Chapter Text
Please enjoy the fanmix to accompany the story by clicking on the cover or following the link: https://www.dropbox.com/s/a576z9vch2gqssw/Unfound%20Family%20mix.zip?dl=0
Blaine wasn’t sure whether deciding to come out was the best decision he’d ever made or the worst. There were benefits. He could live freely, no longer afraid that someone was going to find out the secret that he’d started to feel was overwhelming him. He no longer had to worry that he was going to say the wrong thing, that something was going to slip. That someone was going to see through him, about that at least.
Right now? Blaine was questioning that decision like never before. Why hadn’t he decided to just keep his head down and keep it in? Hadn’t he had enough life lessons about that before this? Even times for life to prove that if you make yourself into whatever people want to see, the pain is less? Apparently not. Because here he was, regretting every decision he’d made in the last month.
It had started with words, at first just whispered in the hallways, and then louder and louder as no one stepped in to stop them. Notes had started to find his way into his textbooks and elbows had started to find their way into his ribs as he walked down the hallways. Elbows became shoves, leaving bruises. But bruises were nothing new. Words were nothing new. Not even these words. His father had left bruises. His mother had preferred words. Blaine had known before he could really read that both could leave marks.
So really, he should have expected this, Blaine supposed, taking a moment to force breath back into his lungs as he stared at the word that had been sharpied boldly across his locker. Fag. He felt tears prick his eyes and forced them back. He would not give them the pleasure of seeing him break down in tears. Not here in the middle of the hallway. He’d learned that from a previous foster father. Show that it bothers you and things will only get one hundred times worse.
Blaine’s hands shook as he twisted the dial on the lock. He just had to get his biology book out, and he could get out of this place. He could go look up how to get that marker off his locker.
Blaine shoved the book into his battered backpack, zipping it up as he walked down the hallway. If he could just make it to the door without any more name calling or shoves, he could get out of this hell hole without breaking down into tears.
The fact that it was a friendly voice calling out his name didn’t make Blaine jump any less high. “Blaine! Wait up!”
Blaine slowed his footsteps down, forcing a wavering smile onto his face. “Hi, Ian.”
“Safety in numbers?” Ian suggested with a wry smile as he fell into step beside Blaine, pushing the door open to take them out into the autumn sunshine.
“You don’t have Jazz Band today?” Blaine asked, relieved that Ian seemed not to have noticed his locker. Right now, Blaine just wanted to be able to pretend that everything was normal.
“Mr. Williams got strep or something. Man, I can’t wait to turn sixteen and not have to walk,” Ian sighed with a glance toward the upperclassmen piling into cars in the parking lot. “Three more months.”
Blaine just made a noncommittal noise. He still had more than a year and half, not that it would matter. Who was going to buy him a car? “At least it’s not raining today.”
“True!” Ian spun around, reaching his arms up toward the blue sky. Blaine pulled on the ends of his backpack straps, tugging it closer. Part of him loved how free Ian always seemed to feel. How easy it was for his friend to be himself. The rest? Sometimes he worried that Ian called too much attention to them. They were already the only two guys out of the closet at this school. They drew enough attention without Ian’s exuberance. “Although, if it was pouring we could dance in the rain and jump in puddles,” Ian hopped over a crack in the sidewalk as if in demonstration.
“I’d rather not catch cold,” Blaine muttered, kicking a rock out of his way.
“Speaking of dancing, did you see the posters for the Sadie Hawkins?” Ian didn’t even give Blaine time to nod or shake his head before he continued. “A dance where the girls ask the boys? What good is that if you don’t want a girl asking you?”
“I guess they just wanted something different. Homecoming is really late this year, so maybe they’re just trying to fill in the gap,” Blaine suggested.
“Well, they could have done it another way. And who the heck schedules Homecoming for November anyway? Hey, wait…” Ian spun around, walking backwards so that he could face Blaine. “Why don’t we buck tradition? Go together. As friends.”
“I- Are you asking me to the dance?” Blaine hesitated, feeling like the bottom was dropping out of his stomach.
“I am.” Ian dropped down to one knee on the sidewalk, reaching out to tug one of Blaine’s hands off of his backpack strap. “Blaine Anderson, would you accompany me to the Sadie Hawkins dance in the ultimate gesture of friendship?”
Blaine’s gut screamed that this was a horrible idea, but then there was Ian looking at him hopefully. Ian who had just immediately accepted Blaine for who he was. Gay. Foster kid. All of it. Ian who had become a friend so quickly that Blaine forgot that he hadn’t always known him. There was no way he could say no to Ian. “I- We’ll have to be really careful.”
Blaine couldn’t hold back a laugh as he and Ian pushed through the heavy, double doors of the gym and out into the cool night air. “You were right. This was a great idea.”
Ian spun around, dress shirt damp with sweat from the confined space and a smile to match Blaine’s on his face. “Cheesy high school dances are always a great idea. Even if we had to stick to fast songs, we got to see the gaudy decorations and drink some god awful punch.”
Blaine nudged his shoulder into Ian’s. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“I think they made it with someone’s gym socks,” Ian said with a mock serious expression on his face.
“I’m sorry that we have to leave so early,” Blaine sighed, looking up at the stars in the night sky, stepping farther out away from the school.
“You have a curfew. I understand. It’s not like my parents mind us going home early. My dad will be here to pick us up anytime now.” Ian dropped the act, answering sincerely. “I’m just glad you got to come.”
“Me, too. I’m pretty sure I was only allowed because they don’t actually know that you’re gay. Or because they thought maybe I’d change my mind when I saw all the girls dressed up.”
Ian bumped back into Blaine’s shoulder, “I’m sorry they suck. But you know that you always have a refuge at my place whenever you might need it. My parents love you.”
“Oooh. Is that how it is now?”
Blaine jumped at the deep voice behind him, turning back to see three of the football players staring right at them. “We’re just leaving.” Blaine tried to force calm into his voice as he recognized the speaker. He’d shoved Blaine into enough lockers to be a face Blaine would never forget.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Blaine didn’t even see who said that. Three jocks seemed to have become more. Or maybe it just felt that way as he saw a punch knock the wind out of Ian. Something hard - a boot maybe or a bat, made contact with his knee. He heard the pop just before he fell, pain radiating out over his entire body. His head hit the concrete with a thunk and time seemed to lose meaning. There were nasty words and pain raining down on him one second and there was Ian’s father leaning over him the next only to be replaced with the ceiling of an ambulance.
The next thing he remembered were the bright lights of the emergency room. His head throbbing. His leg throbbing. People talking. People touching him, cutting off the only pair of dress clothes he owned, the shirt he’d worked so hard to iron perfectly.
“Does he have a wallet on him? School ID? Anything? We need to find his parents.”
“Not my parents,” Blaine slurred, his tongue feeling dry and rough in his mouth. “Justin. Call Justin.”
A brighter light flashed into his eyes, and he blinked them closed for a moment before he opened them to see a small woman in a white lab coat. “Glad to see you back with us, Blaine. Follow my finger?” It was work, forcing his eyes to focus as she moved it about his face. It was work just to keep them open. “Good boy. Now, why should we call Justin?”
“My caseworker.” Blaine fought the pull under, struggling to stay awake. “What happened? How did I get here?”
The doctor turned to the woman beside her and barked out orders. “Get someone to call DCFS. Order a head CT and get someone from ortho down here to look at that knee.” She turned back to Blaine, her tone gentler. “Do you remember going to a dance at school?”