Prologue: Looking Up

Finn wandered into the main room, and went over to the TV area. The boy named Michael who Paige had said smelled like feet was still sitting there, staring at the screen. It didn't look as though he'd moved at all. Someone was lying upside down on the other side of the couch, their feet slung over the back and their head on the cushion.

"What are you doing?" Finn asked. Paige looked up when he spoke and smiled, rolling herself off the couch.

"Watching the TV upside makes it less easy to tell how much it sucks." She explained. He nodded as though that made any sense.

"You weren't at breakfast this morning. I looked for you." He said.

"I eat breakfast a bit later cuz I feel nauseous in the morning. So first thing, I have my therapy appointment, and then I go eat oatmeal."

"The oatmeal looked lumpy." He muttered.

Paige shrugged. "I like the lumps." She teetered back and forth on the balls of her feet, and he wondered if it was physically possible for her to stay still. "So how do you like it here?" She asked.

"I dunno...I'm still figuring things out." He wanted to fiddle with something while he spoke, but his fingers were still too numb, so instead he just wiggled them a little at his sides. "Sheila wasn't very helpful. So far I've figured out what checks are, that's pretty obvious, but she said I was on level one and I don't know what that means, or why everyone else gets clothes but me. And why do only some people get knives?"

"Oh, everyone here has a level based on how crazy they think you are," Paige explained. "It decides everything, from how often your checks are, to your everyday privileges like being able to eat with a knife. They're are four levels, everyone starts out one, duh, and you can work your way up. Only level fours get knives." She smiled widely, obliviously loving being the knowledgeable one. "And no one gets clothes when they first come. Clothes are a privilege. You earn them by having your first successful meeting your therapist."

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"When people come here they're usually really resentful, and they don't wanna talk to anyone. So they just sit there and brood. So they said 'fine, you can sit there and brood for as a long as you want but you're not getting your clothes until you open up a little'." She said, furrowing her brow and putting on a deep voice. "It's pretty simple, you can get your clothes today if you want, you just gotta talk about your feelings. Some people don't get their clothes for a month though. They're what I call long-haulers. Come on I'll show you around." She beamed.

Finn nodded. He was a little afraid of Paige, she had a manic unfocused energy about her that freaked him out a little, but he was curious to learn how things worked here, so he let her drag him into the next room.

"As you already know, this is where we eat food." She said, gesturing around the dining room. "It's very simple; 3 meals 3 times a day, but this room is always open and they have snacks out." The table had bags of chips, fruit and cookies on it and a blond haired boy was sitting at the end of it, cutting up a cookie and placing it neatly on his plate. Finn recognized him from the group therapy.

"That's George. He has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Everything needs to be in 13s for him." She said. "When he's having a really bad time, he says everything 13 times so don't talk to him when he looks twitchier than usual. He's nice, but he smells like too much soap." Finn nodded, and she walked back out of the room.

"Ok, so over there watching TV is Michael. He has Intermittent Explosive Disorder."

"That's what I have." He blurted. Paige nodded.

"Yeah but yours is probably more sexual. Michael likes to destroy things. When he gets mad he throws chairs and topples things and stuff. If you sit too close to him, he might pinch you. As was previously mentioned, he smells like feet."

"I didn't smell feet." Finn said. "It was more like a gross burp smell."

Paige shook her head. "No way. Put on some woolly socks, run 3 miles, take off your shoes and socks and smell your feet. You will be smelling the pungent odor of Michael." She insisted.

"Ok…

"Now over there, that's Lina. She's sort of like our Daisy, minus the chicken." She continued, pointing to a very pretty brown haired girl reading in a corner. She turned to him with a very serious look on her face. "Stay away from her, ok?"

"Ok...why?"

"Her uncle raped her repeatedly when she was 13, and now she's a has OCD as well. It's different from George, instead of obsessing about cleaning or 13's, she obsesses about sex and engages in it in a compulsive fashion. Don't sit near her, don't look at her and do not talk to her. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." He mumbled. She poked him in the rib cage.

"I'm serious Finn." She warned.

"Ok, I'll stay away from her." He said, holding his hands up. In a second, the huge smile was back on her face.

"Hey look at that!" She said, and poked his hand. "You're holding 'em up straight. That's great!" Then she skipped across the room, gesturing for him to follow. She showed him around, telling him about the orderlies and other patients, and explaining their systems.

"At level one you gotta have some watch you shower, but don't worry they give you a bathing suit if you want it, and you can pick if you want a male or female orderly." She explained.

"How do you move up a level?" He asked.

"Being good, going to group therapy and talking, talking to your therapist, getting a long with the other patients, not freaking out and trying to kill anyone. I'm level two, and I got 15 minute checks." She said proudly.

"What do you do in therapy?"

"Mostly you talk about whatever you did, how you felt when you did it, why you did it, how you feel in general." She bobbed her head as she spoke, as though agreeing with what she was saying.

"How's that different from group?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Most people like the one on one, and your therapist gives you more actual advice. Group is mostly just to simulate the social experience. You go and talk with the other peoples...the general idea is that talking about it will help you get better."

"I can't get better..." He mumbled, and sat down at one of the tables.

"Sure you can. You'll talk about why you raped your brother and they'll figure out how you can not do it again." She said cheerfully.

He thought about trying to explain why he'd done it to someone. He could talk about the fog...but the fog didn't make him do it, it just let him. He couldn't explain why he'd done it.

He noticed Paige was still babbling about...something, and every now and then he caught the words "rape" and "brother" and he decided he should probably tell her the truth.

"He was my step-brother, actually."

"See, there you go!" Paige cheered. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. "A minute ago you had raped your brother, and now it's only your step-brother. You're improving already!"

He wondered what a strange world Paige's mind must be.

Kurt held himself down under the water in his bath tub, and opened his eyes under water. He stared up at the ceiling of the bathroom, enjoying how slow and distorted everything looked from down there. He held his breath for as long as possible, then allowed himself to float up, breaking the surface with a deep breath.

He lay back against the tile, thinking about his week.

There was the incident in Finn's room, and he knew that wasn't good, but he'd been able to keep himself from a repeat performance. He didn't know for how much longer he could though; the needing desire was already beginning to seep back into his chest.

His Dad had gotten in touch with a new therapist for him, one dealing with sexual disorders and he was going to see her on Monday.

It was after school on Friday now, and Blaine was coming over again. He wondered if Blaine considered what they were doing dating. Usually they would watch a movie, kiss a little, and find something in the house to eat. He knew Blaine wanted to go out, but for some reason, life just seemed more exhausting outside.

After his bath he got dressed, throwing on some skinny jeans and a sweater. Because his closet was made up almost entirely of brand name and designer items, he could basically pick anything and no one would be able to tell that he hardly cared anymore. It wasn't that he didn't want to look good, he did and especially for Blaine...but fashion just didn't hold that same appeal for him anymore.

He tried to remember that excited giddy feeling he used to have whenever he picked out an outfit and then accessorized, but it was nothing more than a distant memory now.

Now he had more important things on his mind.

He went downstairs and found Carole and his Dad sitting on the couch, holding each other. Carole had fallen asleep in his Dads arms, and his Dad was absently stroking her hair. He felt like crying when he saw them like that, out of pure relief.

He had been sure that when they found out, that would be it for them. But they still loved each other, and he knew his Dad was trying his damnedest not to blame Carole for Finn's actions.

He went over to his father, and poked him. His Dad turned and smiled. "Hey, is Blaine coming over?" Kurt nodded.

"Are you two..." Burt began. Kurt shrugged.

"I don't know...we haven't discussed an official thing yet." He didn't want to jinx it by saying he hoped they would discuss it tonight. After everything Blaine had said and done recently, he didn't think he could handle anymore ambiguity.

The door bell rang just then, and Carole shot up with a start. Kurt guess that despite how peaceful she seemed while she was asleep, her dreams had been less than pleasant.

Kurt opened the door and smiled. Blaine was dressed in his regular clothes and he looked like he'd used half the usual amount of hair gel.

"Well, don't we look nice." He said, and Blaine smiled and came inside.

"Yeah, I think I heard my hair gel actually breathe a sigh of relief when I got dressed." He joked.

Kurt took him by the hand and began to lead him upstairs, but stopped when his Dad made a loud "AHEM" noise.

"We're just going to watch a movie..." He said quietly. Blaine nodded earnestly.

His Dad sighed. "The door stays open the whole time and I reserve the right to come in and check you at any time and without notice, got it?"

They nodded and ran upstairs.

"Your Dad kind of freaks me out." Blaine said, running his hands through his hair. "So what movie are we going to watch?"

"Movie?" Kurt said, hoping he sounded coy. He walked towards him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Blaine smiled and kissed him. "I actually sort of wanted to talk to you about something..." He murmured.

"Yeah, what?" He asked, tilting his head inquisitively. Please want to have sex with me, please want to have sex with me...

"Well...uh...sit down." He said. Kurt sat down on the edge of his bed. "Ok..well, I've been thinking about this for a while and I mean, I don't want to freak you out, and I mean if its not ok then we can just forget it..." He said, and he took a seat next to Kurt. "You've probably seen this coming, I mean we've been hanging out a lot and what with me telling you I loved you..." He smiled nervously. Kurt had to admit, he kind of liked see Blaine so nervous. He was usually so composed. It was a nice change. "?"

"Excuse me?" He asked.

Blaine closed his eyes and he took a deep breath. "Kurt, I care about you a lot. More than is probably healthy. And I've been putting off doing this because I didn't want to overwhelm you but...I want to date you."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" Kurt asked. He knew drawing this out was mean but it was fun too.

"Yes, we are but...I want something official. Something where I can say 'This my boyfriend, Kurt Hummel' and 'No I'm sorry, I'm busy Friday night because I have a date with my boyfriend.' And I don't know, that might seem silly to you but...it's important to me." He said quietly.

"Ok." Kurt said, taking Blaine's hand.

"Really?" Blaine asked. "I mean. Good. Yes."

"So...can we be kissing now?" Kurt asked. Blaine smiled and kissed him, opening his mouth wide and slipping his tongue into his mouth.

Finally...