Chapter 8

But reality has a way of catching up with people. And every visit they paid to the Keller Army Community Hospital reminded Kurt and Rachel fiercely of that.

Finn seemed to be stuck in a sleepless slumber; he answered in monosyllables and never spoke first. Even his appointed therapist was unable to force him to talk, proving any therapy utterly pointless. So the psychiatrist only sighed heavily, prescribing one antidepressant after another, one anti-anxiety drug after another. What nobody in the hospital staff had yet discovered was that Finn refused to take any drugs at all, and became quite skillful at deception and stuffing all his pills under his mattress – and throwing them out before an orderly would come to change the bed and find them.

Carole tried reaching out to him, pleading him to talk to her, to the therapist, to anybody at all. Everything in vain. Burt was still away, and his wife could do nothing but cry into the phone, with him listening and yearning to hold her on the other end of the line. Kurt took it upon himself to spend as much time with his step-mother as possible, but between his classes and her visits to West Point, there was not much time anyway.

But he could clearly see Carole needed a break; she was at the verge of sanity, her eyes almost completely dried out from all the tears shed in hospital bathrooms or in Kurt's comforting arms.

'She's just so exhausted, I don't know how I could help her,' he told Blaine one afternoon in their usual coffee shop. He shrugged, trying to fight off the tears filling his eyes. 'She could use a break from all this.'

Blaine didn't answer for a moment, looking at Kurt with sympathy.

'So maybe… Let her take a break, you know?'

'What?'

'Go and see Finn, and let her stay and rest for a day.'

Kurt lifted his gaze, having wiped his eyes with a napkin.

'I never thought of that.' He considered it for a moment. 'Then, I guess, tomorrow I'm ditching classes and going to West Point.'

***

The next morning, Carole was informed she was to take advantage of the spa treatments offered by her hotel, and Rachel went to classes feeling terribly lonely without her best friend at her side – even though freshmen and sophomores didn't have many occasions of interacting during the day anyway. Having him in the same building was comforting.

Meanwhile, Kurt rented a car – a stylish gleaming red Fiat 500 – and started his journey up the state with his heart in his throat.

One reason for his anxiety was the fact that he hadn't sat behind the steering wheel for a few weeks, having no vehicle in the city. What was, however, mostly responsible for the tension he was feeling, was the dread that Finn could be in a worse state than the last time he'd seen him.

And that kept him on edge throughout the whole drive, despite the collection of his favourite musical numbers blaring from the speakers.

***

He was fidgeting, when he entered the hospital, directing his footsteps to the elevators. Never before had he fully understood why the phrase was "worried sick"; now he was exactly that. Concern about his brother made him nauseous. Along with the fact that he no longer could predict how Finn would behave.

He inhaled deeply, before pushing the door open, and entering Finn's room.

His step-brother was standing by the window, propped on a pair of crutches, gazing unseeingly into the green space behind the hospital.

'Hi,' Kurt said in a small voice.

No response.

'I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip, your favourites. And I remembered not to put any raisins in them, I promise.' He laughed nervously. Still no reaction from Finn.

A moment passed in silence. Kurt began to scan the room; it looked exactly the way it had that first day Finn had spent in West Point. There was no trace of anyone's presence, apart from the disheveled sheets on the bed, and a simple ceramic mug on the nightstand. No photos, no flowers, no cards, no balloons, like the ones Kurt had spotted through some open doors on the way. The room appeared as empty as Finn.

From the lack of a better thing to do, Kurt began making Finn's bed. He fluffed the pillow, and motioned to lift the mattress a little to tuck the sheet under it.

'Don't!'

Kurt jumped up. Hearing Finn raise his voice after receiving no response at all was very startling. And as suspicious. Kurt turned to face Finn, who was breathing deeply and rapidly, with his eyes wandering somewhere to Kurt's right.

'Why?'

Kurt's gaze peered into Finn's horrified face.

'Just… don't.'

'Fine,' Kurt replied, straightening, and moving away from the bed, all the while keeping an eye on Finn, who returned to his previous position by the window.

The second Finn was facing away from him, Kurt leaped forwards, and pushed the mattress away from the bed frame. To his astonishment, a handful of pills fell out to the floor, scattering all over, released from between the fabric and the metal.

Finn turned back around, his jaw dropped in horror.

'Oh my god, Finn…'

Words escaped Kurt; he could just stare at the pills littering the floor. He couldn't understand why.

Why would someone so utterly lost refuse to be helped?

Why would Finn not take his medication?

Why would his brother not want to get better?

WHY?

Finn barely kept his balance, leaning on the windowsill behind him. Kurt sank onto the bed, his eyes still stuck to the pills rolling in all possible directions on the floor. It took him a few minutes to arrange the mess in his mind, and compose himself enough to stop the trembling of his lower lip.

'Finn… Why…?' A pause. He forced himself to look up at his step-brother. 'Why did you- why were you doing this?' He waved his hand vaguely over the floor.

The whole of Finn's body was shaking, the crutches threatening to fall out of his hands any second.

'What's the point?,' he murmured so quietly Kurt barely heard it.

'What? What's the point?!' Kurt stood up vigorously, rage beginning to boil within him. 'Have you thought, even for a moment, about all the people you're hurting right now? More than your- injury had already hurt them? Have you thought about that? About your mom? My Dad? Rachel? Everyone? Me? You think we don't care what happens to you?!'

Finn was silent, trembling more and more powerfully, until the crutches hit the floor with a clatter, and he slid to the floor awkwardly, because of the cast still covering his left leg.

'You can't just give up! Those pills are supposed to help you, we all want to help you, Finn!' Kurt was frantically searching for things to say that would somehow make Finn listen to him. 'I know it must be tough, and I can't even begin to imagine what it was all like,' he lowered his voice, 'but let us help you. Please.' He leant over Finn, realizing there were tears streaming down his brother's face.

A sob came with another huge tremble.

Kurt knelt beside him, cautiously putting his arms around Finn's shoulders.

'I can't.'

'What? What is it?'

Kurt pulled himself back to look into Finn's face.

'I can't take them.'

'Why?,' asked Kurt, failing to understand what his brother meant.

'I just can't.' He inhaled a lungful of air, and let it out slowly, before speaking again. ''Cause if I do… I'm scared I'll…'

He paused, but Kurt waited patiently for him to finish. Finn gulped.

'I'm afraid I'll end up like him.'

Kurt still didn't know what he meant.

'Like who?'

Another sob, another river of tears.

'Like my dad.'

Suddenly it all made perfect sense; knowing the true cause of his father's death was hard enough for Finn even before he had lived through any war trauma of his own. Now, it was simply too much for him to handle.

'Oh, sweetie,' said Kurt, embracing Finn tightly one more time. 'You won't. I'm here. I won't leave you. We won't. You have nothing to worry about.'

***

'Excuse me, sir?'

The male nurse at the desk was facing the other way, when Kurt approached.

'It's not sir, it's Specialist,' he replied with a kind smile, turning around and casting a glance over Kurt. 'How can I help you?', he asked a few seconds later.

'Um, I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm PFC Hudson's brother?'

The nurse nodded in acknowledgement.

'Yes, I know. Is there a problem?'

'Yes, actually, si- Specialist… O'Donnell…,' he added, reading the name tag on the man's camouflage scrubs, 'Finn- PFC Hudson- he's been stuffing his meds under his bed's mattress. I guess it's not terribly helpful with his therapy, if he does that, is it?'

The nurse nodded again.

'It's not. It's also not uncommon.' Seeing the slightly incredulous expression that was emerging on Kurt's face, he added hastily, 'But we'll make sure it won't happen again, Mr Hummel.'

Kurt smiled faintly in response to the nurse's reassuring smile.

'It's Kurt, not Mr Hummel.'

'Then it's Sean, not Specialist O'Donnell.'

***

It was getting late, and the hospital room was growing darker. Kurt and Finn sat huddled on the latter's bed, their backs to the wall.

'One of the guys died there, you know?,' said Finn quietly. 'I still don't really believe.'

He took a quick glance at his brother, expecting skepticism from him, but Kurt only nodded slowly. He understood completely; after all these years, there were still mornings when he'd wake up hoping his mom would make him pancakes for breakfast.

'And it's a bit like- I don't know- like I lost that leg in the- the blast.' Finn's voice trembled at the last word. 'It's so stupid.'

He began to pick at the edge of his sheets.

'It's not stupid.' Kurt was hesitant; he never really talked to Finn about the incident, as he usually referred to it in his mind. He inhaled deeply before speaking, in the hope to build up his courage and keep calm. 'You know, when I got beat up…'

Finn looked up. The idea that Kurt would get it never entered his mind.

'It was as if- as if someone smashed me to the ground. Like I was made of glass or- or fucking porcelain, and I just shattered.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

They were silent for a minute, Finn thinking intently over what Kurt had told him.

'How do you- How do you live? With something- like that?'

Kurt shrugged.

'You just do. You pick yourself up and glue the pieces together, hoping they won't fall apart again.'

***

Kurt was sprawled on the couch, rubbing his forehead. For some reason he didn't care much about getting his Alexander McQueen outfit creased, or about the fact that Blaine was sitting in the chair next to him, watching him closely.

'So you're sure they'll take good care of him now?,' Blaine asked after a few seconds of silence. Kurt had just given him a detailed account of his visit to West Point.

The only detail he failed to disclose was that he had coffee with Sean (in the nurse's coffee break), who turned out to be a flirt.

'Yeah, I guess so. Or at least I hope so.' He sighed. 'Well, Finn would have to be really inventive to find a new nook to stuff all the drugs now, and trust me, he's not terribly clever.'

'So you're no longer worried?'

Kurt sat up, crossing his legs.

'No, I'm still worried. But a little bit less. Thank you.'

Blaine frowned.

'What for?'

'You know, for suggesting that to me. To go there.'

'Oh, that. There's nothing to thank for, really.'

Kurt rolled his eyes, slumping back to the cushions.

'Alright. But now I'm thinking I should do something to maybe help him some more. And I have this idea, I just don't know if it's any good.'

A few seconds passed in silence, with Kurt hesitant to continue.

'Go on, I can't tell you if the idea's bad, when I don't know what it is.'

'Right. I was thinking to do a show… a concert at the hospital. Something to lift Finn's spirits. And not just Finn's, others' too. But you know, that could remind him of the good old times in Glee club, and all. Maybe some of the guys could come… but even if not, there's still me and Rachel…'

'And me,' interrupted Blaine.

'What? You really would be up for it?'

'Absolutely.'

Kurt gave him a small grateful smile.

'Then I guess it is a good idea?'

'Yeah, it is.' Unexpectedly, Blaine's face lost its carefree expression, becoming a mixture of sadness and hurt.

Seeing the change in his friend's face, Kurt froze. For a second he felt as if he was looking at himself. A question tried to force its way out his mouth, What happened to you? He studied Blaine's expression for one more moment; he could swear Blaine's eyes were much more glistening than usually. And he clearly averted them from Kurt. There was definitely something on his mind. Something he wasn't keen on sharing.

'Blaine?,' said Kurt quietly.

'Yeah?' His voice was thick from the unshed tears.

'Is something wrong? Is Trent bothering you again?'

His only response was a dismissing wave of a hand. But Kurt knew there had to be something more.

'Just tell me.'

'It's nothing- It's not Trent, he's being nice lately.'

'It's not nothing, I can see that much.' Kurt's voice became much firmer.

Blaine bit his lip, considering whether to tell Kurt everything the story of Finn's PTSD brought back for him. A couple of minutes passed in a silence, with Kurt staring intently at an uncertain Blaine.

'Um- I just- I wish I'd had someone like Finn has you, when I was going through a- a rough patch.'

'A rough patch?' A tinge of doubt sounded in Kurt's voice. 'You mean that someone put you through hell?'

Blaine nodded, gulping to fight back tears.

'I was- um- I was a freshman in high school. And there was that dance I once told you about, a Sadie Hawkins, and, um- That was soon after I came out, you know, and there was one other openly gay guy at school. He was a junior, and a friend. Guess getting shoved into walls makes you bond with people who get shoved too.' He chuckled bitterly. 'Anyway, we agreed to go, as friends to that fucking dance, and- We left early, 'cause they were picking on us. Nothing harmful really, just the usual slurs; we were used to that. So we left, and we were waiting for his dad to come and get us. But- um- there were those guys- our three arch enemies- and they followed us out. They were huge, you know, jocks and all that. We didn't stand a chance.'

He lifted his head to look at Kurt, whose face showed a mixture of pain, sadness and empathy.

'They beat you up?,' Kurt asked in a trembling voice.

Blaine nodded.

'It's just that… When something happens to you… I mean, Finn's lucky to have you all to be there for him.'

Trying to keep the tears that filled his eyes from falling, Kurt reached out to squeeze Blaine's hand. He felt as if the thread of mutual understanding that had formed between them the first moment they met became validated by acknowledging its existence.

So he chose to speak again, never letting go of Blaine's hand.

'You know, in high school, we, the whole Glee club, we were at the lowest rung of the McKinley social ladder. I was pretty much used to being picked on already, because of my voice and all. We were served slushie facials practically every day.'

'Slushies?,' interjected Blaine quietly.

'Yeah, that was the favourite pastime of the McKinley bullies. They'd just throw a whole slushie in your face.' Blaine gaped, shocked and horrified. 'It's like getting bitch slapped by an iceberg.'

A shiver ran down Kurt's spine at the memory of the icy drink trickling down his chest, and washing the sticky chunks out of his hair.

'You could think that I'd be immune to anything, having lived through two years of shit like that, right? But then, I was a junior, and this guy started- just randomly shove me into lockers. Sometimes he added a slur to top it off.' He paused to take a deep breath and steady himself. 'It lasted for weeks. I was beginning to be really terrified, and it took so long to gather the courage to fight back.'

'And did you?'

Kurt's face was distorted by the pain those memories evoked.

'At some point I sort of snapped, and- I shoved him back. Not like it really made any difference, you know, he was a jock, a football player, and I'm- you know, what I look like, so… He only said not to push him. And I still don't really know what he meant exactly by that. A couple of days later I was walking home from a friend's house. She lived close enough for me not to drive. It was dark already, but it was so close, why would anybody be scared to walk home?' He snorted, shaking his head. 'I was so stupid. And I hated him so much for what he had done to me.'

'Hated?'

'When he was kicking me, he kept on saying "I'm not like you, I don't want to be like you". It was like a mantra, like he was wishing it to come true. I didn't understand it then. They let him go easy, he spent some six months in juvie, then he switched schools. And when I was back in Lima for the summer, I found out that he had tried to kill himself.'

Kurt raised his eyes to look at Blaine through a haze of moisture.

'It turned out all the hate that he directed at me- that was all because he couldn't deal with the fact that he was gay, too. And when I found out that he simply didn't know how to overcome the self-loathing he was feeling, that I had felt myself, I couldn't hate him anymore.'

The room became silent, and the two boys sat there, holding hands, and finally letting the tears fall, knowing no more words were necessary. They understood.