Most of Blaine’s life, he’s struggled with anxiety and depression.

He would say it started in high school because isn’t that when depression usually starts? But in all honesty, it started before that, because even if twelve-year-old him, or even eight-year-old him, couldn’t recognize or understand depression, he knew that something was wrong. Something he didn’t know how to talk about. He had an amazing childhood all things considered. He had wonderful parents who loved and supported him entirely. No matter what he wanted to do, they were behind him 100%. When he said he wanted to join the circus and become an acrobat, they enrolled him in a circus day camp put on by the city. Blaine had wanted to be a trapeze artist so badly. Night after night, he pictured himself swinging high in the air, athletic and confident, and handsome, performing flips and catches to the ooo’s and ahh’s of the audience below.

Not until he got there, however, did he discover how afraid of heights he was. Not just a mild trepidation, but an all-out, paralyzing fear.

So when that fell thru, his parents took a heartbroken Blaine, sat him down, and opened a dialogue. They talked about what worked, what didn’t, what Blaine enjoyed about being a trapeze artist, what scared him the most, and in the end, they found a solution.

They enrolled him in gymnastics.

Because those were the types of people his parents were. They had come from poor families, and wanted better for their sons. Even if they didn’t wholly agree with the paths their boys wanted to take, they didn’t want to be obstacles standing in their way. 

“Life his short,” Blaine’s mother always said. “The only choice you have is to live it.”

So gymnastics it was, and Blaine got pretty good at it. Good enough to compete nationally, even win a few gold medals. But after a mysterious bout of vertigo knocked him off the horizontal bar, Blaine and his parents sat down again. After a long conversation about what Blaine wanted and what he could physically do, he traded gymnastics for dance, and Blaine found his niche. He had a natural knack, and best of all, dance was something Blaine could picture himself doing for the rest of his life.

And he was happy.

But he also wasn’t, and that confused him, which made the matter worse.

Blaine’s brother was of absolutely no help, and when his parents realized the actual amount of damage Cooper’s constant teasing was doing to Blaine, they told Cooper in no uncertain terms that he needed to either back off or leave. Not because they favored Blaine over Cooper, but because Cooper should know better. He was older than Blaine by almost a decade. And if he didn’t know better by now, he needed to learn that there were consequences for his actions.

Cooper packed up and moved out that summer.

And even though a part of Blaine missed having his big brother around, missed the relationship he always dreamed of them having, Blaine was happy.

But, again, he also wasn’t.

When Blaine finally told his parents that there was something wrong, something that trapeze and gymnastics and dance couldn’t fix, they put their heads together again and tried to come up with a solution. Remarkably, their first impulse wasn’t to try and “fix” Blaine. They educated themselves, and found him a therapist that could help. They did their best to relieve his stress, pulled him out of public school and put him into a private school they thought would better serve his needs. They never blamed Blaine when he felt unhappy, never told him he was ungrateful, never made him feel guilty when times got tough. They stood by him every step of the way. Blaine’s parents were the best parents a boy like him could have ever asked for. He never thought he would find anyone as accepting and compassionate as them.

And as graduation loomed near, that thought made him anxious, frightened of leaving home and moving to New York.

Blaine thrived within his support system, and for the years that he had it, he fooled himself into believing that the whole world worked the way it did at Dalton, and at home with his parents. But he knew it didn’t. In New York City especially, everyone seemed so independent … so out for themselves. He was eager to be a New Yorker, eager to fit in there. He tried assimilate, but he couldn’t. The school he started attending, NYADA, was a different universe compared to Dalton. Blaine was no longer one of the big fish. The pond had gotten larger overnight, and he was having a hard time swimming in it. He needed guidance. He found a new therapist, but this time therapy didn’t work for him the same way. He had changed, and his anxieties had, too. He needed something different, he just didn’t know what, or where to look for it. He tried to explain his needs to his therapist, and then to another one. They both told him that therapy would work for him. He just needed to give it time.

Blaine plugged along. He coupled his work load at NYADA with night school courses and got his teaching certificate, just in case his dreams of stardom fell through. He became overwhelmed by school and work and auditions, but he felt that being busy was the key to not feeling miserable. And where he could be proud that he was still taking steps towards pursuing his dream, every audition he went on required hours of preparation just to walk out the door, not to mention get to the theater. Even a good audition took him a day to recover from. A rejection – close to a week. And it was a week full of vitriolic self-criticism and doubt until he wondered why it was he even bothered. He wasn’t good enough. He’d never be good enough. Maybe he was a big shot in Ohio, but that was Ohio. In New York, he was nothing. His audition for Kinky Boots was going to be his last – his make it or break it audition. If he didn’t get the part, he would give up his dream of Broadway altogether, withdraw from NYADA, and become a teacher full time.

As luck would have it, he nailed it. But he didn’t only get his break-out role. He got the help he’d been longing for so badly.

Blaine met Kurt at that audition, and from their first conversations - a week filled with all night phone calls and daily texts – Blaine’s jumbled world started to make sense again.

Not because Kurt came into his life with orders and conditions.

Not because Kurt said, “I own you. You’ll do what I say.”

Not because Kurt made rules and forced Blaine to his knees.

Not because Kurt spanked Blaine and locked him in a cage.

But because Kurt treated Blaine like a prince.

Kurt wooed Blaine from the start, made him feel special and important.

Kurt was honest with Blaine about everything – his feelings, his experiences, and most importantly, his intentions.

Kurt didn’t demand anything from Blaine. Kurt took the time to earn it – Blaine’s respect, his love, and eventually, his submission.

Kurt didn’t make a single decision about their contract without Blaine’s input, because, above all things, Blaine is Kurt’s partner.

Kurt doesn’t take away Blaine’s freedom; he gives him structure.

Kurt doesn’t isolate Blaine; he encourages him to follow his dreams, and helps him find the path that will take him there. He introduces him to new people, gets him involved in the world around him, but at Blaine’s speed, not Kurt’s.

He doesn’t take away Blaine’s strength, doesn’t leave him weak and helpless; he builds Blaine up in creative ways, puts time and effort into him, and adds to Blaine’s reserves where he can.

Kurt doesn’t force Blaine to be his mindless puppet. Kurt respects Blaine’s opinions. Blaine’s feelings are valid. And Kurt has faith in him.

With Blaine in Kurt’s life, Kurt has someone to care for, someone to nurture and to spoil. Giving Blaine structure helps Kurt maintain structure for himself. Blaine gives Kurt an outlet to exercise his need for control, helps him calm the chaos in his mind.

What Kurt and Blaine have together is built on communication, not intimidation.

Kurt’s Domination relieves Blaine’s anxiety. It helps Blaine cope. It makes him feel stronger.

Blaine’s submission relieves Kurt’s OCD. It helps Kurt cope. It makes him feel stronger.

And they love one another.

It’s not a relationship that works for everyone, but it works for them.

And that’s all that matters.