A/N: Another chapter, although shorter. Previous warnings still apply. I would love reviews and feedback if you have anything to say. Thank you for reading!
Kurt hated hospitals.
The walls were always sickly and brilliantly white. Everything felt sterile and still. Everyone walked around as if they were walking through a graveyard, rather than a place with living, breathing people.
The fact that he was facing a cop through a strangely shaped window didn't help.
It was surreal to sit there in the ugly blue scrubs they had given him, his clothes locked away in a closet to his right. The room was small, smaller than the average bathroom, filled with a couch from a few decades ago and a matching armchair across from it. The door was open letting in the noises of the hospital that flitted down the nearly abandoned hallway of the building.
The police officer did everything he could to avoid Kurt's eye, staring at the floor to the ceiling to the wall beside him.
He couldn't decide what was worse, having the little woman talk to him about his feelings or just being watched by a police officer.
Yet again, speaking to the woman had been like a breath of fresh air after swimming for hours. She had asked a million questions, but answering them honestly was an incredible feeling.
She was a tiny, middle aged brunette with a name he couldn't recall. Her sweater was anything but stylish, although comforting to see. She had a soft spoken tone and open ear, leaning over her own pad of paper to listen to every word that tumbled from his mouth.
Now he stared at the seams of the stiff hospital pants, waiting for her or his Dad to come back before the awkward tension caused by the police officer caused air molecules to combust.
"Kurt?"
He hadn't noticed them reentering the room.
The woman spoke hesitantly, "I've talked to your dad, and I've come to the decision that three to five days in a crisis unit would be the best place for you right now." She surveyed Kurt's reaction and continued," Of course, it's just a recommendation. I think it could really help you out. The staff can aid you in overcoming a lot. If you say yes... I can call a few close by units and you could be there tonight."
The silence was deafening.
"Kurt…" Burt began after a moment.
"I'll go."
The adults stared at him.
"You're sure?" The woman asked, shocked.
Kurt nodded shakily.
"Okay then…" She looked at the clipboard in her hands. "I'll call around to find an open bed and come back as soon as I get some news. They might have to change your room in the meantime. The nursing staff will be around to check on you two."
Burt smiled weakly, "Thank you."
She nodded curtly and turned on her heel.
Kurt looked down at his clasped hands in his lap. After a moment he let out a dry sob. Burt wrapped his arms around his son carefully, holding back his own tears as Kurt sniffled into his shoulder.
Eventually, a nurse moved them to a spare room down the hall. Kurt sat stiffly on the edge of the lumpy emergency room bed. The curtain was pulled around, blocked the view of the door as an illusion of privacy, although he had overheard the staff telling his father not to leave Kurt by himself.
His eyes avoided the clock and stared blankly through the television.
Brut had pulled a chair to his bedside. After a while, he had began to pace the edge of the room, talking in hushed tones to Carole on the hospital room phone.
Every so often, Kurt would break into silent tears.
Kurt Hummel was afraid. He was afraid of leaving his home. He was afraid of the crisis unit. He was afraid of how he felt, of getting help, of the future.
But mostly, Kurt Hummel was afraid of himself.
The scariest thing someone can face is self hatred. It is a fire that burns someone from the inside out, simultaneously freezing your heart, cutting a hole in your chest. It's an emptiness, but a fullness. Empty of fondness, but full of loathing. It is almost as if you'd do anything, even rip your skin off bit by bit, to be out of your body.
Some small part of his brain told him this was for the best. Getting help was the best. Yet he couldn't help but feel hopeless, as if help… couldn't help.
At some point, the woman whose name Kurt couldn't remember returned, clutching her clipboard to her chest.
" ? Kurt?" She said softly to catch their attention. "We found an adolescent unit for you to stay at, but it is further away than I hoped. It is an hour from here, probably an hour and a half from your house. We'll have an ambulance pick you up as soon as they can…"
"An ambulance?" Kurt shouted. "Why can't I just be driven over?"
"It's part of the hospital policy. Ours and theirs. I know you'd prefer not to arrive by emergency vehicle, but they require it."
Burt crossed his arms. "Are you okay with that Kurt?"
He wrapped his arms around himself shakily. "If it's the only way…"
"Alright," the woman smiled. "I'm not sure how long it will take for an ambulance to get here, but it should be soon enough. You can have your wife meet you at the unit with some of Kurt's things."
"Thank you for helping us," Burt nodded as the woman left the room.
Kurt squeezed his arms more tightly around himself.
"This is really happening."
It was barely more than a whisper. It felt as if the words didn't even come from his own mouth, but some other meek, minuscule entity in the room. Regardless, he let the tears fall down his face as Burt hugged him to his chest once again. His arms felt like the only thing that was real in the world.