"Do you know what this is?" William Anderson threw an envelope on the table.

Blaine nodded.

"It's another rejection letter. The fourth one you've gotten. Do you know why you're getting them, Blaine?"�

Blaine shook his head.�

"Because you're not good enough," Mr. Anderson said quietly. "Because you're a failure. You have wasted the time you spent at Dalton - a school that could have guaranteed you a place at an excellent school - and you threw it all away." He shook his head. "We should have forced those men to keep you."

Blaine's head jerked up. "What men?" he whispered.�

His father froze, realizing his mistake just a moment too late. His face twisted into a grimace. "These...faggots wanted a kid. Some woman offered to be the mom. Turns out she was having twins and they couldn't afford to keep both kids. Your mother was at the hospital one day when that woman was there, and she convinced your mother to adopt the other kid."�

Blaine's hands clenched into fists.��

"That kid was you. We took you home - your mother convinced me it was the right thing to do - and agreed to keep you away from your birth parents." He rolled his eyes, picking up the envelope and beginning to tear it into pieces. "Should have known the son of a fag would turn out to be one, too."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments; the silence between them only broken by the sound of papers being torn apart.

Blaine swallowed hard. "Who were they?" he asked quietly.�

"What?" His father didn't look up.�

"The men. Who were they."�

Mr. Anderson waved a hand. "Their last name was something about fruit. No idea what their first names were.... - Blaine. Blaine, where the hell do you think you're going? Get back here or I'll -"�

"You'll what?" Blaine asked, voice hollow. "Throw me out? Disown me? I'm not even your son."�

And with those words he walked out the front door.

----------

Blaine arrived at Scandals shortly after sunset. The bouncer barely glanced at his ID before handing it back to him and motioning him inside.��

He was on his third (fourth? Everything was so fuzzy) drink when someone sat down next to him and took his glass away.�

"You can't just steal my drink,"Blaine said, voice slurring a little.�

"I'm not stealing it," the young man said quietly. "But I think you've had enough."�

Blaine rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head and wincing a little. "...Dave Karofsky. What the hell are you doing here?"

Dave sighed. "That's not important. I think the real question is, why are you here drinking yourself into oblivion?"

Blaine muttered something under his breath and reached for his drink.�

Dave pulled the drink further away and reached out a hand, grabbing Blaine's wrist and stopping his movement.�

"Let go of me," Blaine said, yanking his arm free.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Blaine," Dave said quietly.

Blaine snorted. "Like I can believe you. You spent years bullying peop-"�

"I'm different now," Dave interrupted. "I may not be out and proud like you and Kurt, but I don't attack people for being different anymore."

Blaine scoffed, reaching past Dave for his drink and downing it.

"I'm serious," Dave insisted. "Ask Kurt if you don't believe me."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "As if I'd believe Kurt would willingly speak to you."

Dave shifted on his barstool, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone. He tapped at the screen for a few moments, then held it out for Blaine to see.

Contact information

Kurt Hummel�

Mobile:419-555-4545

Home:419-555-6783

email: kurt.hummel@gmail.com

"You could have gotten all of that through McKinley before you left," Blaine said, turning away and motioning to the bartender to refill his drink.

Dave tapped at his phone some more, then set it in front of Blaine again.

He'd opened up his text messages.

Kurt had sent him one just two days before.

"Even if I had gotten the information on my own, I couldn't fake this," he said quietly.

Blaine's shoulders slumped and he shoved the phone aside.

Dave pocketed his phone. "Blaine, whatever it is, you know drinking isn't going to help. You'll just feel even worse tomorrow."�

"I don't care," Blaine said, gulping down his drink. "I can't possibly feel much worse than I already do."

"I know you're going to say you don't want to talk about it but...it might help if you tell me anyway. Hell, I might be the best person for you to tell since you won't see me again any time soon."

Blaine stared moodily at his empty cup, the fingers of one hand drumming restlessly on the counter. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Dave stood. "I'll be here for a bit yet if you change your -"

"I'm...adopted," Blaine said quietly, his hand curling into a fist.

Dave sat down again. "And?" he prompted.

"My so-called parents think I'm a faggy little failure, and my birth parents didn't want me, either."

"Blaine..."

"I should be used to it by now," Blaine said, his voice strangely calm. "I've never been good enough, never been 'manly' enough or smart enough or...whatever else they wanted me to be. It shouldn't surprise me that they didn't want me, period."

He stood up, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“No one wants me,” he said, so softly Dave barely caught the words.

He followed Blaine out the door towards his car.

“Blaine, stop - stop - what are you doing?” Dave grabbed one of his arms as Blaine reached for his keys.

“Let go of me,” Blaine growled, yanking on his arm. He dug his keys out of his pocket and leaned towards his car.

Dave dropped his arm and snatched the keys from his hand. “I am not letting you get behind the wheel of your car in the state you’re in - you’ll get someone killed.”

“Maybe I want to die,” Blaine said, reaching for his keys.

“And that’s the alcohol talking.” Dave held Blaine’s keys above his head, reaching for his phone with the other and beginning a call.

Blaine’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

Dave stepped away.

“Dave, what the hell are you - ”

“Hey - Kurt? I’m sorry to call you so late - yes, yes I’m fine but ah...well, I’m with Blaine, actually -”

Blaine lunged at Dave, knocking his phone from his hand.

“Oh honestly,” Dave said, bending to retrieve his phone.

Blaine chose that moment to tackle him, though Dave managed to hang onto his phone.

“Dave? DAVID! What the hell is going on? Where ARE you?” Kurt was beginning to sound frightened.

“We’re at Scandals in the - oof - parking lot, and Blaine’s too - OUCH, goddammit Anderson - he’s too drunk to drive. Will you come get him or should I drive him over?”

He heard Kurt sigh. “I don’t suppose you could drive him to his house?”

Dave rolled over, pinning Blaine beneath him. “No. No, that wouldn’t be a very good idea.” He couldn’t keep an...odd note from creeping into his voice, and Kurt picked up on it.

“What happened with his parents, Dave?”

“Kurt - I don’t think it’s my pla-”

“TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!”

Dave sighed. “He got into a bad fight with his dad - he’s not hurt physically, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He heard Kurt sigh. “Well, it could be worse, I suppose. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks, Kurt.”

“Oh, and, David?”

�“Yeah?”

“Thanks for watching out for him.”

------------

Blaine was leaning up against his car when Kurt arrived, eyes closed and leaning against Dave’s shoulder.

“Hey, Kurt.”

“David...Blaine?” Kurt reached out a hand, touching Blaine’s shoulder lightly. Blaine jerked away.

Kurt sighed, running a hand across his face. “Blaine, c’mon, let’s go home.” He held out a hand, palm up, and waited.

Dave moved away, draping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and tugging him away from the car. “Come on, Anderson. It’s time for you to go.”

The two of them got Blaine settled in the passenger seat of Kurt’s car, closing the door quickly as Blaine tilted towards the window.

Kurt sighed.

“Hey, Kurt?”

He turned to Dave. “Yes?”

“He’s probably not going to remember too much tomorrow, and he’ll probably be up half the night hurling his guts out.”

Kurt huffed impatiently. “Yes, and?”

Dave sighed. “Just...go easy on him, I guess? Don’t start yelling at him for being an idiot and drinking, even though that’s the truth.”

Kurt stared hard at Dave for a few moments. “Alright,” he said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dave smiled a little. “Thanks, Kurt.”

Kurt walked around to the driver’s door. “No...thank you, David. For watching out for him when no one else was here.”

--------

Dave’s predictions turned out to be entirely accurate - within an hour of arriving at Kurt’s house, Blaine was on his knees in Kurt’s bathroom, retching and heaving as his stomach tried to empty itself.

Luckily, both Carole and Burt were away for the night, and Finn had, conveniently gone to Puck’s for a Halo marathon. Kurt leaned against the wall just outside his bathroom until the only sound he heard was Blaine’s panting breaths. Kurt peered cautiously into the bathroom, a glass of water in one hand and a spare pair of pajamas in the other.

“Blaine?” Kurt whispered. “Do you want some clean clothes?”

Blaine’s head was pillowed on one of his arms, his eyes closed as his mouth open just a little. Kurt knelt down next to him. “Blaine?”

Blaine groaned, rising up on his knees as his stomach began heaving again.

Kurt closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.

-----

They didn’t leave the bathroom for over an hour. Blaine was too weak to undress himself, and Kurt had to tug off his shirt and pants and dress him in the spare clothes he had.

Shortly after midnight, Kurt tucked Blaine into his bed, an empty wastebasket sitting along the side of the bed.

When Kurt walked away to turn out the lights, Blaine whined and reached weakly for him, and Kurt sighed, returning quickly to the bed and lying down next to Blaine, one arm draped loosely over his stomach.

-----

Neither of them slept for long - Blaine woke up at least once each hour, crying so hard he made himself sick each time. Nothing Kurt said or did could soothe him.

It was terrifying to see him this way.

Around 4 am, Blaine finally slid into a slightly deeper sleep, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, burrowing beneath the sheets and wrapping his arms around Blaine.

-----

Kurt woke first in the morning, and he made sure to leave the curtains pulled, the lights off, and a glass of water, some aspirin, and some Tums sitting on the nightstand within Blaine’s reach for when he woke up.

Blaine stumbled down the stairs shortly afternoon, one hand shielding his eyes and the other clutching the railing. Kurt caught him as he reached the last step. “How are you feeling?” he murmured.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s torso, burying his face in his neck and breathing deep. “Like shit,” he mumbled.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “That’s to be expected. You want anything to eat?”

Blaine groaned.

“Okay...then how about we talk?”

Blaine stiffened in his arms.

“David didn’t tell me anything,” Kurt said. “He said it was your business, and you should be the one to tell me.”

Blaine was quiet for a long time.

So long that Kurt was sure he wasn’t going to answer, not right now.

And then Blaine broke the silence with just one small sentence.

“Rachel is my sister.”