And so it is, the antepenultimate chapter. .o. Right? Right? Well, I'll admit, I don't like this chapter much. It's a lot of dark feeling and sad things, but this should be a CHEERY OCCASION. Ffff!

But. I have little to say here. Read these words of which things are written and whatnot.

(Oh, by the way guys, 100 reviews? Not ONE of them 'negative'? Do you KNOW what that does to me? DO YOU. c8 )

-Float-float-float-Rhapshody.

(Hopefully this isn't the chapter where everything goes to poop. .n.)

Days passed. Hours melded, and before long it had been a week since the incident. This had no real significance, really, save for the fact that in a week's time, things had smoothed out, contorted, and life became that regulatory shade of gray known as 'Normal.' For Finn, who was once again trying to achieve the emotional stability of a regular human being, he couldn't have wished for more.

As there was little he could do about his living situation, Finn skillfully and almost wordlessly migrated upstairs into the living room, where he spent the majority of his time. He became a near-stranger to Kurt in the house, only really speaking to him when they crossed paths for dinner or going to school. Finn knew he wasn't helping Kurt, giving him the cold shoulder and all, but he was also on a mission to strike Kurt from his mind. He'd thought he'd gone through some emotional trauma with babygate, but that was nothing in comparison to this.

He wasn't shutting Kurt out of his life because he was mad, no, he just didn't want to go back to where they'd been.

Could it have been done with a little more poise than completely locking him out of his life like he was some sort of contagious disease? Probably. But Finn didn't want to risk it. He had been that close to crossing the line, to go from more than friends into uncharted territory. It scared the crap out of Finn and he was no longer going to try it. He'd dipped his toe in. The water was laced with sharks.

At school, though, things were easier. Since speaking with Quinn, Finn had slowly but surely inched away from his position as a secondary pariah with Rachel, and had started to move back in with his old crowd. Those that would still have him, of course. This mostly included his fellow Glee students, those that didn't travel in Kurt's pack. He still got a glare or two from Mercedes or Tina at least once a day, but he shrugged it off. Yes, they'd broken up. Surely, the sun would rise again without their awkward closed mouth kisses. If Finn was so willing to forget the little affair, why wasn't everyone else?

But it didn't matter to him. He was back in his comfort zone. He and Quinn were nowhere as close as they'd once been, but between her, Santana, Brittany, Matt, Mike, and a halfhearted peace treaty with Puck, he had a fair amount of what he could consider 'friends'. Things with the other half of Glee became less important after that.

He should have been ready, though, for the question and answer round that came with such a group of people. Moreover, one specifically.

"So dude," Puck said one day as the two walked down the hallways of William McKinley on their way out of the building, "Way to disappear off the face of the planet. Ever since you and the gay kid started hanging out…"

Finn tried not to flinch. Inside, his blood turned to ice. He wasn't sure when Puck had accepted him as a human being again, probably before he'd let himself notice, but nowadays he was usually around Puck for a good half of his day. The two had found a lukewarm area between their squabbles to call friendship, and Finn had decided it was the safest he could get. If Puck was with him, he was respected. He was also guaranteed Kurt-a-way.

Finn shook his head.

"Stupid. I know."

"What was with that, anyway? You two going out?"

Finn tried to drum up something that resembled a smile.

"Ha, funny. Our parents are going out. I didn't have a choice."

"Phff. Sure. I've had to keep tiptoeing around him now, using most of my raw Puck Force One power on nerds. God forbid I do something to your golden boy."

Finn's hands formed fists. He jammed them into his pockets.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Puck said, either oblivious to Finn's terror or so absorbed in his memories of nerd beatings he didn't notice the fact that Finn's eyes were dark with rage. "That besides the occasional dumpster toss or Slushie to the face, I haven't been able to beat on him in forever. If I do, sure enough, there you are acting like some kind of...angry goose mom. All defensive."

"I've never done that." His voice was dark. He had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a stream of compressed anger.

"Please, Finn. If I even give the guy a shove, you're there staring at me like I'm some kind of maniac. I figured you were just trying to like, impress some chick with your manly, like, niceness, but since you two have moved in together…"

Finn was ready to burst.

"It's nothing, okay? His dad's a beast, and if Kurt was walking around like some sort of punching bag, if his dad ever saw like, half a bruise he'd sue your ass for a hate crime. You like being able to leave your house, right?"

"Bro, Chill." Puck said, giving Finn a look. "It's not like I'm gonna kill the kid. It just feels wrong, seeing him being able to walk down the halls without a care in the world. He should be like the rest of them. Scared, ready for the next attack."

'He's not my responsibility anymore. He never was. He thinks he's so strong, let him deal with Puck on his own.'

"You know what, I don't even care. I just don't want his dad to break your jaw. He bruises easy."

There was no missing the feral glint in Puck's eyes as Finn basically gave him the all-clear. It sent cold shivers down his spine, and Finn almost wished he had the chance to retract the statement. His knuckles were white as he shook his head.

He's not mine to protect. He doesn't need me. I don't want to help him. That was nothing.

He swallowed the last word that slid into his mind as he got in his car.

Liar.

xXx

Finn had to admit, he was mildly surprised at the way Kurt managed to avoid him. He'd assumed at first that there would be squabbles, fights, attempts to pick up whatever they'd had. But pretty much as Finn announced it was over, Kurt agreed. There were no late night conversations, passing comments, and Finn literally hadn't made physical contact with Kurt for at least a week, maybe two. He assumed it would make it easier, the breaking up thing, but it soon began to get on his nerves. Where was the Kurt who would hire a skywriter to get his attention? Finn didn't really know, seeing as he was trying to make Kurt's existence void and all, but he couldn't help but begin to worry. Whenever he did run into Kurt he would check, looking to see if he looked any more tired or stressed than usual, but it was always the same. Kurt was as pristine as ever. It was only when Finn would meet his eyes and see their cold, careless, dull stare when the shivers would prick his spine.

One of the times, he forced himself to talk. The words were bitter in his mouth.

"Kurt," He said one day as Kurt rummaged through the kitchen. As Finn walked in, Kurt was pouring a glass of water. His movements were sharp and precise, and as Finn walked in there was no missing the slight tensing, almost a flinch, before returning to normal. Finn ran his tongue over his teeth.

"Uhm, Kurt. So,uh, no hard feelings, right?"

He would not get in a long conversation. There would be no screaming, no yelling, no crying. He prepared for some sort of emotional outburst. Looking at Kurt, who was gripping the water like he'd die if he didn't, Finn braced himself for the explosion.

"Yeah." Kurt's voice was dry, flat. "No hard feelings." And then he walked out.

Finn didn't know why the answer made him feel like the scum of the earth, but it did. And there was no way to fix it. Finn could think of a dozen ways to apologize, to try and make things better, to try and make Kurt happy, but paranoia plagued him. He worried that if he made the apology too melancholy, like the no hard feelings talk, then absolutely nothing would be accomplished. And if that happened he couldn't go around making little apologies all the time, just hoping once to see Kurt smile or to see light in his eyes. Beating the dead horse would get little accomplished.

At the same time, there was no way in hell he was going to put on a show. Every time he thought back to the 'Love Me Dead' performance, and he tried not to as much as possible, it made his stomach turn. How he had been so sappy, how he'd used the word love. It all felt wrong to him now, and he knew there was no song out there that said 'Sorry I ripped you to shreds and hung you out to dry, you jerk for making me feel things like that, don't act like the walking dead and smile, dammit.'

The emptiness between the boys didn't stop at school. At home, at those inopportune times when family forced them to be together, the silences were long and cold. Finn never met Kurt's eyes, and Kurt made no attempt to act like he cared. They didn't do it subtly or with any tact, and even walking into the room when the family was there-Finn, Kurt, Carol, and Burt- was like walking into a room with only a wet cat and an aggressive dog, side by side, but unable to move. They tried so hard to ignore the tension.

Only this time, for Finn nor Kurt, there was no bliss in their ignorance.

It was on Thursday, after glee was wrapping up and everyone prepared to head home, when everything Finn had ever believed, loved, fought for, or wanted was dismantled and soon after fell apart in front of him.

It was when that post-glee high was fading and everyone was calming down. There was a month until regionals and New Directions was good to go. Even with the drama between Finn and Kurt, the club was working harder than ever on dance routines to roundhouse kick Vocal Adrenaline out of the theater. Slowly but surely, the club was becoming more and more confident in their ability to move. With a Killer solo by Mercedes, Puck in the spotlight of another song, and a third number hard in the works, it was foolish to assume the club was headed anywhere but up.

Finn was just grabbing his backpack and heading for the door when Brittany found him. Finn liked Brittany. Not as a potential girlfriend –he usually required his partners to have an Iq higher than that of a balloon- but she was simple and didn't ask too many questions. Finn hardly noticed as she kept pace with him and was only half paying attention as she finished her sentence.

"…those bruises."

"Hm?" He asked, turning to her. He pulled a headphone out of his ear.

"I said, you should tell Kurt to put ice on his bruises."

"Bruises?"

"Yeah. I got one on my chest when I fell out of bed one morning, but I put ice on it and it went down before I went out with Adam Fervera. It was way better by that night."

Finn paused, taking a moment to process the information. Not pausing to ask how one falls out of bed in the morning, he rewound the conversation in his head, stopping a second later.

"Wait, what bruises on Kurt?"

"The ones on his arm and all over his back." Her voice was simple and void of emotion.

"...When did you see Kurt's back?"

"Cheerio practice. Like, every day for a week when we do our third routine and he has to do the tuck and roll thing, You can see then when he bends town or his shirt comes over his shoulders." Brittany paused, and Finn swore he could see a spark of intelligence break through her eyes before fading back into oblivion.

"I thought it was nothing…Is he okay?"

Finn tried not to roll his eyes. Only Brittany.

"Uh," He managed, trying to quell the panic rising up in him. "N-no, it's uh, it's okay. I'll tell him about the ice. Thanks, Brittany."

Brittany, rapidly deteriorating back to the mindless elf she was at every other time of the day, nodded cheerfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Finn wished he had something shiny, just to see what would happen when he threw it. But this was not the time. His mind began racing as he tried to pull the pieces together, pretty much forgetting that his goal was, and had been, to not worry about Kurt.

He began to pick up his pace, cussing up and down when he realized he had no plan to go on. Kurt still looked at him like he was a dead possum on the side of the road, and Finn really had no one else to turn to. He wasn't about to ask Puck, who he assumed was the main bruise- creator, and get questioned again. He thought about asking Mercedes, but one thought of facing her fury sent him a step back. He wasn't even facing her and he had to step back.

Calm down, he told himself, running his hands through his hair. You don't need to panic. This is Brittany. The same Brittany who wanted to be a sock when she grew up. It could just be shadows. I would have noticed if he was that bad. Wouldn't I?

No. His conscience answered back.

Finn's stomach turned hollow. He forgot about not caring and trying to keep a hold on himself. He began to make his way towards the car, the wheels spinning in his mind. He wondered if he could ask Tina or Artie, but had no idea if they'd know, and knew how that conversation would come off.

'So. Have you guys seen any bruises on Kurt? –'s back?'

No. There was nowhere he could go. No one to ask. He was trapped.

I can't panic until I see. That much is easy. But I can't just ask to see. Kurt will…I don't even know what Kurt will do. I abandoned him... and now, and this-"

He forced his eyes off of the rear view mirror. He was going to end up in a car wreck if he kept this up, and then he'd have a lot more to worry about than some supposed bruises. He forced his mind to watch only traffic lights and stops signs until he got home, at which point he walked inside, sat down on the couch, and picked up where he left off.

Shit. He said quietly, staring at his hands. Shit, shit, shit.

That was about as far into a plan he'd gotten when Kurt walked in the door, dressed in his cheerio's uniform, staring blankly at his iPod. As Finn shifted, trying to hide the fact that he was looking but only managing to look like he was staring at Kurt's ass, Kurt faced him with that hollow stare. It was only Finn who got that look. Anyone else, even Puck or Quinn, got the usual cocky 'I'm better than you and you don't matter' raised eyebrow stare. But when Kurt faced Finn, his eyes said so much more.

"K-kurt-" Was as far as he got before Kurt turned on the worn path to his basement. Finn got up to follow, but was cut off as a door slammed behind the smaller boy. Finn didn't dare try and follow. When Kurt was in that sort of mood, even Burt gave him his space. Finn sucked in a rush of air as his fist slammed the wall. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted to talk. He just wanted…peace.

He returned to the living room, nursing his hand. That was no way to solve problems he knew, punching things, but it was the best option he had. He collapsed on the couch a moment later and tried to think of a way to bring it up. He went over a scenario or two, but nothing panned out in his mind. He wasn't like Kurt, crafty and clever. He worked off of emotion and feeling. And as one last scenario blasted through his mind, he definitely got an emotion and a very, very bad feeling.

He got up and poured a glass of water.

xXx

Five hours later, shadows stretched across the living room floor and Finn was still in his spot on the couch. Only now, he was practically shaking and his legs were squeezed together so tight he was losing feeling in his feet. In front of him on the coffee table, two glasses were empty next to a large pitcher filled roughly half way with water. Even looking at the pitcher made Finn want to die. He closed his eyes and ran through his plan again, knowing he was, in fact, completely insane. But at the sound of the basement door opening, Finn knew it was the only way. There was no other way to make himself go through with it. He tried to look nonchalant as Kurt walked in and out of view, on his way to the bathroom, before doubling over in pain. His bladder was dying. Shivers of pain smacked his stomach as he inched around, listening for the shower sounds.

It wasn't time yet, but he hoped it was soon. If his mother or father came home in the midst of this, well, he wasn't about to face that possibility. He just tried to drown out all noise as, a room away, shower sounds spread across the house. About four minutes in, Finn forced himself to his feet.

What am I doing? He asked, a third of the way there. Ouch, ouch, it hurt to stand.

This is insane. I'm a disgusting pervert. The door was in view. Shortly thereafter, the water stopped. Finn's stomach was in knots.

That bastard beat him till he bruised. Another step forward.

I'm not doing this. Step.

This is happening. Step.

What if I'm wrong? Wavering step.

What if it's true? His hand reached for the handle.

I have to pee. The door creaked, turned, and there was Kurt.

Out of the shower and naked as the day he was born.