Burt can barely think. It just doesn't make sense, and he almost wishes his kid was just seeking attention, but he knows, instinctively, that Kurt is not looking for attention; he'd gone pale the moment he'd said it and then, when Burt had failed to respond right away, had fled to his room.

The slam of the door is nowhere near as loud as the slide of the lock.

She smells. Burt picks up the phone. I hate her. He can't even force himself to sit down, he's so angry. If you make me go, I'll run away! The phone beeps loudly in his ear, the ringing making him grind his teeth together. She hit me!

"Hello?" Mildred's voice is slurred, and Burt clenches the phone tighter.

"Mildred," Burt starts, and she lets out a pleased sound at his voice, but it quickly fades to silence when he continues, "Did you hit my son?"

He doesn't care for small talk, not if it's true. If it's true, he'd bet good money he'll never speak to his sister again.

She stays silent for a long time. Too long. "Well?" he demands.

"You weren't going to do it," she sighs, "Somebody has to beat the gay out of that boy before–"

"We won't be coming for a visit. Goodbye, Mildred."

"Now, Burt, don't overreact," she says, the eye-roll apparent even through the phone line.

"Overreact! How dare you!" he shouts, hollering into the phone, but he knows that shouting will just scare Kurt now, so he pulls himself together, "Don't call here, Mildred."

She protests again, but he slides his finger over the phone and hangs up on her. He's barely made it three steps towards Kurt's door when his son shouts up for him to go away. "Okay, son," he says, pressing his fingers to his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, just in case his son comes up, "We aren't going to Mildred's, okay?"

Kurt doesn't say anything, and Burt knows he's not going to come upstairs, so he slides to the floor in their back landing and stares at the phone. Idly, he flicks through the recently called numbers. Their phone keeps the previous ten numbers listed, ready for reuse, and Burt nearly laughs when he realizes James Berry's number is still on the phone, even after six months.

How pathetic is it that he's dialled less than ten numbers in six months? He hits the green button and the phone starts dialling.

"Hello?"

"My sister hit him," he pauses, listening to James moving somewhere.

The sound of a door closing reaches him, and then James' smooth voice drifts through the line, "Alright, I'm alone now."

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I just needed somebody to talk to, figure out how to deal with this."

James sighs, but he doesn't hang up.