A/N: Having no internet in the house is INCREDIBLY frustrating. Not only is the modem fried, but also the router. I. Hate. Technology. Thank god for public libraries.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Burt came into the kitchen for a coffee break from the garage, he heard raised voices coming from the basement stairwell. His coffee forgotten, he stood at the top of the stairs, listening to his son and stepson arguing. From the sound of it, the quarrel had been going on for a long while already. Burt debated whether or not to get Carole, who was upstairs taking a much-needed nap.

"Kurt, I am fine."

"Don't you dare play that card with me, Finn Hudson!"

"Will you stop acting like my mom?"

"If you refuse to take care of yourself, then another mom is exactly what you need!"

"I am taking care of myself!"

"Look around you, Finn! Our room looks like it's from the set of Number 23! You cannot go back to school!"

"Why? Because I might drop dead at any second?"

"Yes!"

Burt flinched as Finn's already-loud voice got louder. "Who the hell are you to tell me how I spend the rest of my life?" he screamed. There was a tense pause, and then he spoke again, no longer yelling but still maintaining the same force in his words. "It's my life, Kurt. Mine. And if you think I'm gonna waste the rest of it being pitied and treated like something fragile, then you're a fucking idiot."

Silence stretched between them, and Burt could practically feel Kurt crumbling. He chewed his lip, trying to decide whether or not to intervene. This wasn't like the last time he'd eavesdropped on one of Finn and Kurt's heated disputes – it was deeply personal, but not for either of the Hummels. He wasn't certain how much right he had to be a part of it. The decision became unnecessary, though, as he heard Finn storm up the stairs.

"Everything okay?" he asked when his stepson burst into the hallway.

Finn jumped and whipped around. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Sorry. Is everything okay?" Burt repeated.

"Fine," Finn snapped, turning away and stomping up the stairs to the guest room. Burt heard the door slam and sighed, heading down to the basement.

Kurt was sitting in the armchair in the corner, curled over with his face buried in his hands.

Burt exhaled slowly, and knelt in front of him. "Kurt?" he said softly.

Kurt's shoulders shuddered and he sucked in a huge breath, as if he hadn't inhaled in a while. He raised his head, sniffing and wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm just… God, I'm tired."

"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow," Burt said. "Y'know, take the day off."

The younger Hummel gave a hollow laugh punctuated by a hiccup. "Right. Finn's brain is going haywire and I'm the one who gets a sick day."

"Kurt, you know that Finn's just as scared as you are. If not more."

"I know, and the last thing he needs is me jumping down his throat about it. I know." Kurt sniffed and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"No, he just needs to know that you've got his back, no matter what," Burt assured him, reaching forward to grip his son's shoulder. "And I know you do. But— look at me." Kurt sighed, closing his eyes for a second before forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "But telling him that he should spend what little time he's got left at home does not scream 'supportive'. The only person who can make Finn go against whatever he's decided is Carole, and you and I just don't have a right to try and change his mind. I know that you care about him, Kurt, and believe me, I care about him too. But our job is to make sure that for every second he's got, he is happy. And if that means allowing him a little room for some minor denial, then we have to give him that. We owe him that much."

"I don't mean to be rude, Miss Pillsbury, but…why am I here?"

Emma's eyes grew even wider like they did every time one of the students threw her a curveball. "Well, uh, Finn, I – I know that certain things have come up in your life recently—"

"You mean me having a brain tumor and the fact that I'm gonna die within the month." Finn quirked an eyebrow. "That about sum it up?"

Emma flinched at his casually bitter tone. He was watching her from across the desk with a level, expectant stare and sitting with such passivity that it was frightening. She sighed and forced herself to be as stoic as possible. This was when her job really counted. "How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected."

"And how well is that?"

He chuckled under his breath. "That's a dumb question."

"Maybe so, but the answer is important."

"Did Mr. Schue put you up to this?"

Emma leaned forward on her elbows. "Finn, it is my job to act as someone who students can turn to when they're dealing with tough issues. Issues like what you're going through right now, and I—"

"I'm terminal." He gave an exhausted shrug. "There's nothing more to talk about; I've accepted it. Isn't that what you psychologists are always going on about? Five stages of grief?"

She didn't say anything. In her line of work, Emma had faced down some pretty messed-up things – a girl eating her own hair, a boy who thought it was okay to masturbate in public, kids traumatized by abuse… But this was something she'd never seen before, and it scared the living hell out of her.

"You want me to follow Mr. Schue's example and sing about how brokenhearted I am? How life's too short and you should make the most of it while you can? You want me to – to talk about my feelings with you for an hour a day until I'm six feet under?" He shook his head. "I can't do that. I haven't slept in over two months, and frankly, I don't have the energy to be scared any more."

Emma stared at him, at a loss for what to say.

"Look, Miss P., I really don't think I need to be here, okay? I'm not in denial, I'm not depressed, I'm not angry or anything else that means I need a therapist. There's no issues to dissect here."

She pressed her lips together, studying him. Even if Will hadn't told her what was going on, she still would've called Finn into her office – he looked terrible. Deep shadows were etched into the skin beneath his eyes and he'd lost a considerable amount of weight since the tumor had started to develop – she figured it must be messing with his pituitary gland, and that in combination with the lack of sleep could do some serious damage. Gaunt-faced, with stubble on his chin and a bandage over one eye, he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter.

"Can I go now?" Finn prompted.

Emma gave her head a shake, jolting herself back into real time. "Okay," she said softly. "But my door is always open if you need to talk, you know."

"Yeah. Thanks." He heaved himself to his feet and headed for the door. Two steps into the hall, he stopped in his tracks. "Miss Pillsbury?" he called.

Emma stood and edged around her desk. "Yes?"

He turned around slowly, his face contorted into a frown.

"What is it, Finn?"

"…I can't see."

A/N: *cue dramatic theme* I've just posted a new story titled Planetarium. After you review, you should check it out :D