25
Quinn knocked on the closed stall door.
"Mercedes? Sweetie, please talk to me…"
A retching sound followed by sniffling was the only reply.
The restroom door opened and Carole poked her head in.
"Are you girls okay? The police just got here and Burt and I are about to talk to them. Rachel and Finn stayed with Kurt."
Quinn nodded. "I can handle this, Mrs. Hummel. Go ahead." When the woman was gone, she rapped harder with her knuckles. "Open up."
There was a long pause, and then the stall door unlatched with a click. Quinn peered inside; Mercedes was leaning over the toilet bowl.
"Tethered like an animal," she murmured, her voice echoing off the porcelain and tile. "Like an animal."
Quinn knelt and rubbed slow circles on her friend's back.
She didn't know what to say.
:
"Kurt, you need to eat something."
A tray of lime Jell-O, some kind of broth, and Sprite had just been delivered. Kurt was glaring at it, arms crossed gingerly.
"I'm not hungry."
Rachel sighed and looked to her boyfriend for help, but Finn wasn't paying attention, engrossed in something on his phone.
"Finn…" Rachel hissed.
He looked up. "Huh?"
"Tell Kurt he needs to eat."
Finn straightened in his seat. "Kurt, you need to—ew, dude, what is that stuff?"
Kurt snorted triumphantly. "See? If the human garbage disposal wouldn't eat it, it certainly won't do for me."
Rachel huffed and sat back in her chair. "Who are you texting?"
"The rest of the gleeks," Finn replied, eyes trained once again on his cellular. "Their parents all made them go to school—but Puck's skipping anyway, so he might be here soon."
"Does everyone have to come gawk at me like I'm some zoo animal?" Kurt grumbled, giving the can of soda the evil eye.
Rachel shared a look with Finn.
"They're worried about you, Kurt. You don't have to talk to them, but don't you think they deserve to see that you're okay?"
Kurt shrugged. Then he lifted his eyes and gasped.
"Blaine."
Finn and Rachel spun to see the prep school boy standing in the doorway, staring at the bed and its occupant.
"God, Kurt…" Blaine murmured, his eyes wide.
Finn frowned. "I thought I told you not to come here."
"What?" Kurt was confused. "When did you talk to him?"
Rachel's head swiveled between the newcomer and her bedridden friend.
"Look…Blaine, right?" she began gently, "maybe now isn't the best time…"
"It's okay," Kurt cut her off. "Could you give us a minute?"
Rachel sighed and nodded reluctantly, taking Finn's sleeve and beginning to pull him from the room.
"We'll be right outside," Finn said pointedly, shooting Blaine a warning look as they left, shutting the door.
Kurt offered Blaine a tiny smile. "Hi."
The other boy took a step forward, his gaze fixed on Kurt's face.
"I saw the news and I thought it might be you. Then you weren't picking up your phone…"
"And here I am!" Kurt said mock-cheerfully.
"It was Karofsky, right? Is he in jail?"
The countertenor shrugged. "I don't know."
"…you don't seem all that concerned about it."
Kurt's eyes filled with angry tears, which he tried unsuccessfully to hide.
"To be honest, I've got enough to deal with here, without worrying about what's happening to him. I'm trying to hold myself together. Fuck him. Who cares? He already got to me, anyway, and I don't believe in God's justice prevailing or any of that shit."
Blaine looked taken aback.
"What did he do to you?" he asked softly.
Kurt shook his head bitterly. "It doesn't matter. He won."
"If you'd been at Dalton, this wouldn't have happened."
"If you're about to apologize, let me stop you right there. I've had it up to here with people saying sorry for things they have nothing to do with."
"But I—"
"Do you ever wonder," Kurt said loudly, looking Blaine straight in the eyes, "why our 'friendship' seems especially strong when things are at their worst? Is it because you feel the need to mentor me, Blaine? Like I need you at times like these? Like I need your pathetic apologies?" He clenched his fists and jutted his chin out. "What I need is a friend. Someone who'll be there fair-weather or foul-weather or any weather. If you can't muster up the courage to do that, then I can't have you around me right now."
Blaine looked like he'd been slapped in the face.
"Kurt…"
"I really like you, Blaine. But I know who I am, and I'm not ashamed of it. I can't let the way I feel stop me from saying what needs to be said." He laughed harshly. "Look at me. This is where being myself got me, and I don't know if things will ever be the same again. But at least I'm not hiding."
Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, shifting anxiously. "That was…brutally honest."
"It's amazing what almost dying will do to you."
The door swung open and Burt came in, breaking the moment.
"Kurt, the…who is this?" he asked, noticing Blaine off to the side.
"This is Blaine Anderson from Dalton. Blaine, my father, Burt Hummel."
Burt eyed Blaine suspiciously.
"I should go," Blaine said, casting Kurt one last look. "I—I just had to see you, Kurt." And he fled, looking rather like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Kurt looked after him dispassionately. Burt frowned.
"Uh…I was going to say that the police need to get your statement, Kurt. About what happened," he added unnecessarily.
Kurt sank back onto the pillows. "Did they…find him?"
Burt nodded slowly. "They're holding him for car theft—his fingerprints were in the Navigator—and suspected assault." His voice dropped on the final word.
Kurt replied matter-of-factly. "Because they don't have the proof yet that he was the one who attacked me."
Burt flinched at his son's blasé attitude.
"…right."
Kurt took a breath.
"Let's get this over with."