With a final keystroke, Kurt printed out his final admission essay for college. "C'est fini!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly. As the printer shook back and forth, printing off each of Kurt's essays and applications, Alex sniffed at the desk leg, which was also moving thanks to the vigorous actions of the printer cartridge moving back and forth. Alex got bored when he decided that neither the desk nor the printer were alive (and therefore no fun), so he got up, stretched, and then promptly lay back down again. Kurt stood up, stretching his back. He'd been writing all morning; he had decided to knock out everything for his college applications in one shot, rather than piecing it out. Collecting the semi-final drafts from the printer, he headed off towards the kitchen, where Carol was making lunch. He could hear the quiet 'click, click, click' of Alex's claws hitting the tiled floor behind him. Alex had some pretty horrible separation anxiety and couldn't bear to be left alone. "Hey, Carol, could you look over my essays for me?"

Carol was an avid reader and had a far better grasp on the subtleties of the English language than Kurt's father. She wasn't as good with grammar as Kurt, but a second set of eyes never hurt. Burt Hummel, who was seated at the kitchen table reading through the sport's section of the newspaper, didn't take offense at his son not asking him. On the contrary, he was grateful. Burt Hummel would never consider himself uneducated (though he could be overly modest about his intelligence at times), but he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking he was the next great bard. Reading and writing just weren't his thing. "Sure, sweety. Just put them on the table; I'll get to them after lunch."

Kurt listened to his stepmother and placed them at her traditional seat in the breakfast nook. Burt Hummel glanced over from his newspaper to eye Kurt's papers. "What's Amda?"

"A-M-D-A. It's the American Musical and Dramatic Academy. It's my second choice for college."

Burt frowned, as he glanced over the other papers, looking for college names, logos and other identifying marks. "What's your first pick?"

"Rachel told me about this amazing college named NYADA. Mrs. Pillsbury told her about it at the beginning of the year. It's incredibly competitive, but…you never know." Kurt shrugged, smiling excitedly about the prospect of NYADA.

"What kind of school is NYADA? Liberal arts? Sciences? Languages?"

Kurt rolled his eyes good naturedly at his father's 'ignorance', as if he himself had known all about NYADA for years. "It's the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts."

"Two schools for dramatic arts?"

"Three."

Burt let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Kurt, I've always supported your dreams of being on Broadway and all that…well maybe not always, but I've done my damnedest to support you. But…things have changed. It's all fine and dandy to be a starving artist when you're your only responsibility. But you've got Alex now. You need a real career: something that'll put food on the table. Not some pipe dream."

Kurt's face fell. It broke Burt's heart to see his son look that way, but some things needed to be said. "But…this is what I want out of life."

Burt licked his lips and gathered his thoughts. "I know, buddy. I really do. But this ain't just about you anymore. It ain't ever gonna be just about you, again. You've got a kid to worry about: a kid that's gonna need food, a roof over his head, health care, not to mention all the other little stuff that builds up over time. I know it doesn't sound fair, but how fair is to him if you're in a business that's notorious for being unable to provide steady employment."

"Wolf-"

Burt raised his hand to cut off his son. "Wolf what? Don't you dare say that good-for-nothing is going to provide for you two. You can't even be certain he'll be there for you. All these fancy schools you're looking at, they're in New York. What if Wolf doesn't want to go to New York? Not a whole lot of green spaces out there for a werewolf to run around every full moon."

Kurt looked at Carol for support, backup, anything…but she just stared at the dishrag in her hands. Kurt had a bad feeling that if she did say anything she wouldn't side with Kurt on the matter. Kurt's lip quivered and he snatched up his college application forms and stormed out of the kitchen before he started crying in front of his father. He balled up the papers in his fist and tossed them on the floor before stomping up the stairs. He slammed the door to his bedroom before flinging himself onto his bed and burying his face in his pillows. It wasn't fair. Why did things always have to be like this for him? Couldn't anything ever just go the way he wanted?

There was a scratching at his door followed by a whimper. Alex must have followed him up the stairs. He glared at the door for a minute before he pushed himself up off the bed and went to open it for Alex. His son scampered into the bedroom and tried climbing up onto Kurt's bed. He almost made it the second time, but wound up on his back on the floor. Kurt shook his head and lifted Alex up. "When are you going to stop being so helpless about everything?" Alex cocked his head to the side, his little ears perked up, before he tried reaching out to Kurt with his tongue. Kurt dodged the lick and placed Alex down on the bed. Alex's tongue lolled out and the little pup lowered his front half down so that he was crouching: getting ready to pounce. Kurt placed a hand on Alex's rear and put just enough pressure on it to get him to lie down all the way; Alex toppled onto his side, his tongue still hanging out.

Kurt couldn't bring himself to find Alex cute.

As he fully realized that his life was no longer his own, he started uncovering new feelings he'd never thought he'd feel towards his son before. Strange scary feelings. Kurt rolled onto his back so that he wouldn't have to look at Alex as he allowed himself to cry.

xoxoxo

There was a soft knocking at his door that Kurt ignored. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Not today, at least. Even still, his door opened and he could sense, more than hear, someone come into the room. The bed shifted slightly as someone sat down on the edge of the bed. Somehow, Kurt could tell it was his father, perhaps by his breathing or maybe his scent. Kurt wasn't entirely sure. "You ok, buddy?"

Kurt didn't respond.

"You've been up here an awfully long time." When Kurt still refused to answer, his father continued. "Carol came up here to see what you were doing with Alex about lunch, but you were asleep, so she took him. He's playing with his Kong toy downstairs in the dining room."

"That's fine."

There was a gentle warmth on Kurt's shoulder as Burt placed his hand there. "I know you're upset, Kurt. I get that, I really do. I know it's hard to accept that your life revolves around Alex now, but…that's just how things are. You can't change it, so what choice do you have but to accept it?" When Kurt didn't say anything, Burt rubbed his hand down Kurt's arm. "You gonna be ok?"

"I don't know."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Kurt bit his lip as it started to quiver, again. "I don't know if I can."

"Kurt, you know you can tell me anything."

Kurt didn't answer for a long time. Burt was about to say something to encourage him to speak, when Kurt sat up. Drawing his knees close to his chest, Kurt wrapped his arms around them for comfort. "It's Alex."

"What about him?" Burt moved from rubbing Kurt's arm to rubbing his back.

"I think…I think I hate him." Burt felt a horrific tearing in his chest at those words, but Kurt quickly amended them. "No, it's not hate, but it's something strong, and not good and I can't really describe it. When he was in here and I looked at him, I wanted him to not be here. Not just not here as in my room, but…I don't know…I wanted him gone. Just…gone. I want my life back. I don't want my every action dictated by his needs, his wants. I want to go to school with my friends; I want to be able to go out without having to scrounge up a babysitter; I want to be able to eat without him sitting at my feet begging, or up in my lap trying to snatch food from me; I want to be able to sit, by myself, in my room for five minutes, without him crying for affection."

Burt pulled Kurt closer to him, holding the back of his son's head against his shoulder. "How long have you felt like this? Is this just because of today, or has this been going on a while?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't really know. I first noticed it today, but…it's like the more I think about it, the more I realize I've been sort of feeling it for a while, but I wouldn't let myself feel it, and now everything's bubbling over and…resent. That's the word. I don't hate Alex. I resent him." The word was cathartic to Kurt, allowing him to organize his thoughts and feelings better. He pulled away from his father. "Ever since Alex was born, it feels like I'm not living anymore. And if I am, I'm living through him. All my connections to my friends and my family, they all seem to revolve around Alex. And then when I'm not resenting him, I'm constantly worrying about him. Am I doing everything right? Every time he so much as whimpers, I feel like I'm abusing him someway and it just eats me up, even though I know – I know – I'm doing things right and I think…I think I'm just tired, you know? Alex is up a lot throughout the night, and then this crap with his dad being nocturnal completely throws me for a loop and sets my whole internal schedule off. I think I'm just tired, and it's making me cranky and irritable, and everything that I could normally slough off is sticking with me and making me even more irritated and I'm just…" Kurt waved his hand vaguely in front of himself, trying to indicate his current state of mind.

Burt shook his head and pulled Kurt close again. "No, I don't think 'tired' is the problem. I think tired is just a symptom. I think you have depression…that postpartum depression."

"But I was fine after Alex was born. In fact, most of this, I think, is the past few weeks." Kurt shook his head. "Ever since the damn auditions for West Side Story. At first it was so much fun, but after a while…the hassle of having to deal with shuffling Alex with the rehearsals, everyone constantly asking about him, never how I was doing…after a while, it felt more like I was trying to escape from Alex."

"I don't think it matters that these feelings are new. I think you can get postpartum depression anytime after the baby is born. Look, I know you're probably going to be resistant to the idea, but I think seeing a therapist might help a little. Hell, it could be something as simple as you needing vitamins or doing meditation. Then again, it might not be that simple. Point is, I don't think it's healthy for you to try and go through this on your own."

Kurt was quiet. He wanted to object to the idea of seeing a shrink, but logically he knew it was necessary.

Kurt nodded to his father.

xoxoxo

When Finn got home, the whole family sat down to talk about the feelings Kurt was having. They all seemed in agreement that a therapist was the best option for Kurt.

Carol had put Alex to sleep for the night, but Kurt felt compelled to look in on him. He waited until everyone else was asleep; he didn't want to talk to anyone. Carol had mentioned during the family meeting that some people with postpartum depression think about hurting themselves or the baby. Kurt assured her that the thought had never crossed his mind; the thought of Alex being hurt in any way revolted him. He still didn't want people questioning why he was in Alex's nursery so late at night, though.

Alex was flat on his stomach in the crib, his little legs pointed in every direct – just like when he was a newborn. The blanket had shifted over him so that it covered his eyes. Kurt pulled the blanket down slightly before tucking it under his sides. He ran the backside of his fingers over Alex's fur, watching the little pup shift under his touch. "I still love you, you know. You're my world. I'm just…there's something wrong with me right now. I'll never stop loving you Alex."