"Sometimesabreakdowncanbethebeginningofakindofbreakthrough,awayoflivinginadvancethroughatraumathatpreparesyouforafutureofradicaltransformation."
CherrieMoraga
Over the next week, Finn changed completely. According to Dad, he was undergoing a 'sea change', which was a major transformation. In my opinion, the only thing he was doing was making us seasick.
He was less docile, less calm. He didn't want to hang around with me all the time any more, and a lot of the time, he didn't want to hang around me at all. He would rather sit alone in the basement or the back room, studying the walls and rocking himself from foot to foot. It was creepy to watch, and, for the first time, I was wondering if Finn was as disturbed as everyone else seemed to think he was. He certainly appeared that way.
It had all started going downhill the day after Mercedes and I had gone to the spa, which was the day Quinn Fabray had decided to come over for an unexpected visit. I hadn't wanted her to see Finn at all, but I hadn't really had any reason to deny her access. The best I had been able to do was stall her while I went downstairs to ask Finn if he would like some company.
Unfortunately, he had been enthusiastic about seeing her, and I had been forced to allow her inside. Finn had come racing up the stairs to see her, only to halt so suddenly that he almost tripped over his own feet once they were actually in the same room. He froze, still staring at her, and I had no idea what his problem was or how to fix it.
They might have stood there forever, except Quinn put her fingers to her mouth, looking like she was going to start crying at any second. The she reached out for him and whispered "Oh, Finn."
That seemed to break whatever spell Finn was under, and he crept forward to wrap his arms around her. He didn't cry of course, since Finn didn't cry in front of anyone but me these days, but she did. Looking at them, I was reminded of all the times I had seen him hold her like that during the early days of her pregnancy, when he had been convinced that he was going to be a father. I felt unaccountably like a creeper, like I was intruding where I wasn't needed, so I excused myself from the room.
As it turned out, that had probably been a mistake. Quinn had stayed close to two hours, and I stubbornly remained downstairs for the entire visit, doing and redoing my nails until I had filed them down to practically nothing. I went to the top of the stairs twice, but couldn't hear anything, so I finally gave up and laid down on my bed to sulk. Now that Quinn was back in the picture and sexy again despite having given birth, the two of them were probably upstairs making out.
That isn't a bad thing, Kurt. You wanted Finn to be more social and less dependant on you, so don't complain when it actually happens. He needs you, yes, but he's going to need everyone if he's going to get through this intact.
Yes, that was true, but it still kind of hurt my feelings that Finn had dropped me like a hot rock as soon as a better (read: more popular) option came along. I wasn't sure exactly when I fell asleep, but I was woken up by Finn's footsteps on the stairs. He stared at me what felt like forever, not making any effort to communicate. I sat up, feeling heavy and groggy. "What's up, Cowboy?"
He stared for another minute or two, then abruptly threw himself down on his bed, curling up on his side and shutting me out. Still confused, I went over to his bed and laid my hand on his shoulder. "Finn?"
He jerked away, his muscles going rigid under my touch. I pulled back as if he had struck me, startled by his reaction. The only other time I could remember him doing that was Before, when I had tried to help him get the KISS make-up off of his face. "Are you feeling alright?
In response, Finn squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapping tightly around his body. He couldn't have said 'leave me alone' any more clearly if he had screamed it at the top of his lungs, so I backed off. "Ok. I'll be upstairs if you need me."
He didn't respond at all, so I left him there to his own thoughts. As soon as I got upstairs, I dialed Quinn. Finn had been fine before I left them alone together, and now he was worse then when we had first gotten him back. She picked up on the third ring. "Kurt? What's up?" She sounded guilty, and I knew that she had done something wrong.
"What did you do to Finn?" My voice was as bitchy as I could make it.
"Nothing." There was no lie in her voice, but I knew that she knew more then she was saying. "I just talked to him for a while and caught him up on what I had been doing this summer. I thought that he might talk to me, but he didn't."
"Then why is he all curled up downstairs right now, acting like he doesn't even know who I am?" Now I sounded less bitchy and more scared.
She was quiet for a long time, and if it hadn't been for her breathing, I would have thought that I had lost the connection. "Quinn?"
"I'm not exactly sure what his problem is, but I can guess."
I waited, but nothing else came out. "And what is it that you guess his problem is?"
"He just….he seemed really confused when he saw that I wasn't pregnant any more. He just kept looking at my stomach and wanting to touch it, even after I showed him pictures of Beth. I think he expected that things would be the same for him as they were before, and he didn't know what to do when he realized that they weren't. He just kept looking at the pictures like he didn't know what to do with them."
Her theory made sense. "You didn't say anything to him about Puck did you?"
"Kurt, I might be blond and a Cheerio, but I'm not a moron. Nor am I cruel. I just talked to him about a little of the Glee gossip, and told him how much I had missed him. He wasn't that upset when I left." Her voice wavered between bitching and heartbroken.
Whether or not she was cruel was debatable, considering that I remembered her tearing down Rachel's Youtube videos, and, while she had never directly laid a hand on me, I knew that she had encouraged other people to. But that was an issue for another time. "I have to go. Some of us have to deal with the fallout of you running your mouth." It was horribly rude, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
Finn wasn't asleep when I went downstairs, but he was still curled up and ignoring me. I sat on the edge of his bed. "Finn, did Quinn say something to upset you? Is it because of the baby?"
He didn't open his eyes, but he grew even more tense, to the point of starting to tremble. I wanted to help him, but I had no idea how. So I patted his back and told him that I would be upstairs if he wanted company, otherwise I would leave him to his nap.
And that pretty much summed up the last five days. Finn slept almost constantly, and wouldn't get out of bed when he was awake. If he was forced (and by forced, I meant Carole tipped the mattress until he rolled off it then turned it so it was on its side and he couldn't climb back into bed), he move restlessly around the house, seeming to be in a trance. He wouldn't fight any of us, because that would take too much energy and caring. This was a passive rebellion, a sign that Finn had given up.
In addition to his moping, Finn quit showering and brushing his teeth, and Carole had to coax him to eat. He had completely stopped living, and nothing we did seemed to help.
Dr. Hayden came over on day five, and he refused to go up and see her. Undeterred, she marched down to the basement and conducted her session from there. We all respected Finn's privacy while she did so, but were waiting for her when she came back up. Carole broke the silence. "Is he going to be alright?"
"Honestly? I don't know. I think that this has all come crashing down for Finn, and that's very difficult for him. Do any of you know what may have happened to upset him?"
Both Dad and Carole looked at me, and I shrank down under their stares. Even though they both kept reassuring me that it wasn't my fault that Finn was doing so poorly, that I had no way of knowing what would happen, I was still the one who had let Quinn into the house, so it was all my fault.
Because keeping Finn in the basement, isolated from everyone who can possibly upset him is a viable option. That's going to make him mentally healthy, now isn't it? Quit second guessing everything you do. It's not helping and it's making you a nervous wreck.
Hesitantly I explained what had happened with Quinn. She nodded. "Kurt, this isn't your fault. Carole, you've already told me that you feel like Finn's been in denial about what happened, and I agreed. It's less stressful for Finn to pretend that nothing ever happened. To him, it's just like time has stopped. The four months he was missing? Never happened. Puck? Not dead."
Dad seemed confused. "That seems like a lot of mental gymnastics for one 17 year old."
"It is. Maintaining such an elaborate fantasy takes an enormous amount of mental energy. It may be one of the reasons that he isn't talking. Talking increases the chances that he comes out with something that disrupts the illusion. By not talking, he's drawing you into his world, instead of you making him come into yours."
"Then Quinn came." It was all falling into place for me.
"Yes, then Quinn came. In his mind, she's 7 months pregnant. But in reality, she isn't. Not only is she not pregnant, she's showing him pictures of a three month old baby, telling him that the baby is hers. Finn's fantasy world, which was never very stable, because it wasn't real, comes crashing down. Now he has to admit that, yes, those five months are gone, and, in doing so, he has to admit what happened to him. It's not an easy thing for him to do. Believe it or not, though, this is a step in the right direction for him, as difficult as it is."
"What do we do now?" The words must have been on all of our minds, but it was Carole who spoke.
"Love him. I know that you already do, but remind him of that fact as often as you can. That, no matter what happened; it doesn't change how you feel about him. Keep him with you as much as possible and be very gentle with him. Finn's not out of touch with reality, he's just trying to sort it all out in his own mind, and decided where he goes from here."
No one wanted to ask the question that hung heavily in the air: What if he can't cope with it all? Teenagers committed suicide every day, and over traumas far less then what Finn was going through. I couldn't make myself voice the words, though, as if saying them would give them power.
Dr. Hayden continued on. "Since Finn seems to be so affected, I'm going to prescribe a mild dose of antianxiety medication for him. It should help take the edge off and allow him to deal with things better."
This was real. They were actually talking about putting Finn on medication, because he had gotten so bad. Finn, my Finn, my hero and my first crush, was falling apart, and there was nothing I could do to fix him. The thought was actually painful, and I swallowed hard. Why was I never good enough for Finn?
Your ego astounds me. Are you really whining about your straight friend/brother/crush/whatever you want to call him not returning your feelings when he's just trying to stay sane? Nice, Kurt, real nice. Why don't you try focusing on him for right now, and leave yourself out of it?
"If Finn doesn't start getting better, even with the medication, you may want to consider a brief out of home placement for him. Just until we can get him eating normally and taking care of himself again."
The words themselves were spoken so softly and calmly that they took a minute to settle in. She wanted to put Finn in a mental ward. Even Finn's doctor thought that he was crazy. "No." The word came out before I could stop it. "No, that's not even an option."
"Kurt." Dad's voice was a warning, but I wasn't going to stop.
"No! She wants to put Finn in the loony bin, and no one else is saying not to. You just want to get rid of Finn because he doesn't like you!" The words hung in the air, despite my frantic efforts to call them back.
"Kurt, that isn't fair. We're all trying to determine what's best for Finn, and getting angry isn't going to help." This was why we had a doctor in the room, because she was the only thing keeping us from blowing up. "No one wants to put Finn in the 'loony bin'. A short stay in a residential treatment hospital is a last resort in a case like his, but it is something that has to be considered. We're going to try medication first, and see if he pulls out of it on his own. There's a very fine line between taking him out of the house to help him, and just reinforcing the trauma of being forcibly taken from home."
I appreciated being spoken to like an adult, even if all I wanted to do was start crying like a little kid. "Finn needs to stay here, with us." My tone was all toddler.
I looked over at Carole for support, but she wasn't looking at me or Dad. She was looking at the doctor. "Can I pick up his prescription today? It would be better if you could get it in a liquid, because he sometimes has trouble swallowing pills."
Did she really not care that the doctor was talking about institutionalizing her son? Why was I the only one who seemed to care about keeping Finn at home?
Because she's living in reality, and you aren't. You want to be enough for Finn, to make him better, but you can't. Carole knows that Finn needs more then the family can give him. She doesn't want him gone, so she's doing whatever she can to keep him home. Getting him started on medication is the first step.
I leaned back and started pitifully at Dad. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me to say. I know that you don't want to get rid of Finn." It was true. As badly as Finn frustrated Dad sometimes, we were a family, and we stuck together.
"I know." He gestured. "Why don't you go downstairs and let Finn know that his mother and I are going to the pharmacy at Wal-Mart, so if he wants something, he needs to let us know."
What he actually meant was that he wanted me out of the room, so the adults could discuss Finn in more depth. I considered spying on them, but decided to go down and sit with Finn instead. Maybe all he needed was a good shock.
Finn was lying in bed, but not sleeping. I could tell for sure, because he wasn't this still when he was asleep. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, not surprised when he didn't acknowledge that I existed. With a shaky finger, I poked him in the shoulder. "Finn."
He didn't respond, so I poked him again, harder this time. "Finn, I know you aren't asleep, so get the fuck up."
I very seldom swore, since it's a sign not only of poor breeding, but a lack of imagination as well. Finn knew that, and the shock caused one of his eyes to pop open. I laid down next to him so our faces were almost touching. "You need to get out of his bed." My voice was a strict command.
Unfortunately, it didn't do much. Finn just closed his eye again and went back to pretending he was anywhere but here. I shook him again. "Get your ass up right now Finnegan. Dad and Carole are way too polite to say anything, but you reek! You've been lying in that bed, in those same disgusting pajamas for five days. Get up and take a shower. I'll make you a bacon club and red Doritos for lunch." That was Finn's favorite.
He didn't move. "Finn, now." I was using my toughest voice, the one that even made Karofsky back down sometimes, but he wasn't biting. Instead he went completely limp, blocking me out. I tugged his body, but he was too heavy to move. "I'm not kidding Finnegan."
Still nothing, and I felt a black rage bubble up in my chest. I leaned my face back down in his. "Finn, do you realize what's at stake here? They are getting ready to send you away."
Now both eyes were open, and he was staring at me with something akin to fear. It should have made me feel bad, but it only made me more angry. If Finn wanted to play rough, fine. I could play rough, too. "That's right, Finn. If you don't get out of this bed, and start acting normal, there going to send you off to a mental ward."
Kurt! This isn't going to help, and it's cruel besides. Remember what I told you about your plans blowing up in your face? Yeah, this would be one of those plans.
But I was too far gone to stop. "I'm sure they'll let us visit once a week, though, so it's not like we'll be out of your life. Of course, it will be a locked ward-"Those were the magic words, and Finn shot upright, his entire body slamming back against the headboard. He shook his head frantically, obviously terrified at the thought of being locked up anywhere.
Stop it now!
Except Finn was finally responding to me, for the first time in five days. I patted his chest, feeling his heart jack hammering against my hand. "It's ok, it's ok." I waited until he stopped breathing so hard, then leaned my forehead against this. "You know, you could stop that from happening. All you have to do is talk. Not much, just a word or two. Then I'll bet they would stop talking about the mental hospital."
It was terrible and I knew it, but I couldn't make myself stop. Plus, it was true. There wasn't a thing wrong with Finn physically, it was all mental. He could damn well talk, and, if he did, it would end the discussions about institutionalizing him. I pushed helplessly against him, feeling the tightness in my own chest. "Talk, Finn!"
Tears welled up in his dark eyes, but he didn't speak. Instead he shook his head miserably. The utter desperation on his face cooled my anger. "Please, Finn, just talk." Now I was crying, too, and the guilt of what I was doing became overwhelming. "Please." My voice cracked on the last word.
If this had been the movies, that would have been enough to unlock Finn's voice. He would have spoken immediately, telling me how much he loved me, and that he appreciated my support over the past few weeks. Then he would tell me exactly what had happened to him, and give me the name of the man who had taken him. After his arrest, Dad would marry Carole, and we would be a real family.
And unicorns will fart rainbows during the ceremony. Nothing is going to make Finn improve but time and a lot of work. This isn't the movies, and nothing is going to be resolved in two and a half hours.
I was crying freely now, and I let my head drop against Finn's chest. For a second he was still, then he wrapped his arms around my back, hugging my body against his. I squeezed him back, still crying into his old, disgusting T-shirt. I hadn't been lying when I told him that he smelled repulsive, but that didn't matter any more.
"I'm sorry, Finn, I'm sorry." My voice was whisper soft. "Please don't be mad, you don't have to talk, you don't have to do anything, just don't be mad at me, ok?"
"Shhh, shhh, shhh." The air blew across my ear in a soft hiss. I froze. It wasn't words, but it was a deliberate sound, and it was directed at me. The only thing I had gotten from him before was a grunt, and this was more then that.
I had to be sure. "I'm really sorry, Finn." I rubbed my cheek against his neck, wiping away the tears that were starting to itch as they dried on my face.
Finn rested his chin on top of my head. "Shhh." Now that I was listening for it, it was obvious that he was trying to comfort me.
See? He's trying to as hard as he can, which is more then you deserve, considering your behavior. Now quit tormenting him.
"Thank you, Finn. I'm better now, I promise." I picked my head up and forced a smile. "See? No more crying."
He smiled back, but I could tell that it was forced as well. Apparently my acting had become so bad that I wasn't even fooling Finn. He hugged me again, and this time my smile was genuine. I pushed off of him and laid down so we were side by side. "You know what, Finn?"
His head cocked and he shrugged his shoulders, asking me what I was thinking about. "You are the sweetest guy in the entire world. You're nice to everyone, whether they deserve it or not. That's a rare trait and it makes you an incredibly special person."
I could tell that I had his full attention, and I was unwilling to let him lapse back into the depression that had been consuming him over the past few days. Shameless flattery never hurt. "And you're pretty darn tough. I wouldn't have been able to make it through what you have."
A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he thought that one over. After a minute, he pointed and me and flexed his biceps. He thought I was really tough, too. I patted his shoulder. "That's very kind of you." I pushed lightly at his arm, which had come to rest on my shoulder. "Let me up for a minute."
He did, but I could feel his eyes trained on my back as I went into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the tap. My reflection was bleary eyed and tearstained, looking like I had been to Hell and back. I scrubbed at my face with the washcloth, which didn't help much, then rinsed it again and brought it back over to Finn. "Here, wipe your face off."
He did so without complaint, erasing the tear tracks that were streaking his face. It made him look a little better, even though he was still far too pale. "Do you want that sandwich? I'll bring it down and sit with you while you eat."
After what felt like a million years, he nodded slightly. I took the washcloth back and patted his shoulder. "They won't send you anywhere, I promise. If they try, I won't let them."
His smile was tense and worried, but it was a start. "You rest for a while, and I'm going to get you some lunch."
Carole hadn't left yet, since she had misplaced her keys and was scouring the kitchen for them. "I swear I put them on the counter, just like always, but now they're gone. Things just get up and walk off in this house and-Kurt! Did Finn want anything?" She didn't have much hope in her voice. Finn hadn't wanted much since he came back, and nothing for the past few days.
It felt good to be able to report good news for once. "He wants some lunch. I'm going to make him a sandwich, and he said he would eat."
"He did? He's actually going to eat without me standing over him for every bite?" She didn't ask if he had talked, since we both knew that he hadn't. Her arms came around me in a tight hug. "Kurt, you're a miracle worker!"
She wouldn't think that if she had heard me terrorizing Finn a few minutes ago. But I was too ashamed to admit that and risk having her be angry with me. I had become to dependant on her hugs, and her questioning me about my day and the way she made the house come to life again. "No, I'm not. He didn't say he wanted anything from the store."
The nice thing about Carole was that she always seemed to know when to push and when not to. Something about my face (most likely the guilt that I knew was written all over it) told her that I wasn't in the mood for praise right now, and she respected that. She did, however, kiss the top of my head. "You're such a good boy."
Funny how I never got tired of hearing her say those words, whether I deserved them or not. "Thank you." I cursed my pale skin yet again, knowing that I had turned bright red. "I'm going to start on Finn's lunch."
I wanted everything to be perfect, so Finn wouldn't have any excuse to not eat. He liked the bacon crispy but not burned, and it was tricky to get it just right. While it cooked, I toasted the bread and found some leftover turkey in the fridge. A few slices of cheese and some lettuce and I had managed to make a pretty decent looking sandwich. If you didn't care about your heart or cholesterol, that was. I took a knife out of the butcher block and cut the sandwich in quarters. Now it was perfect.
I fished a coke out of the fridge and grabbed the entire bag of red Doritos out of the cabinet. Now I just had to hope that he hadn't gone back to sleep, and that he would still be interested in food.
To my great surprise, Finn not only wasn't asleep, he had gotten out of bed and taken a shower. His hair was still wet and I could see a trail of water from the bathroom to where he was sitting, but I didn't find that as obnoxious as I usually did.
He was wearing clean clothes (still pajamas, but it was at least a small victory) and had actually stripped his bed down. Apparently he had run out of steam before getting clean sheets on, because he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, quiet and still, one hand mechanically patting the fabric.
I put on my happiest face, which I was finding easier now that Finn was back in the land of the living. "Lunch is here!" I set the tray on the nightstand between the beds. "Now, if I let you sit on my bed to eat, can I trust you not to get Dorito crumbs all over the comforter? I mean it Finn, if I find bacon on my pillow, I will…. I will make you listen to nothing but Lady Gaga for the next month." I had to pause because it was difficult to think of a threat that Finn would hate, but that wouldn't utterly terrify him.
Finn thought seriously for a minute, then held up two fingers in a 'scouts honor' gesture. I narrowed my eyes. "Were you actually a boy scout?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Ok, you can eat on my bed while I put some clean sheets on yours. Did you put the dirty ones in the washer?"
The guilty look in his eyes told me that he hadn't. I wasn't finding Finn as difficult to read these days as I had when he first came back, but I wasn't sure if it was because he was being less guarded, or I was just better at figuring out the minute cues. "Never mind, I'll do it."
There were going to be crumbs all over my bed, despite what Finn had promised, but it would still be better then either letting him eat on the white couch, or making him eat on the floor like a dog. And I guessed that a few crumbs were well worth having Finn back, instead of the zombie that had been occupying his body for the past few days.
Finn watched while I remade his bed, taking care to fix the comforter and arrange the pillows how he liked them. "Next time you're doing that yourself, so I hope you were watching. You're seventeen now, Finn, and it's not fair to your mother to be doing this all the time. In two years, you'll be in college, and no one is going to make your bed for you then. I know that you've been doing very well at stripping the sheets, which is an improvement, but you need to be able to bet fresh ones on, too."
He rolled his eyes, and I just knew that if no one made Finn's bed for him, it wouldn't get made at all. I gestured to the untouched plate in his hands. "Well? Are you going to eat that or not?"
He didn't seem sure, and I realized that I had no idea how Carole had been convincing him to eat his other meals. As much as I loved the boy (and I was rapidly concluding that I still loved him far more then was good for me), I was not going to hand feed him when he was perfectly capable of picking up the food on his own. After what felt like forever, he popped the top on the coke and took a deep drink. Then he picked up one of the quarters and held it out to me. "No, I'm not hungry. That's your food and you should be eating it."
With a deep sigh, he offered it again. "Do you think I'm going to poison you?"
I regretted saying it the minute his eyes widened. With an exaggerated huff of air, I threw myself down next to him and took a quick bite of the offered piece. Damn, I made a good sandwich. "See? It's good and you can eat now. Don't even try and convince me to sample those chips, because I won't do it. They are nothing but artificially flavored, preservative filled, cardboard."
Finn grabbed a chip and made a big show of eating it, complete with exaggerated chomping and rubbing his stomach. I rolled my eyes. "Chew with your mouth closed, you Neanderthal."
That, of course, earned me a soundless laugh and an even more disgusting view of the half chewed orange goop in his mouth. "Ug, Finn, really? Is this what turns girls on? Seeing pulverized chips rolling around on your uvula? Thank Prada for homosexuality, because there is no way I could possibly ever be so crude."
Finn froze; his mouth snapping closed, and looked at me for what seemed like forever. I looked back, not sure what had happened. "What?"
He didn't respond, just looked at me with big, dark, eyes. I mentally reran what I had just said and could have kicked myself. While my gayness was rather (ok, excruciatingly) obvious to anyone who spend more then 15 minutes talking to me, I had never come out and just said it like that before. At least not to Finn. I had assumed that he knew, but, then again this was Finn, who tended to be beyond oblivious. "Yeah, you caught me. I'm gay. But you already knew that didn't you?" My voice was trying to crack again, but I compelled it to be steady.
One hand flipped up, and he made two quick signs. I no. Trust Finn to figure out how to shorten even his signs. Text speak for signing.
"So, if you already know, what's they big deal? You're acting like it's something shocking."
Naturally, Finn had to take a few bites of his lunch while he thought about it, while my stomach drew into tighter and tighter knots. He wasn't screaming or shoving me off the bed or trying to run, and hadn't made any attempt to hit me, so he must not have been too upset. Finally he wiped his hands (on my bedspread! My beautiful, beautiful designer bedspread. Had it been anyone but Finn, I would have been currently concealing a murder.) and pointed to me.
Great, we were playing charades again. "I". He nodded and made the quick flapping gesture near his mouth. "said." Another nod and he sat back, clearly finished. "I said what?"
He repeated the signs, waiting patiently for me to catch up to him. "I said…that I was gay? Oh, this is the first time I've actually said it to you." Sometimes Finn thinks that I'm a lot smarter then I actually am, and that I can almost read his mind.
You haven't exactly been doing a bad job of it.
Yes. Finn hadn't moved from his position of laying against my headboard, but he was watching me very intently.
I wanted to reach out to him, but I folded my hands in my lap instead. "Is that a problem?" Please, please let it not be a problem.
Finn thought about it for a long time, though probably not as long as it felt to me. For a few minutes, he stared at me, but then he fixated on the wall, his eyes distant and sad. His head shook, then nodded, then shook again, as if he was having a conversation with an invisible partner.
Something was happening here, something I didn't understand. As hard as I thought back, I couldn't remember Finn ever indicating that he had a problem with gay people. He had tolerated my crush on him gently at first, even when it made him uncomfortable. He didn't start pushing me away until I escalated things on him.
Think, Kurt. Think really hard. Why would Finn have a bigger problem with gay people now then he did before. Think about what your father told you, what you heard at the hospital, what you know, deep in your heart.
I did know, but I wasn't sure if I should bring it up to Finn. I was so far out of my depth here that, as my tantrum of just an hour ago had proven, I had no idea what would help and what would hurt.
You and everyone else. Try something; because the two of you are about so get stuck in this loop, you staring at him and him staring at the wall until your parents get home. Then nothing will be solved and you problems will just end up festering until they explode.
It was a sobering thought, so I reached out and touched Finn's arm. He jumped, like he had forgotten I was even here. "Gay doesn't equal rapist, you know."
His dark eyes rolled over and caught mine, staring deeply and without emotion. "I won't hurt you, Finn."
Now there was the tiniest flicker in his expression, an emotion that I couldn't name, and that was gone as quickly as it appeared. Something swirled behind his eyes, but what was it? A denial? A name? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to let it loose.
I hated to push, but I had to see this through to the end. "I'm not like him, I won't hurt you. I would never touch you if you said not to. Ever." It was the first time that any of us had even hinted about what might have happened to him during the long months he had been away.
Finn heaved out a shuddery breath, but his eyes never left mine. Whatever he was thinking, I was getting through to him. "Do you understand me?" I kept my voice gentle, and my body away from his. "Finn, do you understand what I'm telling you?"
He nodded, very slowly. Then he slid off the bed, abandoning his plate, and walked towards the stairs. I let him go, because he obviously needed to be alone right now, to think and figure out what had just happened.
Once he hit the bottom of the staircase Finn turned around and pointed at first me, then himself. Then he twisted his pointer and middle finger together. I could almost hear his voice behind the gesture, with that laughing sincerity he always gave me. You and me, Kurt, we're tight. No matter what else, we're ok.
It wasn't a confirmation of what I had just said, but it wasn't a denial either. Whatever it was, it was a step forward in our relationship, one less secret held between us. I just hoped that that would be enough.