Reality came crashing down around him, bringing embarrassment and shame with it. He'd just pissed in his clothes like a toddler. It was only his uniform, not anything he cared about, but still. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday; more than old enough to control himself. He felt pathetic.
Kurt flushed and zipped himself back up, getting a good look at the front of his pants. There was no way he'd be able to lie about it; it was obvious he'd had an accident. Thankfully, it didn't trail too far down his legs. He draped his blazer over his arm in front of him like a shield. If he could get to his room without running into his family, he should be okay. He'd had accidents as a little kid, and he didn't want to run into his dad and have him think they were happening again. He opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, only to run right into Finn, who was holding the messenger bag he'd tossed when he bolted through the door.
"Dude, are you okay? I've never seen you move that fast before," he asked, holding out Kurt's bag to him. He took it carefully, not letting his other hand move his blazer. They may be brothers now, but Finn was still a jock. Kurt still wasn't sure he trusted him completely.
"Thanks. I'm fine. I just really needed to pee." He moved past Finn as he answered him, feeling his face redden. Kurt didn't know how Finn couldn't smell the urine all over him. He felt soaked in it. His pants were getting cold and his skin itchy, and there was nothing he wanted more than a shower. A long, scalding hot shower. And a nap. The strain on his body for the past hours must have been catching up with him, because he was absolutely exhausted.
"Don't they have bathrooms at Dalton?" Finn asked, and Kurt rolled his eyes. He would laugh at him, except the tone of Finn's voice made Kurt think he was asking a serious question, not just making a joke.
"Yes, Finn, they do, but I don't get a chance to use them in between classes, and if I want to catch my bus, so that I don't have to call you and have you drive all the way out there to pick me up, I pretty much have to run for it from last period." With that, Kurt goes into his room, closing the door behind him.
He tosses the blazer and bag onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off. It hadn't survived the assault; the bottom hem in the front was soaked. Kurt tossed it into an empty laundry basket, planning to throw his ruined clothes into the washer as soon as he was out of the shower. He walked over to his dresser, pulling out the pair of old sweatpants he usually wore when he wasn't feeling well and one of his dad's old t-shirts he normally wore when he worked down at the shop. He didn't even look to see if they matched. He felt dirty and the wetness on his skin was uncomfortably itchy. He wanted to shower and take a nap, hopefully for a few hours. He could worry about fashion then. Right now he wanted clean, comfortable, and dry. He tossed the clean clothes onto his bed and toed out of his loafers. Just as he unbuckled his belt, the door swung open, and Finn barged in.
"Dude, Mom called earlier and said she's gonna be late, and for us to order a pizza for dinner, so what do you want on it?" He looked up from the pizza menu in his hand to Kurt.
"Uh...dude...why are your pants wet?" He looked at Kurt for a minute, and he could almost see the gears in Finn's brain turning, connecting everything that had happened since Kurt got home. Finn's eyes went wide and he started to stutter. "I'm just gonna...go. I mean leave! Leave...yeah. Let me know when you want some pizza." With that stunning display of communication skills, he backed out of Kurt's room, closing the door behind him.
It took a few minutes for Kurt to realize he was standing and staring at the closed door. He wanted to cry, or scream, or hit Finn for barging in on him without knocking for the millionth time. Finn didn't know Kurt had accidents when he was younger, and he sure as hell didn't want him to know that he'd had one now. His mind was racing and he had to slap himself in the face to get a grip and calm down. He stripped the rest of his clothes off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and got into his en suite shower.
He soaped himself up quickly, scrubbing his skin with a hard loofah, until it was red and raw and pin pricks of blood were coming up in a few spots. He tried but couldn't scrub hard enough to make the feelings of disgust go away. He stood under the shower head, letting the hot water run over his body, and cried. He cried until his eyes were scratchy and the water was freezing. He'd hoped a shower would make things alright. It didn't.
Kurt went back to his room, dressed, and sprawled out on his bed. He was worn out, and fell asleep within seconds of his still-wet head hitting the pillow.
He felt a bit better when he woke up. He was still mortified to have had an accident at his age, but he's just happy it hadn't happened on the bus or in class, and that the only other person who knew was Finn. He got up, remembering his laundry basket of soiled clothes and carried them down to the washer in the basement. His stomach rumbled as he started the machine, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while.
Kurt went upstairs to the kitchen and washed his hands. There was a pizza box on the counter so he looked to see what Finn had ordered for them. Deep-dish pepperoni and sausage, extra grease. Needless to say, Kurt was not interested.
He rummaged around in the fridge and the cabinets for a bit, coming up with an almost empty jar of peanut butter and some celery. He was sitting on the counter scraping the peanut butter out of the jar, using the celery like a spoon, when Finn walked in. Kurt did his best to not look at him, to just ignore him, but Finn wasn't having that.
"Are you okay, Kurt? Earlier. What happened?" he asked, and Kurt's impressed. He almost sounded like he actually cared. If he hadn't spent last year throwing Kurt into the dumpster behind the cafeteria everyday with Puck, he might have believed he did.
"Nothing happened. I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt still wouldn't look at him, but he didn't leave either. "It's not like you give a shit about me anyways, so just drop the act, okay?" That last bit came out bitchier than he'd intended, and he cringed. Actually, he hadn't meant to say it at all. It sort of slipped out. No control. Seemed to be the theme of his day. Kurt didn't apologize. Even though he'd just woken up, he was still tired. Kurt's brain-to-mouth filter had to still be asleep.
"I'm sorry you think that. And maybe last year, yeah, you would have been right. Things change, Kurt. People change. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I'd like to think I'm better than that. We may not be blood, but we're family now. And no matter what, family comes first. You're my brother, Kurt. I've got your back now, no matter what. I thought that meant I was your brother too." Finn's voice cracked as he spoke, and Kurt glanced up at him. He looked hurt. Genuinely, honestly hurt, which only made Kurt feel worse. "I guess I was wrong."
Finn turned to leave and Kurt doesn't know why, but he stops him. "You really want to know? Fine. I'll tell you." So he does. Kurt can feel how red his face is the entire time, but he tells him everything. And Finn doesn't laugh at him. Not once.
Kurt finished off his story and the peanut butter at the same time, yawning as hopped down from the counter. He opened the cabinet under the sink to toss the empty jar in the bin and when he stood up, Finn was hugging him. Kurt froze for a minute, waiting for Finn to do whatever it was that he was going to do, to run Kurt's head under the faucet or something, but it was just a hug. Once Kurt figured out that Finn isn't trying to mess with him, he relaxed into it, and it actually felt nice. People didn't hug Kurt often. They're afraid of him, like gay was contagious or something. They only touched him to make him hurt.
Finn pulled away when Kurt yawned again. "Go back to bed. You need it. I'll keep the volume down." Kurt nodded and thanked him as he headed back to his room. He spends the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed, reading his book for English, until he fell asleep with it laying open on his chest.