I don't own Glee. If I did, it would play on TV in a 24-hour loop of new episodes.

Readjustment

"Yes. Puck is the father."

Finn couldn't put any effort into making an expression. The baby wasn't his, that little girl who had been so slowly forming into being. He had grown to love the little girl, his girl, worrying about her future and if he would be a good enough father. He had sobbed into his mother's lap over her and sung to that tiny, grainy ultrasound image for her. He couldn't remember ever loving anything as much as he had loved that little… was it a fetus or an embryo? He had slept through that particular biology lesson, up late the night before trying to wrap his brain around the idea of a little person he had made exist. But she wasn't his.

The cruelest part was that he had finally started to accept it, had already started to do things like plan responses to the way-in-the-future question of did he have any kids? The blinding terror had receded a bit to the point where it was only searing panic. He had let himself start to picture picking her up from soccer games and threatening her boyfriends– no matter what Quinn had said, he wanted to be part of his daughter's life– and instead of scaring the hell out of him, there was a not-so-small part of him that was downright joyful.

A sound skittered out of his throat as he remembered that scene he had played in his head so many times of the three of them singing and coming up with incompetent dance routines together, laughing and happy. He forced his eyes to meet Quinn. There was no laughter, no happiness, only wet eyes full of tears that were falling down onto her sweater. Finn vaguely realized how ironic it was that she was wearing white; he remembered his English teacher once mentioning it represented virginity.

"So, all that stuff in the hot tub…" But then he realized that it wasn't possible, of course it hadn't been possible. He really should stay awake in biology. "You just made that up?"

Finn barely had time to process her look of confirmation before a voice from behind Quinn shouted out.

"You were stupid enough to buy it!"

His eyes landed on his best friend. No, former best friend. Ex-best friend who slept with his ex-girlfriend to father his ex-daughter. How ironic was it that when his world was ripped apart, it took away the one person who was supposed to be on his side of the tear? How long had they been together behind his back? When he had walked in on them in the kitchen covered in flour and standing way too close… had they really only been baking, as Quinn had told him? Or had they been… Had they ever not been? Had it at least waited to start until after Finn and Quinn's first date?

His body lunged forward without his telling it to, but with his full approval. He wanted to see that Mohawk blood red.

"Hey, hey, hey hey." Mr. Schuester's hands slammed against Finn's chest, pushing him backwards. Oh right, other people. He had forgotten about that.

"I am so sorry." Quinn moved closer to him, not even trying to conceal her sobs.

Normally that would have softened his heart, but how many times had she cried in front of him in the past few months? How many times had she made him feel guilty for getting her pregnant, for making her lose her family, her body, her Cheerios, her social standing, her friends? All while it had never been his fault, only hers. Hers and Puck's.

"Screw this."

He flinched away from Quinn, backing away as far as his unsteady legs were able to. She had lied to him, slept with his best friend and made him love someone who hadn't been his to love. She had made him feel absolutely horrible for not helping her enough, and for what?

"I'm done with you!" He took grim pleasure in her broken sob.

But she hadn't been the only liar. The way everyone else in Glee Club had immediately understood what was going on meant they must have already known, but hadn't told him. He had been there first, way before Puck or Quinn. Artie, Kurt, Tina, Mercedes… they were his friends and they hadn't told him.

And the one person who had... He didn't think he'd ever be able to erase the image from his mind of Rachel's face right before she had told him. Like she had known she was relieving him of some horrible burden he secretly enjoyed, known she was helping and hurting at the same time. He'd never be able to look at her again without seeing that look and being absolutely terrified that whatever she would say next would completely destroy the life he thought he had.

"I'm done with… I'm done with all of you!"

As he turned to storm out, he realized he didn't know where to go. He couldn't go rant to Quinn or Puck obviously. He couldn't go to the Mr. Schuester he was currently walking away from. He couldn't go to Rachel and ask for comfort. He couldn't go to the choir room and just be comforted by the mere presence of his friends because they clearly weren't really his friends. He had to find new places to go when he was angry. He had to readjust his habits.

Kicking the chair didn't really make him feel better, but at least it was a hell of an exit.