When Kurt was finally released an hour or so later, he looked like hell. He felt like hell. They said he wasn't a suicide risk-the sound of that word, the very idea that Kurt could even contemplate that scared Burt to no end. The four of them trundled themselves into the two cars and drove home in silence once Kurt was cleared to go. Finn and Carole were still lost about the whole situation, still fumbling in the dark about what had happened.
The house was dark, but warm, and still smelled a little like the dinner they were supposed to have had when Burt led Kurt down to the basement to get changed. He didn't want to leave him down there, not even to sleep, but he couldn't hover. Kurt wouldn't want him to hover. And Finn would be there; it was his room too. Finn could keep him safe.
"I'll be okay, dad. I'm fine. I just…I need some sleep right now." His eyes were puffy and discolored from all the crying he'd done earlier, his face blotched with patches of red and white. The sweats he now wore were a little too big and made him look like a little kid who had raided his father's closet and put on the first things he found there. The dull blue color of the fabric only washed him out more and Burt had to resist the urge to pull him back into a hug. God, he looked so fragile.
"All right, kiddo. I'm just worried about you." Burt was quiet for a moment, and he took a deep breath, trying to build his courage. No one had ever told him that having kids would be so difficult, that he might someday have to deal with something so serious, something like this. "You know that if you ever need to talk-"
"I'm fine, dad!" Kurt shouted without warning, pushing Burt away. "Nothing happened." He sounded so defeated as he dropped to a seat on his bed, wincing in pain. The hospital had given him something for that. He'd need to take some later. His bed hadn't changed at all in the time since he'd left for Dalton, though the rest of the room was distinctly more 'Finn' in nature. The dark green walls seemed strange to him, but it was okay. Finn must like them, so it was okay. Ugly and terribly uninspired, but okay.
"Nothing happened."
Burt crouched down beside the bed so he was at eye-level with Kurt. It hurt so bad to know that his son didn't want him around, was pushing him away, but he needed to move past that; Kurt was hurting far worse right now. "Kurt, as much as I hate to say it, as much as I don't want it to be true, and as much as I want it all to be a bad dream that we haven't quite woken up from, something did happen. Something really, really bad happened to you, and I'm here if you need me. So is Finn. So is Carole. It's gonna be okay, son. We'll get through this."
Kurt nodded, now more tired than he'd felt in weeks. Months. Years, even.
"Okay, dad," he whispered.
Burt was silent again, trying to catch Kurt's gaze. The soft yellow light of Finn's beside lamp threw their shadows on the wall, like black ghosts suspended in dark green space. "They need to know, Kurt."
Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide and overly bright in the dim light. His expression was laced with fear. "But-"
"They're gonna find out sometime or another, kiddo. They live here. With you, with me. We can't keep this a secret, Kurt. Not to them. It's not fair. They-they've gotta know."
Kurt looked down at the floor, down at his bare toes. He wasn't ready to face them yet, to face what had happened to him. It still didn't seem quite real. Not when he couldn't remember it-only the aftermath. "Can…can you tell them? I don't know that I can. I…I'm really tired." Drained, really. He just wanted to curl up under the covers of the bed he remembered so fondly and sleep for a million years. Pretend that none of this had ever happened. That everything could go back to the way it was.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, Kurt. You just get some sleep. Finn will be down in a little bit. I'll tell them. You don't-you don't need to do anything, okay? We can…we can deal with all this in the morning, if you feel up to it. Just get some sleep. It'll be okay." Kurt was listless as his dad pressed his small frame to his chest. The flannel shirt he'd spent so long crying into was soft against his cheek. His dad smelled of sweat and snow and tears and a little like vomit but mostly like home.
"I'll check on you later tonight We've been through some bad things before. We'll get through this, bud. We'll get through this."
Finn and Carole were sitting together at the kitchen table when Burt came up from the basement. Finn had one of his mother's hands gripped tightly in his own, grounding her to the present. This was hard on her: Kurt was as close to a second son as she was going to get; he was dear to her like her own, and not knowing how to help him when he so sorely needed it was torture. Not knowing what had happened to hurt him so badly was tearing her apart. She looked so pale and lost sitting there with Finn. Burt felt his chest tighten.
"Hey," he mumbled quietly, breaking the silence. "He's asleep."
They both turned to him, heavy grooves of exhaustion written across their faces.
Carole was the first to speak. "What happened, Burt? No one would tell us anything. What happened to Kurt?"
He sighed and fell into an empty chair, suddenly feeling more tired than he had since breaking the news to Kurt that his mother was never coming home again. This wasn't-couldn't be real. He closed his eyes and sucked in a burning breath before launching into what he'd pieced together from the police report and Kurt's garbled confession in the car. The night was far too quiet, far too still, far too calm for something like this. It was as if this whole ordeal were some sort of cosmic joke and no one had bothered to tell them the punch line.
Finn didn't say anything to Kurt when he finally came down the stairs into their shared room for the night-just stared at Kurt's still form for a while, not daring to try and wake him up, though Kurt had yet to actually fall asleep. Kurt couldn't bring himself to face Finn but was just as terrified of what he might see in his dreams, and so he lay awake in the dark, mind racing. The pain meds he'd taken, the stuff from the hospital, had yet to take effect.
His dad said that he'd tell Finn and Carole what had happened, so Finn had to know now. Oh god, he had to know. He knew. Finn knew. That's why he was staring at him like that, wasn't it? Finn could see it-could see the filth clinging to him, could see that he deserved it, deserved what had happened, regardless of what his dad had said. He began to tremble, unable to stand the scrutiny, the accusations, the overwhelming shame. It was his fault everyone was on pins and needles, his fault they were hurting. He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to let the darkness consume him. He felt like there was this terrible weight on his chest from the pain he was causing his family, crushing him. It was unbearable.
His heart finally slowed when Finn retreated to his side of the room. Kurt could feel the terrible pull of sleep threatening to drag him under and he tried to resist, not sure what awaited him in his dreams, not sure he wanted to find out. The pain medication coursing through him had finally kicked-in, doubling his exhaustion, and it was hard to fight it now that Finn was on the opposite side of the room, out of reach.
How could he let this happen? How could he to this to his dad? To Carole? To Finn? So stupid. So worthless. He hadn't even been able to tell when he'd been drugged. How pathetic was that? His throat tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Tomorrow, Kurt. Just deal with it tomorrow. And sleep took him.