This fan fiction is based on the fan art from Muchacha10 called "Klaine: Ugly Word." It's a heartbreaking piece of fanart! Get the link to her DeviantART on my profile!

Also, song suggestion for this fan fiction: "Sun" by Mae. The lyrics are more or less perfect for this.

GLEE

Kurt didn't know that much about Blaine Anderson.

He knew the basics, of course. He knew that Blaine loved chocolate ice cream with just a few chocolate chips. Kurt also knew that his favorite color was blue, that he was born in February, an only child and that he had a strange, and to Kurt, unhealthy obsession with Zac Efron.

Kurt knew a lot of random things about his almost boyfriend.

Almost, being the most important word.

Sure, Kurt was sure that Blaine was interested in him. There were these long stares he got from Blaine…it was similar to the way that Burt looked at Carole. They were both flattering and unsettling.

Flattering because Kurt had never been looked at with such high regard from someone who he liked so much.

Unsettling because Blaine had yet to actually do anything but stare.

Kurt had been at Dalton for almost two months. He wanted desperately to be able to do more than have "casual" brushes of their hands with Blaine. More than sitting next to each other and pressing their legs together.

Kurt wanted to really know Blaine. Know the things that were important. Blaine, however, was very private. It seemed like the talked more about Kurt and his troubles. How he was adjusting to Dalton; how he was missing his friends.

That's why it was a huge shock to Kurt when Blaine invited him to his house.

"I'm sorry, but what?" asked Kurt.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house tomorrow?" asked Blaine again. "Have dinner and maybe watch a movie? I have this one DVD that I'm sure you'd love." He smiled.

"Oh, I would love to." Kurt was suddenly nervous and excited.

Blaine looked nervous, took. "Good," he said, a small smile on his face.

….

"Oh, wow," breathed Kurt.

Saying that Blaine's house was "nice" would be an understatement. Probably one of the century. While it wasn't excessively huge, it was tastefully decorated and very, very nice. Kurt was sure that his family would never be able to afford something like this.

"Yeah, mom's an interior decorator," laughed Blaine, taking Kurt's coat from him and hanging it up. "She likes to redecorate at least three times a year."

"It's beautiful," said Kurt. His smile almost disappeared. He realized that he had no idea, before that moment, what Blaine's parents did for a living.

"Speaking of mom, she'll be here in about an hour. You mind helping me with dinner?" asked Blaine. He was leading Kurt to the kitchen.

"Not at all," said Kurt. "I love cooking. What are we making?"

"Lasagna," answered Blaine. He was pulling ingredients out of the pantry. "Mind getting the stuff in the fridge?"

Of course the kitchen was just as artfully decorated as the rest of the house. It was also stocked with state of the art appliances.

Kurt and Blaine walked around the kitchen in silence, putting together the lasagna. A comfortable silence, mind. It was nice. Kurt felt like he and Blaine could go days without talking to each other and still be closer than most friends.

"You weren't kidding about the cooking thing," said Blaine finally, breaking the comfortable silence.

Kurt laughed as he slipped the pan in the oven and pulled of the oven mitts. "Of course not. My mom would always let me help with dinner. I picked up a lot, even for like, a seven year old." He chuckled. He had especially loved baking with his mom. He smiled at the thought. "What about you? You sure know your way around a kitchen. Your mom teach you?"

Blaine's smile faltered. He leaned up against the counter with a sigh. "Uh, no. My dad did, actually."

"Oh, that's nice," said Kurt. His dad was a horrible cook. He couldn't even make eggs without burning them. It was nice to see that Blaine had a dad that could cook. Kurt said this out loud. Blaine shrugged and mumbled something. "I'm sorry, what?" asked Kurt.

"I said…never mind," said Blaine. He was suddenly very tense and more sad than Kurt had ever seen him.

Actually, Kurt was sure he had never seen Blaine sad.

Blaine was a happy person. He was always smiling. If not smiling, he was at least in a good mood. The only time Kurt had ever seen him not in a good mood was when he had first met him, when he was talking about his old school and coming to Dalton, and confronting Karofsky.

But that had been anger and a sort of patience, respectfully, but this was just pure sadness.

Kurt stood across from Blaine and pulled himself to sit on one of the marble counters. "Blaine?" asked Kurt in a small voice. "There's something wrong."

Blaine just shrugged. He was looking at a recipe card, though he probably had the thing memorized.

"Blaine." Kurt felt like he was sounding whiney. He had wanted to say this for a while now, but he had always chickened out. But it was probably the time to ask these things. "You're acting…not yourself. Look, Blaine, I don't know much about you." Kurt sighed and crossed his legs, scooting back on the counter.

"I know the things a casual friend would know. But I'm not a casual friend." Kurt's face burned. He couldn't believe he was saying these things. It was so bold, even for Kurt. "I feel like if we're ever going to more than…more than…" Kurt stumbled over his words. "More than what we are now, I need to know what's going on up there in that head of yours."

"We talk all the time, Kurt," said Blaine. He was still avoiding Kurt's eye.

"We talk about me all the time," huffed Kurt. "It's like the Kurt Hummel Channel. We never talk about you and your life. Just about me and my problems. Look, Blaine, you talk all the time…but you never really say anything."

That got Blaine's eyes back on Kurt. Kurt was surprised to see tears in them. "Blaine," Kurt practically squeaked. "What's got you so upset? Was it me? I'm sorry. I was way too forward."

"No, it's not you," said Blaine quickly. His voice was tight and raw. He was trying not to cry. "It's just that…I always get like this when my dad is brought into the conversation."

Blaine's voice cracked on "dad".

Kurt's heartbeat quickened. His throat was thick as he spoke. "Why, Blaine?"

It was actually a thrill that Blaine seemed to be opening up to Kurt. Letting his well constructed walls down. Usually, it was Kurt who ended up teary eyed as he talked of his past, Blaine's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"My dad is gone, Kurt." Blaine's voice was rough and a few tears finally broke free from his hazel eyes.

Kurt's heart plummeted. "Is he…?"

"No." Blaine's voice was firm. "He's not dead. He just left." Blaine's hands clutched at the counter, his knuckles turning white.

"Blaine I…" Kurt paused, looking away from Blaine. He felt like such an ass. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. You can just stop if you don't want to…"

"No Kurt." Kurt looked up slowly. Blaine looked determined. He wiped away some tears. "You're right. We don't talk about me. I don't like to…but I really like you Kurt."

Kurt's face burned at the sudden confession.

"I want us to be more," said Blaine, suddenly quiet. "But I knew that if I wanted to make that happen, I would have to open myself up. I haven't really done that before, Kurt."

Kurt knew it when there was fear in someone's voice. That was Blaine at this moment, free of bravado.

Blaine swallowed once and expelled a long breath. "I was 14," he began, his voice shaky. "I had been trying to come out to my parents for a while. I knew I had to at some point, and my mom was getting really pushy about asking me if I had a girlfriend lately, so I knew it was time to come clean." Blaine frowned. "So I did. It was the eleventh of October. We had just had dinner and were in the living room. I told them that I need to tell them something. Something important."

Blaine reached up a hand to run it through his hair. It was becoming loose, the hold from his usual gel. "It was almost easy to say the words. I thought they would never come out, but they did. In a second, I went from in the closet to out and true to myself and my family. The thrill at finally being truthful only lasted for a second, though."

Blaine looked away from Kurt, not focusing on any point. He had this glazed look on his face, his tears falling again. "My dad was my hero…until I came out that night. He left a welt on my face and screamed at my mom." Blaine's hand slowly raised to his right cheek, rubbing it subconsciously.

Kurt's own cheek burned with empathy. He couldn't imagine being struck by his own father. That would probably hurt more than the welt itself.

"He told her what I was…that ugly word, Kurt." Blaine gulped. Kurt had never heard one homophobic slur cross Blaine's lips, even as an example of what he had probably been called before. "He packed his bag and left." It was said so simply. Almost with no emotion.

"He and mom got divorced. He has to pay child support, so we know he's not dead, at least. I haven't talked to him since that night."

Kurt didn't know how he would feel if he had been rejected by his father the night he came out, instead of embraced and loved. He knew his mother would never know about his sexuality, not being alive for him to really come to terms with it, but he was sure that she would have accepted him in a second.

But to be told by your own father…Kurt couldn't bare the thought.

"I begged my mother not to kick me out of the house and she didn't. She accepted me…but I could still see the space growing between us." Blaine sighed. Tears were falling in earnest now. "It's taken her a while, but she's finally accepted all of me, now. There were days when she couldn't even look at me…but now I think she finally understands. But there's still that wall, you know?"

"Blaine," said Kurt. He hadn't realized until that moment that he was crying, too. His voice was thick with tears and emotion. "I'm so sorry."

"I felt like a failure, when he called me a…" Blaine couldn't bring himself to say it. It was probably the worst word in the English language, in his opinion.

Kurt slid off the counter and crossed the empty space between them in a flash. He was pulling Blaine into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You're perfect," whispered Kurt into his ear. "Don't let anyone tell you other wise."

"Thank you, Kurt," replied Blaine, is voice quiet.

The stayed like that for a long time, Blaine crying into Kurt's shoulder, his hand in his hair. Kurt didn't even care that it would be ruffled. When Blaine finally parted from Kurt, he suddenly missed the warmth and comfort.

Blaine stumbled over to the kitchen sink and splashed some cold water in his face, then dried it with a towel. "Better," he mumbled.

"Blaine?" asked Kurt, hesitantly.

"Yes?" Blaine looked at him with a smile. This time, it was genuine, if not a little watery.

"Did you mean that? About wanting to be more?"

"Of course," laughed Blaine. "I don't tell that story to everyone…actually…no one." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hands, lancing them with his, taking another step closer to him. Kurt almost lost his breath.

Kurt looked down, slightly, into Blaine's warm eyes. Kurt felt special at that moment. More special than what it felt like to be in a spotlight, singing for the world to see.

"Good," whispered Kurt.

Then he did something that Kurt never thought he would have the courage to do.

He closed the space between he and Blaine and kissed the other boy.

It was a soft kiss. Light and airy, barely there. It was what Kurt had imagined a first kiss would be like. Beautiful, innocent and completely right.

Kurt pulled his lips back, his forehead resting on Blaine's. His breath, slightly heavy, mingled with Blaine's in the space between them.

"Perfect," muttered Blaine.

"Yes, you are," replied Kurt. Blaine chuckled. Aqua blue met those deep hazel eyes. "Nothing anyone else says matters," said Kurt, suddenly serious. "We are who we are, together."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," said Blaine, kissing Kurt's lips.

….

AN: Now, as I was writing this, I wanted to know the scene Blaine went through coming out to his parents. I ended up writing the whole scene, so I hope you like this little 'extra'.

….

"I'm gay," said Blaine, finally letting the words come out of his mouth. He dreamed of saying those words out loud for so long. It felt like a heavy burden had been taken of his shoulders, just with those two words. Blaine almost smiled.

Then he saw the looks on his parents' faces.

His mother's was one of confusion, with just a little disappointment.

His father's, on the other hand, was pure rage.

"No," he shouted, getting to his feet. "No son of my is going to be a fag!"

The word cut through his heart like a bullet. Funny, before that day, when he heard the word thrown around in the hall, it hadn't meant a think to him. It was just a word, really. But hearing it from his father's mouth, with such hate attached…

"But dad," began Blaine. He could feel his eyes burning. No, don't cry.

"No butts!" exclaimed his father. Blaine actually cowered at the volume. "You are not a fag! You are my son! My only son is not going to ruin his life screwing around with another guy!"

His father suddenly turned to his mother, still silent. "Mary-Anne, set him right!"

"Vince…" said his mother, her voice soft. "He's our son…"

"Not if he's a fag!" his father said, voice still rising. "You can't accept this, can you?"

She remained silent.

It was all the answer that his father needed. He turned to Blaine and grabbed the top of his arm roughly, leaving a bruise that would last for weeks. "Get this fairy stuff out of your head. I knew all those piano lessons would make you a little fruity, but I never expect this!"

Blaine didn't know how his dad could say such things. Blaine had never heard his father say anything homophobic at all. At least, nothing so hurtful.

"Dad, I'm gay. You have to accept that this is who I am -"

"No!"

Then the pain came, sharp and instantaneous on the right side of his face. Blaine stumbled and ran into the coffee table, causing him to fall on to the floor. He held a shocked hand up to his cheek. It was burning already, throbbing with pain.

He looked up at his father, who was shaking with rage. For a moment, Blaine thought that maybe he would die.

Then his mother jumped up, pulling his father's arm. "Don't you dare," she hissed.

His father pulled his arm out of his mom's hand. He stormed from the room. Blaine could hear the pounding footsteps on the stairs.

He was helped up by his mother, gently. She was silent as she put ice in a bag for him, giving him a towel so it wouldn't hurt his bare skin.

This took all of ten minutes. Blaine heard the pounding footsteps again. For a horrifying moment, Blaine imagined that his father would hit him again. Or mom.

Vince Anderson was holding a large suitcase in his hand and a rolling suitcase in the other. He didn't say a word to Blaine. His mother hurried after him as he walked by the kitchen. He could hear their hushed voice. An argument.

Then the front door slammed shut. He heard a car start and peal out of the driveway.

He didn't come back.

Blaine cried, his salty tears stinging his cheek. His mother didn't speak to him that night. She gave him some pain pills. The only words were, "do you need more ice?"

"Mom," he asked, later. "Please, don't kick me out." The tears were falling down his face. "Please."

"Of course I won't," she said, her voice soft. "I never…"

It was the most he could expect from her then. A promise that he would always be with her. That she might not like what his confession was, but that he would at least be safe with her.

It was enough, then.

FIN

I hope you enjoyed this!