Blaine honestly spent most of Santana's diatribe at their waitress watching Wes' face for his reactions. It was always amusing to see people who had never witnessed such a thing before get to see it firsthand. Blaine had had his share of moments getting used to the Latina's all-balls, take-no-prisoners, say-what-you're-thinking-and-hold-nothing-back ways, and while he still wasn't entirely used to it yet, it certainly didn't shock him anymore. In fact, while he noticed Kurt usually tended to look at her with annoyance and dread, Blaine just found her amusing as hell.
Though not quite as amusing as Wes' face currently. Poor private schooled, uniformed, gavel-wielding Wes, who didn't like it when a Warbler spoke out of turn during practice. Blaine felt like he needed to hand him an initiation card or something. He was able to flash him an understanding smile before he felt Santana's indomitable will centered back on him.
"There was no weeping, San," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and wishing there were some way he could just maybe dissolve into the ugly leather cushion and disappear. He doubted he would ever be comfortable talking about that night - he hated having to tell Kurt. And then Kurt had just started blurting things about his past in front of Finn and Burt and--
Blaine took a breath, and looked over at Santana. He didn't really need to include Wes in this conversation since he was already rather familiar with it all. Honestly, he didn't want to share this with Santana at all. Not that he didn't trust telling her -- he did -- but the last thing you really want to tell someone who just came out is your own story about coming out.
One that doesn't end well.
"When I came out my freshman year at my old school, I decided it would be rather forward thinking of myself to invite the only other gay guy at my school to the Sadie Hawkins dance." He had the explanation memorized. Blaine never really gave details to anyone. Most of the Warblers knew because they'd been there for the aftermath. "When we were waiting for his dad to pick us up in the parking lot, these three guys jumped us and beat the shit out of us." He shrugged, dropping his gaze to the Formica table, wondering again why it wasn't possible to just melt into the cushion somehow.