Cooper Anderson has always wanted a younger sibling. Every evening when he was reminded to say his prayers before bedtime, he'd pray for his mother and father to have another child.

Cooper is eight when his mom and dad tell him that his prayers were answered. For the next few months, his evening prayers are devoted to hoping that it's a brother.

He's exactly nine years and six months older to the day than his new baby brother. When he's sat down to hold the newborn, he's momentarily terrified he'll drop the little boy. But the moment Cooper is handed him, entertained by the short curls peaking out from underneath the little blue hat, he is absolutely enamored with his brother.

A ten year age gap would seem like it would make it hard for the two brothers to get along, but it's actually quite the opposite. Parents ever busy, Cooper's the one to watch Blaine take his first awkward toddling steps across the top of his own bed one afternoon. At the age of thirteen, he spends his spare weekly allowance on a miniature football so he could start teaching Blaine the importance of a man knowing how to play a sport. When Cooper gets his license at the age of sixteen, the first thing he wants to do is take his little brother for ice cream- even though it's February.

At eighteen, Cooper gets accepted to UC Berkeley, and how could he refuse? Blaine throws himself into his brother's arms, overjoyed for his big brother. But the closer they get to Cooper's move out date, Blaine admits that he'll miss his brother. Cooper can't do much except promise to call as often as possible, and say he'll be home for Christmas and summer vacation. He doesn't exactly want to leave the eight-year-old; Blaine's tiny for his age, and just a little too smart for his own good, details not lost on the older kids at school that like to pick on the younger children. There had been plenty of times when Blaine has tottered off the school bus at the end of the day, his cloths dusty and torn from being pushed around at recess. Despite Blaine's protests, Cooper would always sit him up on the kitchen counter, pull out the first aid kit and bandage the scrapes on Blaine's knees and palms. The fact that their mother would probably never do this for her youngest child pulled at Cooper's heart.

As much as he wants to, college is busy and difficult for Cooper. He calls Blaine as often as possible, but their conversations have become few and far between. The summer between his freshman and sophomore year, Cooper works full-time and Blaine goes to soccer sleep away camp. But the time they do have free is spent together. Cooper doesn't want to admit it, but he really likes when Blaine has his ridiculous group of friends come over and they want to hang out with "Blaine's awesome older brother". Let it never be said that he doesn't like kids.

For the next three years, their relationship happens in short bursts: a couple of months here and there with the occasional week of a vacation. Every time he sees his brother, Cooper can't help but lament that he's missing so much of his brother growing up.

At twenty-two, fresh out of college, Cooper makes his big move to New York City for a new job offer. Blaine's excited, and plans "super awesome trips to the city to visit his big brother" that Cooper is all too willing to entertain. Blaine's first cell phone means that Cooper has to switch to an unlimited texting plan to accommodate his brother. He's not going to complain though; if he can't see his brother all the time, he's absolutely willing to dole out some extra money a month to make sure his brother's alright. Their parents have taken to working longer hours, and there are often times that Blaine comes home after school to an empty house.

When Blaine turns fourteen, Cooper calls his brother to explain that he won't be home for Christmas this year, but he'll be there for Thanksgiving, and was that okay? On Wednesday night over dinner, Cooper teases Blaine and asks if there are any cute girls in his class. Blaine turns beat red and locks his eyes on his peas and carrots. It isn't until Saturday night, long after their parents have gone to sleep, that Blaine interrupts their movie to admit that he's gay, and no, their parents don't know yet. Cooper's silent for a moment, completely blind-sided. Blaine squirms in the silence, and starts to stutter an explanation or an apology or something else that Cooper can't quite pick up on. He sits up and shuffles across the couch, pulling Blaine into a bone-crushing hug. Cooper says he doesn't care: Blaine is still his baby brother, no matter who he loves.

A rare telephone call from his mother comes two months later and she mentioned in passing that Blaine had landed himself in the hospital. Cooper calls his brother next, the bottom dropping out of his stomach when Blaine tells him what happened. By the end of the phone call, Cooper's flight home is booked for the next day. All he can do is sit on the side of Blaine's bed and hold his baby brother in his arms as his sobs soak the material of Cooper's shirt.

That summer, their father tries to build a car with Blaine. Cooper sees through his father's motives immediately. Blaine mentions in passing that he's still having problems at school. Cooper does some research and sends him a link to a few schools in Ohio that Blaine may want to consider.

At twenty-five, Cooper makes it home for Christmas. He's blown away by his little brother: three months at Dalton has changed him completely. He's chopped his curly hair and slicks it back; gone are Blaine's baggy jeans and graphic tees and overly bubbly personality. The boy that greets Cooper at the door dresses everyday in nice pants and button down shirts; instead of wanting to talk about the Buckeyes and comic books, Blaine wants to discuss world economics and the firm Cooper works for. He's a little unsettled at first by this new gentleman in his brother's body, but Blaine's puppy-like personality always has a way of leaking out around Cooper.

Three days after Christmas, they go out for a drive together, thinking of maybe going to the mall or grabbing a bite to eat. Cooper sits in the passenger seat, letting newly-licensed Blaine show off, starts to discuss Dalton. It's good, Blaine tells him; he's joined the show choir and classes are harder, but nothing too difficult. Copper asks if Blaine has been looking into colleges yet. Blaine worries his lip between his teeth and replies that he hadn't yet. Cooper tells him not to worry: he hadn't taking his college tests until late junior year and maybe they could look at colleges together this summer. Had Blaine considered New York at all? Or would he head out west like Cooper? What was he even considering going into?

Cooper hadn't noticed until then that Blaine was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white, nor that his eyes were beginning to brim with tears. Brow furrowed, Cooper asks what's wrong. Blaine pulls off to the side of the road, trying to collect himself. Coop places a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder, and that's when the dam breaks.

Blaine had never admitted it and their parents were to embarrassed to inform their eldest son, but he had essentially failed his freshman year. Yes, they had grown apart a bit in the past few years, but they were always honest with each other. Cooper was completely shocked. His brother, though Blaine would never admit to it, was easily at the top of his class and always had been. Learning always just came naturally to Blaine while Cooper always had to put a ridiculous amount of effort into school.

He didn't want to ask, but he had to know: why had Blaine been left back? He sort of wish he hadn't asked. Blaine had informed Cooper last year that after his hospital stay, school had been difficult socially. That's all Blaine had said. But now, here in the safety of his car, Blaine spilled everything.

When he got back from winter break, still on crutches and bruises only just starting to fade, the other kids had been ruthless. Being on crutches just made it easier for his classmates to push him around and call him filthy names. Blaine had approached the faculty for help, but they said there was simply nothing they could do without proof.

What made it even worse was how quickly Blaine's friends had dropped him when he came out. If memory served him right, Blaine had been friends with the same group of guys since elementary school. Just like that, they abandoned him.

So Blaine was left to deal with it all on his own. He had gone from the school enigma, the boy that literally everyone knew and liked, to the outcast. He was lonely and depressed, unmotivated to do anything at the school where he was the social leaper. He let his grades plummet.

And their parents. Their parents. They had done nothing to help Blaine. They didn't even notice anything was wrong until they were both called into school to discuss Blaine's grades. The guidance councilor had barely gotten through her prepared statement before their mother and father had turned on Blaine. Their parents only agreed to sending him to Dalton after learning that the name of the school looked wonderful enough on college resumes to make up for the past year. And just like that, Blaine's fourteenth year was stricken from their memory completely.

All of this was said through hitching sobs, Blaine hugging his arms and curling into himself pitifully.

Awkwardly, Cooper leaned over the center console, and pulled Blaine into a one-and–half armed hug. Blaine practically buried his face into his brother's chest and cried.

He had no idea how long they sat like that, but if the twinge in his side indicated anything, it had been a while. It didn't matter though: Cooper would let his brother have this moment right now, simply because there was no one else that would do this for Blaine. He sat there, wedged between the two front seats, just holding Blaine and rocking slightly back and forth. He thought of all of the times that they had been in this position before. The number unsettled Cooper. He didn't want to think about how the future might bring them right back to this same position. Life was truly unfair.

"It's okay," Cooper whispered, his lips against the crown of Blaine's head. "Big brother's here."

Cooper isn't able to make it home much after that. Work picks up, he meets a nice girl, and New York City is just pulling him in a few too many directions at once to go back to Ohio. Blaine's able to come out to visit once for a long weekend when he's seventeen, but they're so wrapped up in playing tourist, they're hardly anytime for a deep and meaningful conversation between brothers.

But the following year, Cooper's able to push a few dates around and visit Ohio in late winter- he wants to inform his family of his plans to marry his girlfriend. Right away though, he notices there's something different about Blaine. He's still like a gentleman straight out of an old Hollywood movie, but he just seems happier. Happier than he's been in a long time. He laughs much easier, he's on his phone all day texting, and he just carries himself differently. It isn't until two days into his trip, when Blaine comes down in the evening dressed impeccably, that Cooper decides to call Blaine out on this change.

He blushes and murmurs something unintelligible. Cooper thinks he hears the word "date" in there somewhere. He's never seen his brother this flustered, but it seems to be a nice change. Blaine uncharacteristically leaves the room and dashes back upstairs.

The doorbell rings shortly thereafter. Cooper answers it, finding a surprised looking young man on the stoop asking for Blaine. His little brother storms down the stairs and greets the young man. Blaine takes in the confused looks plastered on the other's faces and introduces them.

Blaine has a boyfriend. And they've been together for a year.

Cooper watches as Blaine takes Kurt's hand as they run out the door, late for their reservation. Feeling a little creepy, he watches them from the bay window in the living room. Right before they part to get into the car, they kiss quickly by the light of the driveway light.

Cooper can't help but smile for his baby brother.