The second Sebastian opened his eyes the next morning, he somehow knew, even before he was really fully conscious, that he'd made a huge mistake. The sight of Carson's naked body stretched out over the covers on the opposite side of the bed, limbs askew and mouth slightly open, only confirmed this conclusion. Memories of the previous night flashed through his brain as he rubbed his eyes and tried to quell the rising feeling of unease deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit," he murmured as bits and pieces of the night pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind, like some kind of bizarre porno film. Carson against the wall. Carson on top of him. Him on top of Carson. Carson on his knees, taking him down his throat like it was his job. Well…. it was technically his job, but still.

"I fucked up," he mumbled to himself, swallowing hard as he rubbed at his temples and did his best to avoid looking at the naked boy beside him. "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up." Kurt was going to be so pissed if he found out. He was probably going to want to murder Sebastian, and he was definitely going to be severely hurt. And who could blame him? He'd probably spent the whole night worrying himself half sick over Carson's whereabouts, and the entire time Carson had been in Sebastian's own bed, doing things that would most likely cost Sebastian the use of his dick for a very long time.

If Kurt found out, that was. If. If was good.

"Oh my god, will you please shut the fuck up," grumbled Carson sleepily, not budging an inch from his position except to move his mouth. "Trying to sleep. Fuck."

Sebastian looked over at him, wincing guiltily at the sight of all the huge, fresh hickeys adorning Carson's neck and chest. Not that making them hadn't been fun, but still, Kurt was bound to notice them, wasn't he? Speaking of which….

"Not that I don't usually thoroughly enjoy the sight of a naked Phillips brother in my bed, but don't you think you ought to be getting home?" he asked. Carson opened one sleepy eye and managed to glare at him with it as he finally turned his head.

"That depends, do you usually play Hit-It-And-Quit-It with all the guys you fuck?" he retorted with a yawn. "Or am I a special case?"

"Special case," replied Sebastian. "Seriously, not that I didn't have a hell of a time, but we really shouldn't have done… well… this," he finished, gesturing between their naked bodies to indicate the several rounds of wild sex that had occurred the previous night. "As much as I risk sounding like I'm going soft."

"Wasn't much of a problem last night," Carson quipped, holding his head up on one hand as he smirked at Sebastian. "I know I give you a lot of shit, but you actually have some pretty impressive stamina. And you should enjoy that compliment, because it's the last one you're ever going to receive from me. Because you're a jackass who basically forced himself on me last night."

"Excuse me?" exclaimed Sebastian. "Sweetheart, I think you're a little confused. I clearly gave you the option to say no."

"Yeah, if I wanted to lose a hefty chunk of change," muttered Carson. "You held my money hostage if I didn't agree to satisfy all your gross needs. Prick."

"I didn't hear you complaining," replied Sebastian calmly. "What was that you were screaming while I had you against the wall? Was it "Fuck me harder, oh god, harder?" Because I'm pretty sure that's what it was, unless I'm losing my memory."

"Oh, fuck you," groaned Carson, rolling over and adjusting the pillow under his head. "I'll go when I'm good and ready. Your bed is actually super comfortable, what kind of mattress is this?"

"Seriously, get up," Sebastian ordered, yanking the sheet off of him. "Get dressed, I'm gonna take you h-"

The ringing of his phone interrupted him in mid-sentence, and the sight of Kurt's smiling face on the caller identification screen made him swallow the rest of the words as he frantically wondered what the fuck he should do.

"You should answer it," Carson said with a yawn, as if he'd read Sebastian's mind.

"But he's going to ask if I've heard from you," Sebastian protested as the phone kept on ringing.

"Seriously, you'd better answer it. He's gonna get pissed," Carson said

He had a point. Sebastian took a breath and swiped the screen, pressing the phone to his ear and his finger to his lips to let Carson know he should keep his mouth shut or else.

"Hey, Kurt," he said casually into the phone.

"Hi," Kurt replied with a sigh. "I know it's early, but… I mean, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Sebastian answered honestly. "I was up."

"Good," said Kurt, sounding relieved. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. You know…. for last night. I mean, I certainly don't agree with what you said, but I might have been a little harsh, and I'm sorry. I was just worried."

"It's fine, Kurt. Don't worry about it," Sebastian assured him as Carson looked on with interest. "Did you, um… did you ever hear from Carson last night?" he asked, wondering if there was a special circle of hell waiting just for him, because even he felt like a complete jackass for asking that question. Carson snorted, and Sebastian threw a pillow at him to shut him up as Kurt sighed on the other end of the phone.

"No," he admitted. "But, I mean… you're right. Carson's a big boy and can take care of himself, and I'm just worrying too much. Right?"

"Right," agreed Sebastian, shooting a death glare at Carson, who was mouthing the words "Hi, Kurt!" and waving exaggeratedly at the phone. "I'm sure he's… I'm sure he's fine. He probably spent the night somewhere and is just being inconsiderate by not calling," he added, giving Carson a pointed look. Carson rolled his eyes and gave him the finger in reply. "Hey, Kurt, can I call you back after? I have a… bug I need to kill," he lied.

"Uh… yeah, ok," replied Kurt. "Like I said, I just wanted to apologize."

"Erm, well… apology accepted," Sebastian said. He said his goodbyes and quickly hung up the phone just in time for Kurt to (hopefully) miss Carson suddenly screaming "Kurt, help, they're torturing me for government secrets!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" hissed Sebastian, grabbing a pillow and swatting Carson on the arm with it. "Do you want Kurt to know where you are and what you were doing all night?"

"Not particularly, no," admitted Carson, pulling himself into a sitting position and resting his chin in both hands. "However, I do believe, and please correct me if I'm wrong, that you want that even less." He gave Sebastian a smile that was way too wide and full of mischief for Sebastian's comfort.

"Admittedly, yes, I think it would be in the best interests of my balls if Kurt were to not know what went on here last night," replied Sebastian. "Which is why you're going to get dressed, and I'm going to take you home. Now."

"Not so fast there, Chuckles," Carson protested, refusing to move from his spot on the bed. "You can play the too cool for school card all you want, but I think you and I both know you're worried about a little more than just your balls."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," muttered Sebastian as he reached into his closet for a shirt and pants.

"Oh, I think you do," said Carson with a smile. "You really don't want Kurt finding out what happened last night because you like him, and that scares the shit out of you, am I right?"

"And what are you going to do? Tell?" asked Sebastian with a snort. "Please. How high are you? You have much more incentive to keep your mouth shut than I do, sweetcheeks."

"If you don't fucking stop scaring away my clients, I just might be desperate enough to resort to that," replied Carson smoothly. "I can't have you costing me money left and right while you hilariously play the morality police. If my job bothers you that much, you can use your piles and piles of money to set up a permanent arrangement with me. I'll admit you aren't that bad in bed. Or, you can leave me the fuck alone."

Sebastian stared him down, considering him carefully. This was, by far, one of the most ridiculous things he had ever heard come out of Carson's mouth, and the slight scared look in the other boy's steely blue eyes betrayed the fact that he knew as much.

"Nice try, hon," said Sebastian casually as he pulled on his clothes. "We both know it would be a cold day in hell before you breathed one word of this to Kurt, even under penalty of death. Because you know you wouldn't be able to lie about one bit of it, and that it would gut him. You're a self-righteous asshole, but even you wouldn't hurt him intentionally like that. And, hello, hurting him is exactly what you're doing when you sell yourself on the street."

"Fuck you," muttered Carson. "Don't pretend to be such an angel. The only difference between you and I is that I get paid for what I do."

"Get dressed, Carson," Sebastian ordered.

"Stop chasing my clients away," snapped Carson.

"Get dressed," Sebastian repeated. "I'm taking you home."

"Don't bother," Carson replied irritably, getting out of bed and quickly pulling his own clothes back on. "I'll find my own way home. And the next time you try to scare off a client, I will kick you in the balls personally. Do you fucking understand me?" He didn't wait for a reply, just stalked out of the room and down the stairs. Sebastian heard the front door slam after a few moments, and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he slumped against the wall.

Seriously, life had been far, far less complicated in France.

Thankfully, the long trek from Sebastian's house back to his own was sufficient enough to calm Carson down, because the last thing he wanted to do was arrive home still pissed off and worry Kurt even more than he probably already was.

He still didn't know what the hell had just happened over the last twelve hours, except that he felt dirtier than he ever had in his life for actually enjoying the sex. And he sure as fuck didn't know why he had tried to blackmail Sebastian with it. What the hell was wrong with him? As much as Carson hated to give Sebastian credit for anything, the guy had been right. There was no way in hell he would actually tell Kurt anything. Was he insane?

Still, though. Fucking Sebastian had better start leaving him and his clients alone, or by god, there would be hell to pay. If it was the last thing Carson ever did, he would find a way.

He arrived home at last and let himself inside, bypassing his sleeping mother on the couch and heading up the stairs. Kurt must have heard him come in, or been waiting by the window or something, because Carson didn't even get all the way up the stairs before a warm body was lunging itself at him and he found himself with his arms full of Kurt.

"Finally! Where were you all night, you little shit?" murmured Kurt into his neck as he hugged him so tight Carson almost had trouble breathing. "I almost thought you were dead."

"I was…. I was at a friend's house," Carson said quietly, running his hands in soothing circles on Kurt's back and feeling like the world's biggest asshole.

Kurt pulled away slightly and looked him over. "Santana's?" he asked, his voice hopeful as he casually brushed Carson's shoulder with one palm. His eyes lingered ever so briefly on Carson's neck, and if he noticed the fresh hickeys adorning the skin, he pretended not to.

"I forgot my phone," Carson replied, sidestepping the question. "I probably should have called you so you wouldn't worry about me, but I… lost track of time and forgot." You're an asshole, you're going to hell, and it's amazing that the hand of God hasn't come down by now to strike you the fuck down.

Kurt nodded, his eyes clouding over as he pulled Carson back into the embrace and hugged him close. "I wasn't worried," he said determinedly, the blatant lie evident in his voice. "Just…. just wondered where you were, that's all."

It was enough to make a knot of guilt form in Carson's stomach as he realized that, despite the bravado he'd exhibited to Sebastian that morning, there was little to zero doubt that he would not ever be able to say a word about it to Kurt, even if he left out everything about it being prostitution. He hated seeing Kurt like this, and hated even more being the cause.

Fucking Sebastian, having to be right all the goddamn time. Fuck him.

He spent the majority of the rest of the day trying desperately to come up with an idea of something he could do for Kurt that could, at least partially, make up for causing him a whole night of unnecessary worry. A day out together, maybe? It had certainly been a while since they'd spent any bonding time together. Doing what, though? Everything good cost money, and if Carson spent too much, Kurt was bound to ask questions.

Then again, I could always just let him think it came from pushing weed.

He finally decided on purchasing two spa packages on the internet for one day, something he knew Kurt would squeal with joy over, so much so that he might not even think too hard about how they'd been obtained if Carson could come up with a clever enough cover story that he would buy.

"Santana won them," he said as he presented them to Kurt the next day. "Some radio station was giving them out, and she doesn't feel like using them, so I guess they're ours for tomorrow. If you want them, of course."

"Are you kidding? Of course I want them!" Kurt exclaimed, his face breaking out into a grin. "This will be so much fun! Oh my god, we have to do the steam room!"

"Sure," Carson agreed with a wide smile as Kurt threw his arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

God, I am such a piece of shit.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation" Kurt sang happily the next morning as he styled his hair up in the mirror. It was probably kind of stupid to style his hair when he was going to be spending most of the day at a spa where it would undoubtedly come undone, but he would never have it said that he didn't pay utmost attention to his appearance at all times.

Besides, even though he knew otherwise, he liked to pretend that this was a date with Carson, and it was important to always look your best for dates.

"Darkness stirs and wakes imagination," he continued, dabbing one more bit of mousse through his hair to give it its signature swoosh.

"Urgh, I hate that song," mumbled Carson as he entered the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush, brushing his teeth in the mirror as he watched Kurt work.

"How can you not like it?" Kurt gasped exaggeratedly. "It's Lloyd Webber! It's a classic!"

Carson shrugged. "It may be a classic, but it's creepy. Yeah, sure, come to my creepy torture chamber in the catacombs so I can perv on you and make you sing all my shit. Yeah, sexy."

"You're such a bonehead," Kurt said with a smile as Carson spit out his toothpaste in the sink. "Ready for spa day?"

"Yep," replied Carson. "Got the passes in my pocket. Ready to roll?"

"Fuck yes, there's a massage with my name written all over it," said Kurt, grabbing Carson's hand and leading him down the stairs. "And really, you could use one too. If anyone needs major stress relief, it's you."

"You don't know the half of it," mumbled Carson.

"Think we should wake Mom up and let her know where we're going to be?" Kurt asked as they passed the couch, where Sheryl was knocked out cold, her empty beer bottle from the night before still clutched tightly in one hand.

"Nah," Carson said dismissively. "She'll be fine."

"I dunno, I usually like to at least make sure she isn't dead."

"If she were dead, she would have dropped the bottle," Carson pointed out. "Come on, or we'll miss the bus."

The spa turned out to be even nicer than Kurt expected when he'd Googled it, and he just barely managed not to squeal out loud with happiness when he slipped into his complimentary robe and slippers after his deep tissue coconut oil massage ended.

"Carson," he whispered excitedly as he ran his fingers down the soft, downy fabric. "Carson, it feels like a baby duck! Do you think they'll mind if I steal it?"

"I think they'd notice, yeah," Carson replied in a grumpy tone, which he'd adopted ever since he'd walked into Kurt's massage room and saw the hot French guy who had been performing it.

"You know, normally I would tell you to loosen the hell up and stop being such a sourpuss, but I actually think your blatant jealousy of Pierre is adorable," Kurt said with a grin as he and Carson started walking down the hall toward the steam room.

"Who?" Carson asked innocently.

"The hot guy with the French accent and the ripped muscles who was pouring oil all over me when you walked in," Kurt replied, his grin growing bigger as Carson's scowl did the same.

"Oh, him? I was not jealous," Carson insisted. "I was merely wondering who the plastic surgeon and/or steroid pusher was who gave him his impossible physique."

"Jealouuuuus," Kurt crooned as they found the steam room and chose a station.

"Was not."

"Was too. You're jealous that my masseuse was hot and yours wasn't."

"I'll have you know that my masseuse was a perfectly lovely lady with a very nice rack, and that said rack was right up in my face several times," Carson replied as they disrobed and entered their steam station in their boxers. "So I guess we both had fun."

"Eew, please don't talk about boobs," Kurt said, making a face as they sat down on a bench. "The steam room is a no boob zone. Metaphorically speaking," he added as a nearby woman gave him a withering look.

"He has a problem with boobs," Carson explained to the woman cheekily. "Boobs killed his parents."

"He's kidding, obviously," Kurt added, punching Carson on the arm. His eyes were automatically drawn to the collection of healing hickeys on his brother's chest, which he chose to ignore in the interest of enjoying his day. If he didn't think about Carson having a secret boyfriend or random hookups, then he could pretend they didn't happen.

Besides, the last time he'd asked about a mysterious hickey, Carson had just replied, "My phone fell on my neck."

It was better to ignore hickeys. It was definitely better for Kurt's mental health.

However, it was one thing to ignore hickeys, and quite another to ignore the blatant staring of almost every guy and girl in the room at Carson's chest, which was glistening more and more by the moment as it grew hotter and sweatier. The former he could ignore, the latter he could not.

"Don't you want to put your robe back on?" he asked Carson after a few minutes, and Carson gave him a bewildered look in return.

"We're in a steam room, Kurt. It's hot as balls."

"I don't know, it seems a bit cold," Kurt replied as sweat dripped down his back.

"You're mental."

"Modest is hottest."

"You just want to leave the steam room so you can go find Hot Pierre," mumbled Carson.

"So you admit he was hot?"

"He was not hot," Carson whined. "And I was definitely not jealous of him."

"Yes you were," Kurt insisted as he scooted closer to Carson and gave the starers a possessive glare. "It's ok, it's adorable."

Carson sighed and tentatively put one arm around Kurt's shoulder, patting it gently as Kurt's blush was effectively hidden by the fact that he was already flushed from the steam. "Anyone ever tell you you're the archetype annoying little brother?"

"That hurts, Carson."

"You love it."

"I love you."

The brief, odd look that crossed Carson's face was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but nonetheless made Kurt's stomach tighten just a little with sadness.

The summer wore on, and so did Kurt's impatience with it. He never thought he would see the day where he was praying for school to start back up, but it would appear that day had come. It just wasn't the same as previous summers. Carson was always off doing something secretive (probably hooking up with his stupid secret moneybags boyfriend, Kurt thought bitterly), he barely ever saw Seth anymore since his friend had started dating Quinn Fabray, and needless to say, his family sure as hell wasn't what it used to be. If anything, he couldn't wait for school to begin so he could have something to focus on other than the monotonous boredom that filled most of his summer days. At least Sebastian always seemed to have time for him, which was nice. Going out with him occasionally broke up the days.

In retrospect, he really should have appreciated the boredom, because, as he should have learned by now, it was so much better than the alternative.

He entered a local cafe one hot, sweltering afternoon in late August, a little early to meet up with Sebastian, but desperate for a cold drink. He bought one and slid quickly into a booth to enjoy both it and the air conditioning, which were sorely needed after his walk. He was so busy downing his soda that at first, he almost didn't notice the strange guy staring at him from curiously across the restaurant. Not until he was crossing over and standing right in front of him, that is.

"Can I help you?" asked Kurt, confused as to why the guy was just standing there like an idiot, staring at him with the world's oddest expression on his face. As though he wanted to say something, but definitely didn't want to be overheard.

"Hey," the guy said conversationally at last, sliding himself into the booth across from Kurt and glancing around nervously before looking him in the eye.

"Uh," Kurt said, more confused than ever and unsure what to make of the complete stranger opposite him. "Hi?"

So, uh," the guy said after several seconds of awkward silence. "This is some luck, seeing you here. I was going to email you later, actually. What you got planned for this weekend? Have you got a free hour or so you can pencil me in for?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows reflexively, completely bewildered at this point why this guy he'd literally never seen before was acting like they were best buddies. "I'm sorry, I… I'm not sure what you mean," he stammered awkwardly. "Do I know you?"

"Ah, right. I'm sure you probably don't remember my face. All of, um… all of us probably blur together for you," the guy replied with a smile. "Uh, about two weekends ago? It was my birthday and I got the full service? I asked you to call me Larry? Ring any bells now?" he asked hopefully.

Kurt felt something begin to gnaw at his stomach, a feeling of unease he couldn't really explain, but which made him feel vaguely nauseous as he pushed away the seed of a thought that was nagging at his brain, a thought he refused to let take full form. "No, sorry," he said apologetically as the guy across from him frowned in disappointment. "No bells."

"Ah, well," the guy replied with a dejected shrug. "No worries, I get it. Anyway, what about this weekend? I just got paid and I'm ready to party and rattle some furniture, if you get what I mean. And my neighbor is out of town, so I don't have to worry about her bitching about the noise this time. Please tell me you have a free spot."

"Excuse me?" asked Kurt coldly, the sudden, clear realization of what the guy was asking hitting him like a stone. "I am not a-"

"Mate, seriously, I'm desperate," the guy interrupted him, his eyes pleading as he stared Kurt down. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about your ass since the last time. I'll pay extra if there's a scheduling conflict."

The gnawing in Kurt's stomach intensified as he felt his blood turning slowly into ice. He narrowed his eyes at the guy and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. "I don't know who you think you are, and I don't really care, but I wouldn't let you near my ass if you were the last guy on earth," he replied coldly.

But he had a pretty good idea whose ass the guy was actually talking about, and the thought made him barely able to contain the urge to start screaming right there in the restaurant.

"Wow, calm down, hostile," the guy said with a low whistle, looking surprised at the outburst. "That's definitely not what you were saying last time when we were shaking the mattress and you were screaming so loud my neighbor wanted to ring the police."

The nausea that had been building inside of Kurt finally rose to the surface, and he stood up hastily, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. He needed to leave right then or he felt like he was going to die. He couldn't stay in the cafe another second. He'd text Sebastian in a minute and tell him not to bother coming, but right then he could only focus on getting as far away as possible.

"Where are you going?" the guy protested, reaching out and taking hold of Kurt's arm. Kurt yanked it free, glaring at him as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he snarled angrily. "Don't fucking touch me." He turned and hurried out of the cafe, making his way down the street as quickly as his feet would allow, his eyes focused squarely on the ground in front of him, because if he broke focus for even one second, he was going to either throw up or cry. Or punch an innocent bystander. Or all three of those things at once.

How could I be so stupid? he chastised himself as he walked, not paying any attention to where he was going and not even caring. How could I have been so fucking BLIND?

Everything suddenly made a world of sense. The long hours away from home. The money. The nicer clothes, the sudden need to use hair products. The fucking hickeys. Every last piece was fitting neatly into place, like one giant, horrific puzzle.

He didn't realize he was headed for home until he found himself walking up the driveway and standing in front of the door, unable to make himself coherent enough to find his key and let himself inside. He just stood there for a while, turning over thought after thought in his mind as though if he thought long enough about them, it would somehow make them less real and he could pretend that the entire day had been nothing more than a really terrible nightmare.

Just to be sure, he gave himself a tiny pinch on the arm. It hurt.

With a sigh, he let himself into the empty house and headed straight for the stairs. He meant to go to his own room, but some inner urge stopped him, instead making him take a detour into his brother's bedroom. He stood inside the doorway and glanced around, his breathing growing heavy as he took in the neatness of it; the made bed, the nicely organized desk, the full bookshelves. Everything tucked away in its own place, if a little cluttered. An organized mess, just like Carson.

Kurt didn't know how long he stood there for, but it was long enough for him to get progressively more angry as he thought about Carson's secret, which everything inside of him still desperately wanted to believe wasn't true. All the lying and the sneaking around and god, what the hell would possess Carson to do something so dangerous and so, so stupid? What even went on in his twin's head anymore? When had they grown so very far apart that something like this could be happening right under Kurt's nose and he could be none the wiser?

And most importantly, after everything they had gone through together and all the talks they'd had about honesty…. why had Carson lied to him again? That hurt the most, even worse than the thought of god knew how many strangers' hands all over his brother.

Everything was becoming way too much for Kurt to handle. He felt like the walls of the room were closing in on him, intent on crushing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Without even thinking, he opened his mouth and let out a blood curdling scream, closing his eyes as he felt it rip from his throat and echo through the room. He threw his bag down and reached for the first thing his fingers touched, a world map hanging on the wall beside the door. He grabbed it and ripped it off the wall, crunching it into a ball and throwing it across the room with an angry grunt, where it bounced off the window and landed beside the bed.

He continued screaming until he thought his head would explode, grabbing objects and books from shelves and throwing them everywhere without regard to what they hit or where they landed. He tore apart the bed, ripping the covers off and pounding his fists into the pillows. He trashed the entire room before he finally stopped screaming, his voice hoarse and wrecked as he crumbled down beside the messy bed and hugged his knees to his chest. His body was still buzzing with adrenaline and residual anger as he buried his face in his knees and sobbed. Everything hurt, from his head to his toes, but his heart hurt the most. He didn't know what emotion he was actually feeling. He was angry, obviously, but he was also just plain sad. Sad for himself and sad for Carson and whatever had led him down the path of being a… of selling himself.

God, please let it not be true. Please. I'll do anything, just please let this all be a huge misunderstanding.

The only thing on Carson's mind as he made his way home from work that afternoon was how badly he wanted a shower. His last client's apartment had smelled like some really odd combination of onions and old socks, and he could practically feel it seeping into his pores as he did his best to blow the guy without gagging from the overpowering smell. A little cleaning once in a while wouldn't kill people, fuck.

He pushed the door open and practically bounded up the stairs, intending to shower quickly and then maybe try his hand at cooking something, since he hadn't eaten much since breakfast and was starving. Something not involving onions, preferably. He headed down the hall and immediately stopped short when he reached his wide open doorway, his heart dropping into his stomach as he registered the sight before him.

His bedroom was completely trashed, from the doorway to the windows. Books had been thrown off their shelves, the notebooks and papers on his desk had been carelessly tossed in every direction, his sparse few posters had been torn off the walls, and his bedsheets and blankets were crumpled in a heap on the floor beside the bed. And worst of all, in the middle of the horrible mess, with his knees drawn up to his chest as he leaned against the bare bed, was Kurt, who looked up with puffy, swollen, tear stained eyes as Carson entered the room.

"Kurt?" asked Carson, all thoughts of a shower leaving his mind as worry immediately overtook him. "Kurt, oh my god, are you ok? What the fuck happened in here?" He rushed over to his twin with outstretched arms, intending to help him up, but Kurt shook his head violently before Carson could touch him.

"No," he said quietly, his voice almost unrecognizably hoarse and rough. "Don't touch me."

Carson stopped, his heart thudding in his chest as he looked down at him and frowned. "Kurt, what's wrong?" he asked again, not liking the way Kurt was looking at him one bit, as though he were a stranger. "You've been crying, and my room looks like a fucking tornado blew through it. What's going on?" It briefly occurred to him that maybe they had been robbed, and an entirely new feeling of panic set in as he thought of the stash of money under his bed that he hadn't had the chance to drop off at the bank yet. After everything he'd done to get it, he was going to lose his shit if it was gone.

He didn't have the chance to dwell on that for very long, though, because the next words out of Kurt's mouth were "Is it true?"

Carson blinked in confusion, his brain struggling to comprehend the question as he focused back on his brother. Kurt was looking up at him, his eyes red and raw and so very vulnerable, as though they were pleading with him to give the right answer.

"Is… huh?" asked Carson.

Kurt took a shaking breath, his eyes never leaving Carson even for a second. "Tell me the truth, Carson," he whispered, his voice an absolute wreck. "Are you… are you a…." His voice caught in his throat and he had to take another couple of breaths before he finally finished his sentence. "Are you a p-prositute?"

There seemed to be no air left in the room all of a sudden as Carson felt himself turn cold, every drop of blood inside of him freezing up as his heart pounded so hard he thought that surely it would break. He wanted to deny it, or scream, or run away, or do any number of things, but instead he could only stay rooted to the spot as Kurt's blue eyes, darkened with sadness, locked onto his and waited for the answer they both knew was coming.

"Yes," he replied dejectedly, refusing to make eye contact with Kurt as he said it. He didn't know how Kurt had found out and he really didn't want to, but he didn't see the point in lying to him anymore when it was clear that it wouldn't do a damn bit of good to get that heart wrenching look off of his twin's beautiful face.

Kurt closed his eyes and gasped, as though the single word reply had stabbed him in the gut. He buried his face in his knees and his shoulders began to shake with sobs as Carson stood there, unsure what to do and unable to stand the sight of Kurt in so much obvious pain.

Minute after minute ticked by, neither of them saying anything or even looking at one another. Carson stayed in place and so did Kurt, the silence closing in like an ominous spectre, until Kurt's tiny, shaking voice finally broke it.

"Why?" he asked, resting his chin on his knees as he hugged them closer to himself. "I don't understand."

Carson sighed. "Kurt, I…"

"Don't give me some bullshit answer, tell me why," Kurt interrupted, lifting his head at last to fix steely, angry blue eyes on Carson. "What would possess you to… I don't…."

"Kurt, it…. it's just so complicated…" Carson trailed off hopelessly. "I…"

Kurt stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "How long?" he demanded. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Kurt-"

"HOW LONG?"

Carson sighed again, his stomach in knots at the way Kurt was looking at him with so much fiery anger in his eyes. "I don't know… six months, maybe? I don't know, it started when Santana was still pregnant and I…. I needed money for the baby and I didn't mean to start hooking, it just happened by accident, and…"

"By accident?" Kurt screeched, causing Carson to take a step back as he advanced on him. "Carson, how the fuck does a person accidentally get themselves into prostitution? What, did you trip and fall on some guy's dick?"

"It wasn't like that," Carson shot back. "I was drunk, and I hooked up with a guy in the bathroom of a club, and he mistook me for a hooker. And I just…. the money was so easy, and I… Kurt, I need money if I'm ever going to get out of this godforsaken wasteland! I only have a year of school left before university, I need as much as I can get, and this is the fastest."

"Get a job, Carson!" Kurt exclaimed angrily. "That's what normal people do when they want to save money! They get a fucking job! They don't start fucking every person who throws money at them! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is? My god, do you even get yourself tested? How could you be so fucking stupid?"

"I use condoms, and I do get tests regularly," mumbled Carson, shrinking back from Kurt. For someone who was generally pretty docile, his twin could be a very intimidating figure when he wanted to be.

"Oh, like that makes it so much better," Kurt retorted, his already wrecked voice cracking as it strained itself to its limit. "Do you know anything about these sick fucks you're screwing? Do you have any idea how much danger you're in of being raped? Or murdered? Do you think I want to lose you to some… some… uuuugh, and the worst part… the fucking worst part of all this, Carson, is that once again, you're proving to me that you don't trust me, or think enough of me to be honest with me, and I just…. I'm at my breaking point. I'm so done!"

"Really, Kurt? What did you expect me to say? "Oh by the way, Kurt, just to keep the honesty between us, I'm a fucking hooker now?" What was I supposed to do? This isn't something I could just talk about with you!" Carson protested. "I knew you would react like this, that's why I didn't tell you! You would have tried to talk me out of it!"

"You're damn right I would have talked you out of it!" Kurt exploded. "Carson, I… I love you, and the thought of god knows how many complete strangers treating you like some disposable piece of meat makes me sick! You're more than that, and I just… I don't…"

"At least I'm good for something, Kurt!" screamed Carson. "People are willing to pay for me, and in case you haven't noticed, I want out of this fucking city as soon as humanly possible. Why shouldn't I do whatever I have to in order to make that happen?"

"There are OTHER WAYS, Carson!"

"Not for me!"

Kurt bit his lip and shook his head as he looked down at the ground. "Sebastian was right. He told me I was too obsessed with you, and you know what, he was absolutely fucking right! I waste entirely too much energy worrying about you and your wellbeing when it couldn't be more obvious that you, yourself, don't give enough of a damn."

"Yeah, sure, listen to what Sebastian says," Carson shot back, his blood beginning to rush in his ears as he stared Kurt down. "What a fucking prince he is. Who the fuck do you think I was with last weekend?"

He regretted the words almost as soon as they'd left his mouth, because the effect they had on Kurt was immediate and heartbreaking. His face fell even further than it already had, his eyebrows furrowed, and he shrank into himself ever so slightly, as though Carson's words were a knife in his back and he was trying to figure out how much he was injured.

"That's not true," he said quietly, more to himself than to Carson. "That's… that's impossible. Sebastian's an ass, but he wouldn't…"

"Ask him," Carson said, crossing his own arms and looking down at his feet. There was palpable silence between them for a moment, and then Carson felt a sharp stinging as Kurt's hand connected with the side of his face. He reached up and rubbed his stinging cheek, his eyes meeting Kurt's, which looked shocked, as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"I…." Kurt stammered as Carson rubbed his face. He looked momentarily stricken, as though he were going to apologize, but then it passed and his face hardened again. "Oh god," he murmured as he pushed past Carson and ran out the open bedroom door. Carson heard a slam as Kurt's went into his own room, leaving him alone to crumble down onto the floor next to his trashed bookshelf.

As if his life couldn't get any more fucking complicated. He should have known by now it could always get worse. Always.

Please tell me there's some kind of light at the end of this tunnel, because I don't know how much more I can take.