Breathe Again

Chapter 11

Author's Note: Ahem... did I mention that I like cliffhangers? It's worth it, I promise! 

Blaine's eyes snap shut as the yelling that originates from down the stairs floats through his bedroom door, getting louder as the fight continues to rage. He didn't think that it would be this way, yet here he sits, head in his hands as his parents shout back and forth. He was sure that everything would be okay; after all, his mom had been supportive when he told her. She had given him a hug before reassuring him that he was still her baby, and nothing could ever make her love for him disappear. He wonders if that might be a lie at this point... if she might decide that supporting him and loving him might be too difficult of a task and that he isn't worth it.

"He's still your son, Andrew!" Blaine hears his mother scream, her voice a mixture of hurt and complete disbelief.

"That boy — whoever he is — is definitely not my son. I didn't raise my son to be a –"

His mother's sharp intake of breath is audible, making it clear to him that they have now moved from the kitchen to the living room, which sits in front of the stairs.

"A what, Andrew!? What exactly is he?" she is no longer shouting. Instead, her tone is flat and icy.

Blaine gets up from his bed, opening his door and slipping out of his room. As he makes his way to the stairs he can see the outline of his mom standing next to the entrance of the living room. She looks tense, arms crossed as she waits for his father to answer the question.

"A faggot," his father spits, and this time it's Blaine who sucks in a sharp breath, the words traveling from his father's lips directly to his beating heart, which stutters at the words.

"How could you?" his mother shoots back, her tone seemingly icier than before. "How could you do that to him? You've watched him grow, learn, and become the wonderful human that he is. How could you turn on him for something like this?"

His father had known that Blaine was gay for almost a year already, but he had deemed it a phase that would pass over, and that he would be content once it had. This evening however, had changed things completely.

His parents were supposed to have been attending some gala of sorts for a foundation. He had figured that he was safe in the house until at least midnight before they came home, but he had been proven wrong as they made their way into the house around seven that evening. Blaine had been slightly occupied when they slipped into the house, so he hadn't heard them come in or make their way up the stairs. They definitely hadn't been expecting to find him in his room, half naked, with another boy sprawled out beneath him, also missing quite a few layers of clothing.

His father had lost it the second his eyes had landed on the poor boy that was laying on Blaine's bed, eyes wide upon spotting Blaine's parents in the doorway. Skip ahead forty-five minutes and one embarrassing goodbye, and here he sat as his parents battled back and forth over him.

"I told you, he's not the boy that I raised. I have no idea who that boy up there is, and to be frank, I don't want to know," his father spits before moving past his mom, making his way to the front door, shrugging on his coat.

"Andrew," his mother huffs, turning to face him. It makes the boy cringe from his hiding spot by the stairs to see the hurt, betrayal and fear in his mother's eyes as she watches his father shake his head and angrily shove his shoes on. "Please don't do this. He needs you," she breathes, voice turning to a whisper as she blinks back tears that threaten to fall down her cheeks. "He needs his father."