Chapter 23:

Finn stared, a little confused, at Marcel and Michael sitting together on the couch. Their sitting together wasn't the odd part; they'd been sitting together for a week now (and Finn was pretty sure Marcel was slowly closing the distance between them, inching closer each day). The part that confused him was why exactly Paige was crouching behind the couch, appearing to be listening attentively despite the fact that neither of them were speaking.

Shaking his head, Finn made his way over to the couch and sat down on the arm next to Marcel. "Whatcha guys watching?" He asked pleasantly.

"Horror show." Michael said.

Marcel laughed. "It's called 'Toddler's in Tiara's'." He said. Finn noticed that he was using his higher, more feminine voice again. "It's amazing."

"It's trash. I can't believe these people are allowed to exist." Michael grumbled.

"You know you could always turn the channel, right?" Finn said.

"Marcel's watching." Michael said with a shrug.

Marcel beamed. "You can change it, if you want." He said, batting his eyelashes. Finn looked down behind the couch, and saw Paige biting down on fist excitedly. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you guys." Finn said, gesturing for Paige to follow him.

She crawled away from the couch slowly, and began walking when she was about half way across the room.

"Paige, what the hell?" He asked, leading her over to a table and sitting down. "What are you doing?"

"Spying, duh." She said, giving him a look.

"Why? And they're hardly even speaking, what's to spy on?"

She grinned. "They were talking before and it was the weirdest thing. Finn, Micheal's smart. Like he knows shit. About books. He reads books."

Finn furrowed his brow. "I've never seen him with a book."

"He says he reads at night. He's read Catcher in the Rye 17 times." She said, nodding. "And that's Marcel's most favourite book ever. They were talking about it, and how super cool it is and it's literary value and how it's still relevant and all this stuff. And they're so cute together!" She squealed.

"Paige, I think you're forgetting that Michael. Isn't. Gay." He said, speaking very slowly. She rolled her eyes at his patronizing tone. "And even if he was, Marcel is only interested in him for sex. There's nothing adorable about that."

Paige shook her head. "It's so not about that, Finn! You just need to watch- or, listen- to them together and you'll see, Michael's so much nicer to him than he's ever been to anyone here. And Marcel went 30 whole minutes with out mentioning sex and stuff once." She said, raising her eyebrows impressively.

That was actually a pretty big deal- sex tended to one of the only things Marcel ever talked about with them. He'd never mentioned books at all.

"He's still not gay."

"How do you know?" Paige narrowed her eyes. "Have you ever asked him?"

Finn stared at her. "No, but he's spent the last 6 months calling me a fag!"

She shrugged. "Maybe that was a cover. Or you know, maybe he's just crazy. Mental asylum, you know." She said, gesturing around her. "Or maybe he's just like a two or three and is just realizing it now."

"A what?"

"A two or a three. Like on the Kinsey scale." She explained.

"On the what?"

"It's a scale that measures your levels of gayness or not gayness. I think you're probably a one. Someone bisexual would be like a three."

"There's a scale? How does that make sense? Isn't there either just like gay or straight?" He asked. "Or bisexual." He added as an afterthought.

Paige rolled her eyes. "Finny, you of all people should know that it doesn't work like that. People can't be divided into apples and bananas. Sometimes you're a strawberry. I think most people are strawberries, actually. But the world makes it seem like everyone else is an apple or banana, so the strawberries assume they are too."

"But they're strawberries?"

She nodded.

"Paige, I get what you're saying but I don't think it makes any sense." He said slowly.

"Why not?" She asked, narrowing her eyes again.

"Because a strawberry isn't half way between an apple and banana."

She sighed. "Awesome way to miss the point."

It was lunch time, and Kurt was putting his binders from the first half of the day into his locker when Blaine came up to him, with a tragically pained looked on his face.

"You ok?" Kurt asked, pausing with his hand on his science text book.

"Kurt, I- I have some bad news." Blaine said, his face screwed up into a grimace. Kurt raised an eyebrow, slowly with drawing his hand from his locker. "I- I won't be at lunch today!" He cried, biting down on his fist, as though the emotion behind his words was too much to handle.

Kurt shook his head. "That's not nice you know. For about a millisecond, I was actually worried."

"I know, my darling, it pains my heart too!" He continued, ignoring Kurt's apathy. Blaine reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into his arms and clutching him tightly against his chest. Kurt laughed. "But rest assured, we will find some way to carry on."

"You're a bit nutty, you know that right?" Kurt said, chuckling a little as Blaine released him and grinned. "Why won't you be at lunch?"

Blaine shrugged. "Tony's taking me out...he's trying to bond." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Probably trying to save you from your nutcase boyfriend." Kurt mumbled.

"Probably." Blaine agreed. Kurt glared at him and Blaine grinned and wrapped his arms around him. "Hey, remember the whole 'things are going to be different now, I promise?' conversation we had a few days ago?" Kurt nodded. "Was that not true?"

"Of course it was!" Kurt said instantly. Blaine was pining his arms to his sides with his hug, and Kurt wiggled them out and wrapped them around his neck. "I love you and I want to keep you. And preferably, keep you sane."

Blaine grinned and kissed him on the nose. "Then he's got nothing to save me from."

"He doesn't know that."

"I will tell him, and he will know." Blaine said firmly. He looked at his watch. "I gotta go, break the news to Jeff and Nick for me will ya?"

"Alright, but it's going to crush their little warbling hearts." He said, shrugging.

Blaine grinned. "'Warbling Heart.' I like that. It can be a follow up to 'Rambling Man.'" Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine good-bye, and he turned and left.

Kurt smiled after him for a moment, and put his book bag in his locker.

"You're disgusting, you know that right?" A voice to his left sneered.

Kurt stiffened. "What do you want, Jake?" He asked cooly. He looked around, and saw that while the hallway wasn't exactly crowded there were a few other guys hanging around at their lockers. Jake couldn't do anything but sneer.

"I don't want anything. Except maybe you to stop being such a cock-sucker." He said with a wide smile.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, since it's not your cock I'm sucking." Kurt replied. He cringed inwardly the moment the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late now. Oh well.

Kurt turned to walk away, but Jake called after him.

"Guess mines the only one, huh?"

He stopped and turned back around. "What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

Jake kept the wide grin on his face, his eyes glinting as he spoke. "Exactly what it sounded like. Don't think we don't all know what a slut you are." He snickered to himself. "Well, 'cept Anderson."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said, trying to keep his voice even. "I'm not a slut."

Jake laughed. "Right. That's why you practically tried to jump my bones in the washroom? That's why I heard someone saw you sucking a guy off behind a dumpster a few weeks back?" Kurt's eyes went wide. He was doing what behind a dumpster? "And what, do you think we don't hear the things you say? 'God, why doesn't he just ask me to bend over before he reams me next time?'" Jake said in a high voice.

Kurt cringed, visibly this time. He'd said last week after the science teacher had chewed him out for not wearing his goggles during an experiment.

"You've got a mouth on you, boy." Jake snickered again. "A filthy, cock-sucking mouth."

"S-shut up."

Kurt looked around, to the voice who'd spoken (stammered quietly) from behind Jake. He was surprised to find the new/old kid, whose name he'd learned was George Zimmerman, standing there with a pink face and clenched fists.

"Excuse me?" Jake asked, looking extremely surprised to hear George speak. Personally, Kurt was surprised that George could speak.

"You're saying sh-shit about Kurt. Untrue shit." George said, sounding marginally more sure of himself. "Stop."

"How do youknow it's untrue? He looks like a cock-sucker to me." Jack smiled again, barring his teeth menacingly.

"And you look like a brain-dead limp-dicked imbecile who talks trash about others because their Mommy didn't hug them enough when they were a kid." George spewed. "But I'm sure you're just an asshole."

Jake glared at him. "Fuck you, Zimmerman."

"Brilliant comeback." Kurt drawled, feeling like he should help George in some way. "Do you write your own material?"

Jake just sneered. "Whatever, you two can have fun sucking each others dicks, I'm outta here."

"Careful Jake." George cautioned, speaking to Jakes retreating figure. "If you k-keep talking about sucking dicks so much, people are going to get the wrong idea."

Jake held up the middle finger as he turned the corner and disappeared.

"Oh, god." George muttered, sinking to the floor. "Oh god, oh god..."

"Are you alright?" Kurt asked, kneeling beside him. He didn't know why George had defended him like that, but he was damn grateful.

George shook his head. "I've never- I've never done anything like that before. Never ever ever." He rubbed his temples, his face flushed pink. "I think I may vomit."

"You'll be fine." Kurt said, patting him twice on the shoulder. "That was amazing, seriously."

George turned his head a little, glancing at Kurt's hand on his shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to feel like doing that 11 more times, would you?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind." He said quickly.

Kurt stood up and offered his hand to George, who took it after a moment of wary staring. "Do you want to come have lunch with me and my friends? I mean, you sort of heroically defended me- I could buy you some french fries!"

George gave a nervous twitch, and shifted around uncomfortably. "Uh, actually, Kurt well- I need to sort of talk to you. About something."

Kurt blinked at him. "About what?"

George bit his lip, and his hand twitched a little as he went to put it on Kurt's back. "Walk with me."

"I think you're jealous." Paige said firmly, jumping her knight over Finn's queen. They couldn't find the checkers set, but neither of them knew or cared how to play chess.

"Of what?" Finn sputtered, unsure if he wanted to sneer or sound surprised. The effect was oddly garbled. He glanced behind Paige towards Micheal and Marcel on the couch. He wondered if Michael realized that Marcel was slowly inching closer to him ever commercial break. They were barely 10 inches apart now.

"You know what, Finn-head." She said, rolling her eyes painfully.

"I'm not jealous of Micheal." He scoffed, jumping over two of Paige's pawns.

"How do you know?" She asked, trying to grab one of her pieces back from him. He held it out of her reach.

"I know because they're are like 50 reasons not to be. And none like to...be." He muttered. "First of all I am not gay. You seem to forget that."

"I do, sometimes. But then Lina walks by and I think about how you porked her and I remember. " She quipped. Finn sighed. He had a feeling he was going to be paying for that for the endurance of their friendship.

"Sorry sorry..." Finn mumbled. "But I'm not jealous. Marcel came to me first, remember? And besides, there's nothing actually going on between-"

Finn stared with an open mouth as Michael reached over and put his arm around Marcel, pulling him closer and closing the small gap between them. He kept one arm around his shoulders and Marcel leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"What?" Paige asked, turning to see what he was gaping at. She gave an ear-popping squeal of excitement when she saw Marcel and Michael cuddling on the couch. "I KNEW IT!" She burst out, jumping out of her chair.

Michael and Marcel turned and looked at her, and she squealed happily again and did a little dance. Marcel blushed and gave a small, coy smile before turning back around and resuming snuggling against Michael. Michael just smirked and kissed Marcel on the top of his head.

Finn continued to gape.

"You haven't heard any rumours about where I've been for the past year, have you?" George asked, as they walked around the grounds. Kurt had never really explored the outside of Dalton, but he was finding it was actually quite pretty. He and Blaine should consider have lunch outside sometime.

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked away. He had definitely heard rumours about where George had been, a range of them. A few people insisted he was in jail, while he'd heard one boy swear he'd run away to New York and was living on the streets as a prostitute. But there was one rumour he'd heard so consistently, he had a hard time not believing it. "They say...they say you were in a mental asylum." He whispered, forcing himself to make eye-contact.

George gave him a smile, nervous smile. "Unless you talk to Cale Block, who says I was a gigolo." George stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked away. "But the mental asylum thing...that's true."

Kurt didn't say anything, because he really had no idea what the hell you were supposed to say when someone tells you something like that.

"Anyways...the thing I needed to talk to you about involves someone I met while I was there." He stopped walking and looked at him. Kurt stopped to, feeling a dull pounding in his chest. Or was it in his head?

"Who?" Kurt asked in a quiet, hoarse voice. He already knew, but he couldn't believe it.

George looked at him, his eyes full of meaning that Kurt did not want to understand. "Finn. I...I know Finn."

Kurt opened his mouth, and the sound which came out surprised him. He laughed. It wasn't funny, but for some reason, he laughed. He sat down on a pretty metal bench behind George, laughing and trying to breathe. "Holy fucking shit..."

George sat down quietly next to him, and reached out to put his hand on his back. His hand stopped, hesitating halfway there before finally settling on his shoulder.

"What do you know?" He asked finally, turning his head a little to look at George.

"Everything." George said simply. The look in his eyes told him it was true.

Suddenly, he wanted to vomit. "Oh god."

"I recognized you from, um a picture that P- Finn's friend drew. Of you." He said quietly. Kurt furrowed his brow. Finn had friends? "I guess I should have recognized the Dalton uniform but the drawing was black and white and only from your shoulders up..."

"How did someone draw in a mental institution draw a picture of me?" Kurt asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"Uh, I think she got the picture from Finn's Mom." George said. "She was kind of obsessed with you for a little, it was cute." He smiled fondly. "She kept asking him questions, about who are were and what you were into...it hurt him, to talk about you like that, but I think she wanted to make you seem more real to him. More than just someone he'd hurt, a real whole person. That's why she made the drawing too...it was really good. Really real...he freaked out when he saw it."

"Why?"

George shrugged. "I don't know. But something about it really messed with his head. After that he did something really stupid, and it really upset Paige." Kurt could only assume that "Paige" was the girl that was friends with Finn. He was beginning to think George had a thing for her, just from the way he said her name and smiled. "She went into sort of a funk... but Finn fixed it and they both got a lot better after that."

He shook his head. "I still don't understand the part where Finn has a friend."

George looked away uncomfortably. "He's my friend, too..."

Kurt gaped at him. "How? How could you be friends with that?"

"He's...I don't know. He's not a bad guy, anymore. I guess." George cast his eyes downward. "I was there when he first came, so I know how terrible the person you knew was. He was angry, and brutal and kind of scary...he'd look at me, and sometimes it was like he wasn't really there." George shuddered. "But that's not who he is anymore. He's different."

Kurt snorted. "Oh, does he feel bad about what he did?"

George turned and looked at him sadly. "I've never met anyone who hated themselves as much as Finn Hudson. If it makes you feel better."

He snorted again. "Yes, loads better. Finn hates himself, and somehow that makes me un-raped." George looked away from him again, and Kurt felt an annoying regret creep into his stomach. "Sorry, George...I don't mean to be so...bitchy." He sighed. "I'm kind of a mess, I guess."

"You're not." George said, focusing on a tree off in the distance as he spoke. Kurt could see the pink sneaking back into his cheeks. "You're amazing."

He blinked. "I'm what?" He asked, unable to believe he'd heard him right.

George shifted his body so he was facing him again, and looked him in the eye. His face was bright pink now, and he looked embarrassed but determined. "You're amazing." He repeated. "I know, everything that Finn did to you, and I saw first hand what doing it did to Finn. Now, I never expected to meet you but if I had, I would have expected to meet a broken shell of a person. Someone beaten down. But...you're not. I've seen you laughing with your friends, with your boyfriend...I've seen you going to classes and living your life and knowing what happened to you...it all seems so amazing." He smiled a little, looking even more embarrassed. "I think you might be my hero."

"What's amazing about being a victim?" Kurt asked quietly, still feeling slightly unreal. He couldn't believe that someone who knew what had happened to him, knew the details of it all, could look at him with anything but pity.

"That's the thing, Kurt." George said earnestly. "I would have expected to meet a victim, but your not one." Kurt looked up, into George's eyes. "You're a survivor."

That night, Finn woke up to something he had never woken up to before. In any other situation, this would have been a lovely way to be awoken. But in a mental institution, it's never a good thing to wake up to someone jerking you off.

Finn opened his mouth to groan, or moan or make some sort of "I am displeased" noise, but before he could, a hand was snapped over his mouth.

"What the fuck, man?" Finn tried to say, but it was muffled by Marcel's hand. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, and he could feel Marcel's ragged breath on his cheek, and feel his tear drops splashing against him before he could see him.

"How could you do it, Finn?" Marcel asked, his voice dark and broken. Finn wracked his brain for what he'd done, but he came up with nothing. He tried to tell Marcel he didn't know what he was talking about, but Marcel began pumping his hand faster and the words got lost in his throat.

He groaned, struggling to think. There was a whisper of fog beginning to trickle in and he fought against it. "Marcel- ah god, shit man you gotta stop." He managed. Marcel just gripped him harder and he moaned, letting his head fall back against his pillow.

"How could you do that to him, Finn?" Marcel hissed.

"No idea what you're t-talkin' a-about." Finn stammered, the fog growing thicker. "Please, Marcel...please." Marcel was ignoring him, and a dense voice in his head told him to just give up. Let it happen. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. Marcel was doing this, of his own accord, to him. He'd tried to stop him...no reason to feel bad. He moaned, as the fog coaxed him into relaxing.

"How could you do that me?" Marcel asked, his voice breaking further.

Somewhere behind the fog, Finn thought he understood what Marcel meant now. How could he have done that to Kurt? How could he have done the same thing to Kurt that had been done to him? He couldn't answer, not right now. Something inside of him was aching, wanting more than just Marcel's hand.

Finn's fingers twitched, and his eyes snapped to Marcel's head...and his mouth. It was pulsing oddly as Marcel continued to breath angrily, his lips red and wet. It would be so easy, just to push his head down, and get that wet red mouth around his-

Another tear drop hit him in his eye, and he jerked himself out of his trance. No, no no. He was not going to do this, not again. He wasn't going to let Marcel do this to himself, either.. He took a hand and dug his nails into his own arm, the pain sending him back from whatever precipice he'd been teetering on. He made himself think of the mail-man he'd once hit with his car, remembering the sick crushing sound the man's body had made as he'd hit the glass. He calmed down. "M-marcel, you need to stop now." He said, not sounding as firm as he would have liked, but firm enough. "Don't d-do this to yourself."

Marcel stopped the pumping motions, and just held him tightly. Very tightly. Finn groaned again, suddenly in a lot of pain. It was better though, he'd take the pain. "How can I do anything when they already did this to me? When you did it?"

"I'm s-sorry." He groaned, the fog in his brain being replaced by bright lights and spots in front of his eyes. Marcel was squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his dick, and it hurt like a motherfucker.

"I w-was fucked up. They were fucked up. But this i-is fucked up too. Ah!" He wriggled a little, the pain so bad he thought he was actually going to cry. "Please!"

"No!" Marcel whispered angrily, more tear drops falling from his eyes onto Finn's face. "You don't get to say please."

Desperate for relief now, Finn pulled at any string he could think of. "What about Michael, Marcel?" He gasped, curling up in agony. "W-what would h-he think a-aa-bout this?"

Finally, so fucking finally, Marcel made a terrified whimpering sound and let go oh thank fuck. Finn took a deep breath as Marcel withdrew his hand, crumpling back on his bed.

"Jesus, man..." Finn muttered, sitting up and looking at Marcel in the dark.

"Just...tell me how you could do it?" Marcel asked, his knees hugged tightly to his chest. "I need to know."

Finn sighed. "I can't. Honestly, I don't know. There was something in my head, like a fog or shit, something that made it seem ok. Like it wasn't real. Like, his screams and cries were all a dream."

Marcel snorted. "Some fucking dream." He put his head in his hands and began to sob. Finn didn't dare put his arm around him.

"Marcel, what happened?" He asked, trying to adjust himself in a way that didn't throb like a bitch. "You were fine before."

"Nothing happened." He said bitterly. "I just can't take feeling like this anymore." He put his hand to his heart, clutching at his t-shirt. "It's just- all the fucking time." He sobbed. "It's clawing and burning and I just feel so- so- so-"

"Horny?" Finn supplied. Evidently, this was the wrong thing to say, and Marcel burst back into tears.

"It's d-d-disgusting!" Marcel moaned, his shoulder shaking angrily. "I w-want it to go away. Now."

"I get that." Finn said quietly, hoping Marcel didn't freak out at him like last time. Instead he just turned and looked at him. "When I first got here, I spent hours in my room every day just jerking off and crying. It was awful. I would think about Kurt and hate myself so much for wanting him the way I did, even when I knew how wrong and disgusting it was. I felt like shit, like a pervert- which granted, I was. But you're not. I made myself that way, with my own fucking hate and anger and shit. You had this done to you. I know you feel disgusting, but you know you're not. And it'll get better." Probably.

"How?"

How the fuck was he supposed to know? "Um, well Paige sort of made it impossible for me to jerk off and think about Kurt anymore and I got sort of really frustrated, so I screwed Lina and then Paige and I made sort of a pact to get better- that and they upped my medication. So I have no idea, because I really don't suggest doing any of that." He thought. "What are you doing in therapy?"

Marcel shrugged. "Just talking about shit. I'm on some medication but it's not gonna work for a while- they keep talking about re-conditioning and shit. No idea."

"Have you, um...talked to Micheal, maybe?" He suggested.

Marcel shook his head. "I don't want to." He put his head against his knees. "It'll just make him realize what trash I am sooner. Besides, I don't want to push it."

"Push what?"

"Him. He's never been into a guy before, I don't want to push it." Marcel laughed a little to himself. "He says he was never into a girl either though, so who knows?"

"I think you should talk to him..." Finn said slowly. He wasn't actually sure it was a good idea, but if it stopped Marcel from trying to convince him to rape him again, it seemed like it would be worth it. "You're not trash, not even a little. I should know, being trash myself. And if he's never been into a guy before, you've got to be really special, huh?" Marcel snorted, but it wasn't as bitter as before. He took that as a good sign. "Talk to him. Maybe- maybe he can help you. That's got to be better than me doing something. I mean, at least you like him, right?"

Marcel lifted his head up and looked at him. "I like him. He's- I've never." Marcel smiled, and even though it was dark, Finn would have bet money that he was blushing. "I've never met anyone who makes me feel like he does."

Finn smiled, and put his hand on Marcel's shoulder. "I think he'll help you."

Marcel frowned. "I don't see how he could. I only have 5 minute checks, that's hardly enough time to do anything."

Finn opened his mouth to respond, when an awful realization hit him. "You only have 5 minute checks?" He asked frantically. He'd been in here for at least 10 minutes. "Oh, fuck-" He said, just as his door burst open and Sheila, and the orderly who'd been hired to replace Gorey, Robbie, burst in. They flipped the light on, and Robbie sighed in relief when he saw Marcel sitting there.

"He's in here." Sheila called out to the hallway, and Casey poked her head in.

"I told you he would be." Casey said, smiling proudly. Sheila shot her a glare, and Casey pulled her head out, and darted away.

"What the fuck, Marcel?" Sheila growled, glaring at him.

"I-I'm sorry." Marcel whimpered, tears tricking down his cheeks again. Now that the light was on, Finn could see how red his eyes were. "I j-j-just can't take it anymore." He hiccuped pathetically, and Sheila seemed to soften, just a little.

She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry you feel like this Marcel, and if I could make it better I would, but this isn't the answer." She said, gesturing to Finn. She turned to Robbie and instructed him to take Marcel back to his room.

Robbie nodded, and he led Marcel out, patting him soothingly on the back.

Sheila sat down on Finn's bed, looking very tired. "Thank you, Finn, for not hurting him." She said, and Finn blinked in surprise. "I know it must have been difficult." She unclipped her walkie-talkie from her belt, and handed it to him. "If he somehow manages to sneak back in here tonight, call us. Tomorrow we'll have you moved to a room with a lock, ok?" She said, standing up. "I know you think it's not a big deal, but it's not ok for him to touch you like that, alright?"

Finn nodded, and Sheila closed the door and turned off the light. He lay back down, thinking that Sheila was wrong- he deserved to have everything that he'd in inflicted on Kurt done back to him 10 times over. But he appreciated the sentiment, just the same.