Watch your mouth, Blaine," his father chided at once. "If it were up to me, you'd never have a boyfriend."

"Of course not," Blaine countered. "You want me to have a girlfriend."

Blaine's father lifted his chin but he didn't say anything in response, just as Blaine had expected he wouldn't.

"And so we get to what this is really about," Blaine stated.

"I never said anything about wanting you to have a girlfriend."

"It was implied and you know it," Blaine shot back.

"I don't care that you're gay!"

"No, you don't care that I'm gay. You only care when I'm being gay."

His father's eyes narrowed in something that resembled anger, or at least that's what Blaine saw.

"You don't care if I say I'm gay," Blaine continued, unsure if he even wanted to have this conversation but it was going to come to a head at some point, so why not now? "You don't care if I say I'm attracted to men, you don't care if I like musicals or singing or anything like that. But you do care when it comes to me actually having a relationship with another male, which, let me remind you, is exactly what gay means."

"Blaine, if you don't stop-"

"No!" Blaine shouted. "I won't stop!"

"I don't give a shit if you're gay!"

"I'm so sure," Blaine said flatly. "Just how I'm so sure of the fact that rebuilding that car in our garage last summer wasn't a ploy to turn me straight."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh no," Blaine replied, a small, humorless laugh escaping from his mouth. "You certainly didn't think that me doing something considered manly with you, bonding over something that straight guys bond over, would possibly turn me into a normal, heterosexual young man. And then all of your problems would disappear."

"I don't have any god damn problems!"

"I hear you talking to mom all the time," Blaine revealed. "How all of the men at your office ask how your gay son is doing. They never just say son, they always say gay son. As if that's my identity, as if that's your identity. Or how you overhear someone talking about how on earth could you have raised a fag when you're a proper businessman with good money and a good wife? You don't hear those things, dad? Because that's what you told mom."

"Fine!" Blaine's father snapped. "I wish you were straight! I pray to God you were straight because then I wouldn't have to hear those people say something about someone in my family! Someone I raised and someone I taught and someone I loved!"

"Loved, huh? Past tense?"

"Don't even stand there and try to analyze my words, boy. You have no idea how humiliating it is to hear those things," his father growled.

Blaine laughed lowly and hung his head. "I don't?" He lifted his eyes to peer up at his father. "You think that I don't hear things like that? You think I haven't heard things like that? You think that I begged to transfer to Dalton because people were just so damn nice to me?"

"Don't-"

"NO! You think it's humiliating for you to hear those sorts of things said behind your back about someone else? Why don't you try letting someone say it to your face? Why don't you try walking down a hallway, why don't you let someone spit on you just before they call you a 'fucking little faggot' TO YOUR FACE? Why don't you try being shoved around by people twice your size, why don't you try going through a day without friends, and why don't you try getting the shit kicked out of you simply because you happen to like other men?"

"I know you had a hard time at your old school!"

"Then why don't you man up and support me like a real father should instead of brushing my sexuality under the rug?" Blaine shouted. "Why don't you try loving me for exactly who I am instead of someone you wish I could be?"

"You could be straight if you tried! You know you could go on a date with a girl or spend time with one at least! The biggest mistake I ever made was putting you in an all fucking boys' school because now you don't even have that chance!"

"For YOUR information, I've been on a date with a girl!" Blaine informed him, speaking of his previous date with one Rachel Berry. "And I've even kissed one! Guess what? STILL GAY! Pretty sure I'm going to STAY gay, no matter what you say!"

Blaine's father seemed to snap at that bit of information and his hand shot out to grip tightly at Blaine's exposed wrist.

"If you don't shut up, boy, I swear-"

"I'M GAY!" Blaine yelled once more. "And I'm in a relationship with another boy who is ALSO gay! I care about Kurt more than anyone else I've ever met, and you know what? To be perfectly honest, I care about him more than I care about you! Or more than you've ever cared about me!"

His father's grip on his wrist tightened to an extremely painful degree and Blaine winced, attempting to pry his father's fingers from his arm.

"Let me go!" Blaine demanded.

"You are such a worthless waste of space!" his father declared. "I knew we never should have had you!"

"Dad, let me-"

But Blaine's father only tightened his hold and he dragged Blaine closer to him. Blaine looked up at him, fear evident in his round, hazel eyes. The circulation to his hand was beginning to slow.

"We had a good life before YOU came along!" his father continued, something like venom laced in his words. "I told your mother to get rid of you, I told her! And look at you now! Ruining everything this family stands for with you queer little ways and you won't even apologize for it!"

"I'll never apologize for being who I am," Blaine retorted, still attempting to break his father's grasp. "Nothing you do or say will ever change that!"

"Oh, you'll change your tune once you're OUT OF THIS HOUSE."

"Let me go!" Blaine shouted when his father's other hand snuck up to hold his other arm, just as forcefully. "You're hurting me! Stop it!"

"You pack a bag and you'd better be out of this house in fifteen fucking minutes or I will end your sorry excuse for a life," his father proclaimed, hot breath ghosting over Blaine's pained face.

"Fine!" Blaine yelled weakly, tears burning his eyes because fuck, this hurt, it hurt. "J-just let me go!"

His father finally relented and he shoved Blaine away so forcefully that Blaine lost his footing, tripping backwards and his back hit the sofa with a harsh, audible noise before he finally hit the ground. He cradled his aching wrist, willing the blood to rush back into his fingers when his father stormed over the few feet of space between them. He pushed Blaine over from his precarious sitting position until he was face first on the expensive threaded rug, his hands caught between his chest and the floor. His father wrenched the hair at the base of his skull in a fist, causing Blaine to cry out.

"And you don't get to take your pretty little car," his father hissed from above him. "So I hope this little faggot boyfriend of yours cares about you enough to pick you up on the side of the road."

He threw Blaine's head into the rug and watched without a word as Blaine scrambled, terrified, to his feet and out of the room. Blaine stumbled up the wide staircase, down a long hallway and into his bedroom. He stopped himself, his eyes flitting around at the belongings he'd probably never see again before he realized he didn't have time to waste and dashed to his closet to pull out his largest suitcase. He began ripping clothes off hangers, including pieces of his Dalton uniform, and stuffing them inside along with a couple pairs of shoes and then he dragged the thing out of the closet and over to his dresser, emptying the contents of one drawer before his father's voice drifted up from downstairs.

"Ten minutes!"

Blaine wiped quickly at the tears clouding his vision as he rushed around the room, grabbing his cell phone and cell phone charger, a picture of his mom from his nightstand, plucking the pictures of his friends and Kurt off his corkboard, and grabbing a card he'd received from his mother for his birthday last year. He shoved his phone in his pocket and everything else inside the suitcase, heedless of the clutter and glanced around his room again. What else could he take? He had so many books, he had so many things, but when it came right down to it, he didn't know what he could or couldn't live without. In the end, he ended up snatching his copies of Tennyson's poems and his old copy of 'Where the Red Fern Grows' that his mother had given him so very long ago off his shelves and stuffing them into his suitcase. It was now filled to the brim.

"Five minutes!" his father shouted.

Blaine's tears were flowing freely as he struggled with zipping the suitcase, tucking in shirt ends and hems of jeans that were sticking out. When he finally had the thing zipped up, he collapsed on top of the luggage and began to cry outright.

Why, why was this happening? He'd never…his father had never acted like this, he'd never even hinted at throwing Blaine out of their house. Blaine knew he'd always had some kind of subtle, underlying issue with Blaine's sexuality but he certainly never expected it to come to this.

"That's it!" Blaine's father yelled and then Blaine could hear angry, heavy footsteps stomping up the staircase.

So he lifted his tired body off the suitcase and crawled to his feet, pulling the suitcase upright just as his father stormed into the room.

"Now get OUT of my house and don't even think of coming back!" his father spat, tugging the suitcase out of Blaine's hands and throwing it into the hallway.

Blaine trailed after the one thing he was allowed to keep, ducking his head as he passed by his father, who was having no such thing. His father gripped the collar of Blaine's shirt and tossed him at the suitcase, both clattering to the floor.

"Get out!" his father shouted again. "Out!"

"I'm t-trying," Blaine stuttered, clambering to his feet and dragging the suitcase behind him as he made his way down the hall.

"Your fifteen minutes were up FIVE minutes ago, boy!" Blaine's father snapped.

What Blaine did not expect was for his father to push him forward when he was already halfway down the stairs, effectively toppling both he and his suitcase.

Blaine fell, step by agonizing step, until he reached the ground floor, his suitcase colliding with his throbbing back.

"Get the hell out of my house!" his father yelled on final time, kicking at the suitcase which dug into Blaine's abused flesh.

Refusing to go through any more pain than he had to, Blaine shot to his feet despite his aching body, grabbed his suitcase, and tumbled out the door.

He heard the audible lock behind him as he stood, lost, on the doorstep. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye from the window and continued down the path, down the driveway, and down the sidewalk. He walked and walked and walked, past houses of neighbors, past the local elementary school, past even more houses, until he was in an undeveloped part of the housing edition.

His heart was racing as he fished his phone of out his pocket with nervous, shaky fingers. Oh, thank god, it hadn't been broken when he fell down the stairs.

But…who should he call?

Obviously, his first thought was Kurt. He could call Kurt. He should call Kurt. Kurt would help make this all better.

But Kurt had only just recovered from his own traumatic experience and he didn't need Blaine's drama in his life. Kurt didn't need…he didn't need this.

He stared at his mother's number on his phone screen.

His mom.

Blaine loved his mom. He loved her dearly. She had always been so accepting of him, no matter what. She had held him when he first revealed to his parents that he was gay, when his father had shouted at him for it and then disappeared out of the house for two days. His mother had let him cry, she let him be confused, she let him be exactly who he was.

But she had also advised him, in the same breath, to not speak very much to his father about the issue.

Blaine knew his mother loved him. But she wasn't a strong enough woman to stand up to her husband. She wouldn't fight his father over this issue. Because, while he loved her, he knew she was meek and mild and never argued with his father when he put his foot down for whatever reason.

Even if that reason was her son.

So there was nothing Blaine could do. Well, regarding her there was nothing he could do.

He glanced at the rest of his contacts in his address book and while, yes, Wes and David were really good friends…he just couldn't do this to them. Not to mention, their parents were good friends of his parents and things just might not turn out so well.

Blaine swallowed his pride and called Kurt's number. He didn't know if he wanted him to pick up or not.

"Hello?"

Well, okay, that answered that.

"…Blaine? Are you there?"

"H-hi Kurt. How – how'd you know it was me?"

He heard his boyfriend give a small laugh on the other end of the line. "Caller ID, Blaine. It's not exactly new."

"Right. Yeah. Right."

Blaine fell silent. He honestly didn't know how to begin this conversation. How do you tell someone that your life just crumbled down all around you in the last half hour?

"Blaine?" Kurt prompted. "Is something wrong? You said you wouldn't be able to call until after dinner."

"No," Blaine replied. "Well – I mean yes. Yeah, something…something's wrong."

"What happened, what's going on?"

"I…can you…can you come pick me up?"

"Where are you?" Kurt asked at once and Blaine could already hear Kurt snatching his keys off of some surface. "I'm leaving my house now."

"My – my housing edition but…off Polaris Street. They haven't built any houses here yet."

Blaine heard Kurt slam his car door closed.

"I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere, stay right where you are. I'll be there soon."

"Kurt?" Blaine spoke tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Of course," Kurt replied softly. "Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay."

He ended the call and pocketed his phone, sighing heavily. He did not want to tell Kurt what happened. He leaned on top of his suitcase and settled in for a wait. The sun was setting and Blaine pulled his Dalton blazer tighter around his shoulders. He hadn't even changed when his father arrived home and the argument ensued. He couldn't even remember what clothes he'd stuffed into his suitcase besides more uniform pants, blazers and ties.

Everything had just…just happened so fast. It felt like his life had just sort of ended and now…what now? He couldn't stay with Kurt forever, that wasn't a feasible option. He had plenty of money. When he turned seventeen, he had been able to open his own savings account and his parents had blessed him with…well, with plenty of money to last him for a while. And it was money his parents couldn't touch now, even if his father wanted it back. There had been an argument between his mother and father, but then his mother persuaded his father to sign a few papers and that was that; Blaine now had thousands of dollars in his account that belonged to him and only him.

But, ha, money didn't mean a damn thing when you had no place to live and you were sitting on the side of the road, the contents of one suitcase and the clothes on your back being the only things you had to your name.

Blaine didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but he eventually saw Kurt's navigator turn the corner and pull up next to the curb in front of him. Kurt climbed out of the driver's seat, car still running, and rushed over to pull Blaine into his arms.

"Ah!" Blaine hissed when Kurt's arms squeezed a little too tight around his back.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, stepping away immediately. "What-"

"Not…just…can we get in the car?"

"Yes. Yeah, here," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's suitcase and tossing it into the back of his car. They climbed inside and Kurt pulled away from the curb and drove down the road. "I'm guessing you didn't call me so that I could take you home, considering your house is about a twenty minute walk from here."

"No," Blaine said softly. "Can I…stay with you tonight?"

"Yes," Kurt said instantly.

"Shouldn't you um, ask your dad first?"

"He'll understand," Kurt assured him, reaching over to take a hold of Blaine's hand. "Can you tell me what happened now?"

Blaine nodded, turning to face away from Kurt and look out the passenger side window. "My dad threw me out."

"…What?"

"I told him that I had a boyfriend. We got into a really bad argument and he – he grabbed me and…he told me I had to leave."

"Wait, he grabbed you? He hurt you?"

"It's not that bad," Blaine tried to say. "It could have been way worse."

"Okay. What happened exactly?" Kurt asked, needing the entire story.

"I told him I was dating you," Blaine began again. "He didn't exactly agree with the fact that I was dating a guy, despite knowing that I'm gay. We got into an argument, I yelled at him a lot, pretty much saying that I knew he never agreed with me being gay and I knew he never really cared about me. He grabbed my wrist, threw me down, told me to get out. He gave me fifteen minutes to pack so I put whatever I could in my suitcase and then he threw me down the stairs. I left and here I am," he finished succinctly.

Kurt kept shooting him shocked, open-mouthed glances while still trying to focus on the road at the same time.

"Are you – Blaine, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital or something?"

"No," Blaine said quietly, shaking his head, still not looking at Kurt. "I just want to…" he was about to say 'go home' but then he realized he didn't have a home anymore. "I just want to sleep. Or something. Just…do something to not think about it."

Kurt nodded and then they settled into silence until Kurt turned into his subdivision and pulled up next to the curb in front of his house. Blaine undid his seatbelt, ready to climb out of the car, but Kurt stopped him with a hand on his thigh.

"You…you know you're going to have to talk about it some time, right?" Kurt tried to ask as delicately as possible. "This isn't something you can avoid."

"I know," Blaine said with a tired nod. And he did know. He knew he'd have to figure everything out soon enough. But right now he just…couldn't. "Just not tonight."

Kurt pinched his lips between his teeth but removed his hand from Blaine's leg and they climbed out of the car. Blaine retrieved his suitcase and followed Kurt to the front door and inside.

"Kurt, where the hell – oh," his dad stopped midsentence. "Hey Blaine."

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Blaine replied flatly. "Good to see you again, sir."

"Likewise," Burt said. "But uh…what's going on?"

"You take your stuff up to my room," Kurt instructed Blaine. "I'll be up in a minute."

Blaine dragged his tired body and his heavy suitcase up the stairs to Kurt's room. He barely heard Burt questioning Kurt behind him as he went. He seriously hoped Kurt could explain the dire situation and that Burt wouldn't have a problem with his son's boyfriend invading their home on a school night. Blaine let his suitcase fall heavily against a wall, kicked off his shoes, and crawled onto Kurt's bed fully clothed.

Oh and it smelled so nice here. The pillows were soft against his face and everything simply reeked Kurt and Blaine felt like he was slowly falling into heaven. He vaguely remembered waking up in Kurt's bed once before, though the situation had been less than ideal considering he'd been completely hung over. Why did he always end up in Kurt's bed for reasons that had nothing to do with what beds were usually used for when you were dating their owner?

Blaine fell into a peaceful, contented lull with the scent of Kurt all around him and he only barely heard Kurt's footsteps when his boyfriend walked into the room. He kept his eyes closed, even when Kurt urged him to sit up so he could remove his blazer and undo his school tie.

"My dad said it was okay for you to stay here for as long as you needed," Kurt informed him, his voice quiet as the sun almost completely set, a few faint rays of light dipping into the room. "And he said it was okay for you to stay in my room with me, so long as we didn't get up to anything inappropriate."

Blaine gave a week, barely audible laugh in return, lying back down on the bed. "Tell him I said thank you."

"Do you want to come down for dinner?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head against the soft pillows. No, no he didn't want to go anywhere or do anything but sleep until his life suddenly righted itself, even though he knew that wouldn't be any time soon.

"Okay," Kurt spoke quietly, understanding. "Well change out of your uniform at least. If you didn't get to pack any sleep clothes, dig around in my closet until you find something to sleep in."

"Thank you," Blaine whispered, finally opening his eyes to stare tiredly at his very gracious, very considerate boyfriend. "I don't…I don't know how else I can thank you. I don't know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Kurt said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Blaine's dry lips. "You just get ready for bed. And you go to sleep. I'll be back up soon. You can take a shower if you want."

Blaine gave a small, almost imperceptible smile and lifted his head up to kiss Kurt once more. Not knowing what else to do or say, Kurt stood and left the room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

It was perfectly silent in the room now. The air conditioner wasn't even running and there wasn't a ticking clock.

It was calming.

Blaine dragged himself out of the bed, wandering over to his suitcase to dig through the contents. Fuck, he hadn't packed pajamas. How had he emptied an entire drawer and failed to pack a pair of pajama pants? Well, at least it looked like he'd packed plenty of underwear. As per Kurt's instructions, he rooted through Kurt's closet until he found a dresser drawer full of night clothes. He sighed as he rid himself of the rest of his uniform and pulled on a pair of comfortable pajama pants that felt really nice against his skin. He found a plain white t-shirt and before he put it on, he dropped his uniform on top of his suitcase and turned to peer in Kurt's mirror.

Good god, Blaine thought as he turned and saw his back. Not only did he have a faint bruise forming on his wrist, but he had one on his upper arm and plenty others smattering the tender flesh of his back from where he had collided with the steps of the stairs as he fell.

Unable to look anymore, Blaine tugged the t-shirt over his head. It smelled like Kurt, just like the pillows and it warmed his heart just a tiny bit. The pants were a little too long for his short frame but Blaine smiled despite the situation he was in and crawled back into Kurt's bed, this time sliding under the comforter and pulling it up to his chin.

It was warm here.

It was safe here.

And he prayed things would look a little less bleak come morning.

He drifted in and out of sleep and only woke fully when he heard Kurt tiptoe back into his room.

"Hey," Blaine greeted tiredly as Kurt shuffled over to his closet to change.

"Can't sleep?" Kurt wondered.

"Not really."

Blaine peered at Kurt through his reflection in the mirror, shamelessly gazing as Kurt switched on a light and tugged off his own shirt to change into a sleep shirt. He watched the slight muscles ripple in his back, pale flesh marred by a few scars and Blaine had to wonder where exactly they came from. He suspected they were from him being shoved into lockers and tossed into dumpsters, and they were new to this whole relationship thing so Blaine figured that now wouldn't exactly be the best time to ask for clarification. When Kurt began to removes his jeans, Blaine closed his eyes and turned his back to the mirror, not wanted to invade Kurt's privacy to that specific degree.

He only opened his eyes when Kurt shut off the light and slid into bed next to him, settling himself under the covers. They stayed silent for a few moments, holding their breath until Blaine finally reached his hand over under the sheet to search for Kurt's. He heard Kurt exhale into the silence of the room as their fingers intertwined.

"Haven't even been boyfriends for a whole day and I've already got you in my bed," Kurt tossed out.

Blaine released a small, relieved laugh, thankful for Kurt's sense of humor as he rolled over and cuddled up next to his boyfriend. Kurt released his hold on Blaine's hand and reached his arm up and over Blaine's head, inviting him closer. Blaine snuggled up, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the soft cotton of his shirt. His scent was so dense here, so comforting and so completely wonderful that Blaine couldn't help but sigh happily as he settled into the crook of Kurt's arm.

"You're amazing," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's neck.

"I'm only being a decent human being," Kurt countered quietly.

"Well, as proven by my father, there are plenty of people that aren't."

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Blaine's head, still thick with gel. "I'm sorry all of this happened to you. You don't…you don't deserve any of it."

Blaine didn't say anything, he merely draped his arm across Kurt's chest, snaking his hand up until it cupped Kurt's neck.

"Things will get better," Kurt attempted to reassure him. "I promise."

And if it had been anyone else, Blaine might not have believed those words. But they came from Kurt and Kurt cared about him and he cared about what happened to him and he kissed him so sweetly and he let Blaine cuddle up against him and he smelled so divine.

So Blaine nodded slowly, kissed Kurt's collar bone through his shirt, and fell into a calm, restful sleep.

Morning would come soon, but for now they had soft pillows and slow heartbeats. They had something worth fighting for and they had the moonlight splayed across their sleeping forms.

They had each other.

END.