So I've decided to embark on a multi chapter blangst fic. I hope you enjoy it and I hope the inane amount of blangst I've managed to pack into only a few chapters doesn't make it too unrealistic . It contains Warblers and Cooper, New Directions and Blaine's parents and also dives into Blaine's past. Basically I've tried to include everything I've ever wanted into one fic, so again, apologies if it's really bad.

Still homeless, so still don't own anything.

'"Do you know what they call themselves, all these people?"

Alyss shook her head. How could she know?

"Alyssians." Bibwit spelled it out.

Her heart gave a jump. Alyssians? No, they ask too much of me.

"I don't think I'm ready for all this," she said'

-Frank Beddor, The Looking Glass Wars

21st October.

1.35. The boys bathroom.

The ice cold liquid sent Blaine Anderson gasping for air as he rinsed his face for the fifth time that minute. Gripping the edge of the sink he glanced up at his reflection, ignoring the fact his jumper was slowly darkening due to the steady drips of water from his chin. Nope. Still ghostly white.

"Stop shaking." he muttered quietly, hoping the command, if spoken aloud, would shock his body into actually obeying his head, but to no avail. His hands still shock and his knuckles were surprising close to the colour of the porcelain he was leaning on. He didn't even dare to look up at his face again. He took a deep breath, sucking in harshly and spluttering. He needed to calm down. Breath. Count to ten.

"Blaine?" He wiped round suddenly, too fast, stumbling forward and only just regaining his balance by grabbing the sink once more. Kurt. Of course.

"Hi." He inwardly cursed. Hi? Just make yourself sound pathetic Blaine, that's right. It's not as if your current appearance doesn't convey that enough.

"Blaine?" Kurt repeated his name, cautiously this time, and as a question, almost daring him to deny that he wasn't ok.

"I'm fine." He smiled, more in spite of himself then to reassure his boyfriend, and turned round to dry his hands on the rough paper towels. Red. That was an odd colour for paper towels. Usually they were light blue or that weird shade of green…

"Blaine you're lying to me." Kurt was talking again. Actually he was treating Blaine like a naughty five year old. That made him a bit annoyed. Angry actually.

Angry? Was he? He wasn't entirely sure.

"These paper towels are an odd colour, don't you think?" Kurt looked extremely confused for a second before realising exactly what Blaine was doing (what was he doing again?), a dark shadow flitting across his eyes as his forehead crinkled in frustration.

"Blaine!" There it was. His name again, and in that tone.

"We should really get back to Glee club, they're probably wondering where we've got to." He didn't really know why he was ignoring Kurt but the only thing that seemed to be keeping him grounded at the minute was the effort of ignoring everything that came out of his boyfriends mouth. He strolled towards the door throwing the screwed up paper towel at the bin. It missed.

"BLAINE!" Kurt shouted this time, the last 'e' echoing slighting across the titled walls. For a minute it made Blaine freeze, fists clenched unnaturally at his sides, but then an unknown force seemed to suddenly carry his legs as fast as he could out the boys bathroom and down the now deserted hallway to the choir room. He entered with a loud bang, the scuffle the door made alerting every person to his presence, and causing them to look oddly in his direction.

"Blaine?" That was Mr Schuster. What was it with people just repeating his name today?

"Blaine, are you ok?" Quinn this time. Her eyes were soft and caring and made him pause for a second. But the urge to tell all quickly disappeared as he noted the looks of the other members. Instead he smiled cheerfully, straightened his back and cleared his throat. Dapper, Blaine. Compose yourself.

"Fine. Great!" He added another smile hoping his acting would fool them, that they'll just leave him alone to process the past hour but their gaze's were still fixated on him as he made his way to his seat, and they didn't look convinced.

It was Kurt's entrance that finally managed to break their stares. His face conveyed his anger clearly but as he zoned in on Blaine's frozen smile he didn't say anything, instead narrowing his eyes and striding swiftly to the only seat available next to his boyfriend.

"I don't know what you're doing Anderson," he hissed harshly, simultaneously dropping his bag at his feet where it slowly toppled onto it side, "but trust me when I say we're going to talk about this later!" His supposed attempts at being quiet were not entirely successful as Finn and Rachel slowly turned to each other and raised their eyebrows, silent conversations bubbling in the air between them.

Blaine ignored them. Ignored Kurt, even though he could still feel his cold glare burning the left side of his cheek, and stared straight ahead, slowly letting his smile drop to what he hoped was a look of content and not panic. Ah. That was what that emotion was.

One thing he knew. If Kurt thought there was going to be a discussion about this later today he could think again.

The front door slammed shut, the frosted glass rattling in its mahogany case. Blaine threw his shoes off, grabbing the banister roughly as he hoisted himself up. He was tired. More tired than he had been in years. Even with finals at Dalton, even with Warbler practice on top of volunteering. Even when he had come home every day to arguments with his dad, he had never felt as exhausted as he did on this cold Monday afternoon.

"Blaine? Honey?" He sighed as his moms voice tinkled softly across the hall. He considered ignoring her, but decided against it. He knew that tone. The classic 'we need to talk to you and its not really my idea but I want to please your dad so I'm really sorry for what I'm about to say' voice. Yep, his father was most probably the one behind whatever today's conversation was about.

When he entered the living room both parents were sitting uncomfortably on the large red sofa that was positioned perfectly in the corner of the cream coloured room. He hated that. How his house looked so much like a shop showroom.

"How was school, son?" His father didn't look up . Blaine shifted self consciously, rubbing his bare feet against the carpet, drawing light patterns where it darkened when he stroked against the grain.

"Fine. Good." He didn't smile. He didn't need to. His parent wouldn't question him.

"Good. Your club go OK?" Blaine looked at him oddly, this was starting to freak him out.

"Erm, yeah, I guess, I got to sing a solo."

"That's great. Blaine, me and your mum have been talking and we think that this whole… situation is getting a bit out of hand." Blaine frowned, his hands clenching automatically.

"What?" He wasn't expecting this, whatever it was.

"We believe…" His father was stalling, talking slowly.

"Blaine we love you."

"Right?" The sudden change in direction made him uncomfortable. He knew they loved him. Maybe not as much as they could, but through everything they had been fairly good, better then he had been expecting. They had a distant relationship, but there was love in there. Detached love, but still love and he'll take whatever he got.

"And, well, we just want the best for you."

"I don't understand." He was really confused now, the tips of his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to control the nerves.

"We know you transferred from Dalton because of that boy."

"Kurt. But it was nothing to do with-"

"Let me finish." Blaine folded his arms and took a step back.

"Sorry."

"That's fine. We've always let this, well, this whole-" And suddenly Blaine realised the gist of the conversation, the dark corner into which it was heading. Again. Anger bubbled to the surface.

"Fag phase?" he spat bitterly, knowing he was overreacting, being stupid, because his father had never uttered those words in his life. But he just couldn't deal with this today. Not again, not when he thought this had all been cleared up.

"Blaine Anderson!" His father was standing now. Brow furrowed in what Blaine thought was anger, apart from his eyes didn't match the rest of his face.

"We do not use words like that in this house!"

"Ok. Sorry. Sorry, fine." He fell backwards onto the chair behind him. He really was tired. His dad remained on his feet, glancing at his wife quickly before continuing, a little less enthusiastically then before.

"Blaine…" He started again with a sigh. "This entire thing… you've transferred from a school you begged us for months to go to, that we spent thousands of pounds on, Your grades have started slipping, we hardly see you because you're on dates or having dinner at this… Kurt's house. We really hoped this would pass, Blaine, but recently… This has been going on far too long and we realise that's because we didn't stop it sooner. A good friend of mine knows someone who runs a counselling centre for people a bit like you, in the same situation and…" His father paused once more, seemingly unsure at his words. Blaine's heart quickened.

"You're saying-"

"We want you to go to counselling." Blaine jerked his head up, eyes wide.

"I'm fine. Sadie Hawkins was ages ago. I-"

"Starting Wednesday."

"I don't need to, dad. I'm over it, honestly. I'm fine." He was starting to panic. This couldn't be happening.

"It's at four so you might be a bit pushed for time with that club you attend."

"Dad?"

"But I'm sure we can work something out."

"Dad, I promise. I promise I'm fine. I even went to Kurt's prom, it was great, we danced, you remember?"

"It's an hour long session, so we'll still be at work but we'll get Cooper to pick you up."

"Dad! Dad you're not listening to me." His voice was high and squeaky. ""I don't need counselling, I…" His eyes flittered widely from one parent to another. His mom hadn't moved, her face contorted in an odd expression. He shifted forwards in his seat, sat straighter, trying to get her attention.

"Mom? Mom, what's going on? You know I don't need this. Mom?"

"Sexuality counselling honey." Her soft voice shot through the air like a bullet, hitting him forcefully in the chest and causing him to gasp softly. It shot straight though his back and continued, not deterred by the chair he was frozen in. It didn't slow, for anything, instead taking the piece it had broken from his heart away with it. Further and further and further and further away. He watched with glazed eyes as his mom slowly stood up, not looking at him, and disappeared into the kitchen, her hair whishing softly against the back of her slightly crumpled cardigan. He slumped backwards into the plush leather, glancing at his dad who was still frozen near the coffee table, staring at him with an odd expression, uncomfortably fiddling with his navy tie.

"Coopers back in town?" Blaine's voice was quiet, small. He had only just comprehended that part of the conversation.

"Yeah." His father moved closer, but stopped, unsure of how to react at his son's defeated position. "He's really looking forward to seeing you."

Blaine didn't answer, instead turning his faze to the blurring framed photograph above the mantelpiece. The one with his mother and father and Cooper, all smiling happily. The one that had been taken when Blaine had been too ill to attend. Measles, chicken pox, he couldn't quite remember. The one they hadn't bothered to replace, despite numerous re-shoots.

And who would anyway? The lighting captured everyone very well, the relaxed expression that emanated joy on their faces seemingly genuine. It was a lovely photograph. He screwed his eyes tight, trying to stop the imminent tears.

The perfect photograph. The perfect family.