Kurt's body felt like it was made of lead. Even the act of breathing felt like it took a bodybuilder's strength, and his head was so full of cobwebs that he couldn't think. He vaguely felt that he was being lifted, carried upwards. Up to his room? He was too sleepy to care.

He was dropped onto his bed and he fumbled to climb under the covers, but whoever had carried him upstairs stopped him, saying something along the lines of "Not yet" that sounded muffled and very far away.

"I wan' go beh," Kurt slurred. Why wouldn't his tongue work? His mouth felt numb. His whole body felt numb.

The man who had spoken was nothing more than a dark blur, with undefined limbs and no face. Kurt felt the man's hands pull off his pajamas, stripping them away from his limp legs.

The man's palm ran down Kurt's spine, moving lower—

He screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Mercedes! Wait up!"

Mercedes halted on her way to the parking lot after classes finished, turning to see Quinn hurrying to catch up. Her mouth tightened. "What?"

Quinn shifted her stack of schoolbooks to her other arm as she stopped next to Mercedes. "You're going to Kurt's house, right?"

Mercedes only raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Can I come with you?"

"Why? You don't even think Kurt's sick."

"Just because I don't believe that DID is real doesn't mean I don't believe Kurt's going through a lot right now," Quinn defended herself. "He's my friend; I'd like to support him."

Mercedes felt rage boil underneath her breastbone. "Well, I'm sure the National Alliance for Mental Illness is accepting donations," she snapped, briskly turning on her toes and resuming her walk towards the parking lot.

"Wait!" Quinn called, quickly walking beside her, though Mercedes refused to stop. "That is so unfair, Mercedes – why can't I come? And why the hell are you the one who gets to say who visits him and who doesn't?"

"I'm not," Mercedes retorted as they descended the steps from the front entrance to the lot, their breath fogging in the air. "If you're gonna have this kind of attitude towards him, then I'm pretty sure that he doesn't want you there." She fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her blue Beetle, tossing her book bag inside before sinking into the driver's seat. "But if you want to come, then come. You can drive yourself."

She slammed the door and pulled the car out of its parking space, leaving Quinn shivering in her cardigan and t-strap heels.

When she arrived at the Hudson-Hummels' house, she was somewhat relieved to see that the only cars in the driveway actually belonged there. She wasn't in the mood to put up with Puck's cracks and Rachel's sugar cookies. She just wanted some time with Kurt. Though, come to think of it, she wasn't sure if he'd be… home.

God, this was so messed up.

Mercedes pulled her coat tighter around her torso as she navigated the icy path through the snowdrifts covering the front lawn. Her boots thunked loudly against the wood slats of the porch, and she rang the doorbell with her heart in her throat.

Carole answered the door almost immediately. "Oh," she said hesitantly. "Hi, Mercedes."

"Is Kurt here?" Mercedes asked, chewing on her lip. "And… available?"

"Uh…" Carole cast a glance over her shoulder. "You know what, it's probably time we woke him up anyways. Come on in." She held the door open for Mercedes. "Do you want a cup of tea or hot chocolate or something? It's freezing out."

"No, I'm fine," Mercedes said. "Kurt's upstairs?"

"Actually, he's on the couch." Carole rubbed her hands nervously as she walked down the hallway, Mercedes following behind.

"Is he… okay?"

Carole sighed, stopping before they reached the living room. "Mercedes… he had a really rough night. We're not entirely sure what happened, exactly, so… this might not be a good time for you to be here."

Mercedes nodded. "Okay. Just say the word and I'll leave."

Carole gave her a tight smile. "Oh, and try not to mention his hair," she said quickly, then turned and walked into the living room before Mercedes could ask what the hell she meant.

…Oh. That's what she meant.

Kurt was sprawled out across the couch stomach-down, the side of his face creased with marks from the cushions. He was twitching a little in his sleep from a dream or a nightmare, and Mercedes felt her hand fly up to her mouth of its own accord at the sight of his almost-shaved head.

Carole went and sat on the edge of the couch by his legs. "Kurt, honey, wake up," she said softly. She reached out and put a hand on the small of his back.

Mercedes jumped, almost backing into the wall when Kurt abruptly screamed at the top of his lungs. He jerked awake, thrashing at Carole as his chest heaved. Carole grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Kurt! Kurt, you're okay," she said loudly. "You're fine."

It took several seconds – way too long – for Kurt's pupils to dilate and focus, allowing him to realize that it was his stepmother holding him. Once he did, his body slackened. "Sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes traveled and found Mercedes, and he gave her a sad smile. "Hi, Cedes."

"Hi."

Carole patted him on the knee. "I'll let you two talk," she said, and stood up to go back to the kitchen.

Kurt exhaled heavily, sitting up and running a hand over his buzzed hair. "You can sit down, you know," he said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Right." Mercedes sank into the armchair next to the couch, wringing her hands.

Kurt yawned. "What time is it, anyways?"

"About four-thirty. I came right after Glee practice."

He watched her for a moment before speaking. "You didn't have to come."

"Kurt, I can't believe you think I'd stay away from you," Mercedes said. "You're my best friend and I'm here for you, no matter what. I thought that was obvious."

Kurt smiled, his eyes suddenly glassy. "You're right, sorry. Stupid question."

"You're such a dumbass sometimes." Her mouth twitched.

He laughed, and Mercedes was surprised at how odd the noise sounded now. "So how's everything at school? Finn's been trying to keep me up to date, but honestly, I haven't been around much to hear it."

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. "It's fine, I guess. You're all anyone's talking about now."

"Doesn't surprise me."

Mercedes was confused by how…disconnected Kurt seemed. For all the terrifying frenzy surrounding the exposure of his illness, it was startling to see him so calm.

"Kurt, what happened last night?" she asked. "A bunch of us were out looking for you until after two."

Kurt's smile vanished and he looked sick. "I… don't really want to talk about that."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing," Kurt said. Mercedes didn't think she'd ever seen him so tired. "…Can I just have a hug instead?"

"Okay."

"What the hell did you do?"

Sebastian's head snapped up from his World Poetry homework to see Blaine standing on the other side of the table, looking like he was trying very hard not to greet Sebastian with a full-blown physical attack. He was glad that Blaine was holding himself in check, though, since he didn't expect a smackdown in the middle of the Lima Bean would sit well with the staff, not to mention the fact that Blaine was only about half his size. He set his latte down on his notebook, hesitating before responding. "Blaine, I didn't do anything."

"I don't believe you."

Sebastian blinked, surprised by the shaky tone in Blaine's voice. "I'm actually sorry to tell you this, but Kurt initiated it."

"Initiated. What."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sebastian sighed and gestured for Blaine to have a seat. "After Kurt left last night, I found an article on McKinley's gossip blog," he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "I promise you, if I had known that Kurt was sick, I would never have let anything happen."

Blaine swallowed, obviously fighting the urge to vomit, and Sebastian couldn't really say he blamed him. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry—"

"What did you do?"

Sebastian exhaled heavily. "Okay, I'm just going to say it, matter-of-fact," he said, meeting Blaine's glare. "We had sex."

Blaine didn't say anything.

"I swear, I didn't know that he… that he wasn't Kurt—"

"Like that makes it any better?" Blaine snapped. "All that proves is that you'd rather screw my boyfriend if he wasn't insane."

"I should've seen that there was something wrong, okay? But I'd had a few beers, and… I don't know. Kurt would never have come on to me if you were in the picture, so I guess I thought that you two had broken up."

Blaine lurched to his feet, his chair scraping noisily across the floor. A couple of the other Lima Bean patrons glanced over, sensing a conflict worth spectating.

"Blaine, wait—" Sebastian stood up as well. "I don't know if it matters, but when he… when he changed? He was acting like a really young kid for a minute, and then he changed again and attacked me."

"I don't think Kurt's going to apologize for that," Blaine said coldly.

Sebastian shook his head. "I'm not looking for an apology. I just thought… I thought Kurt might want to know. I mean…" He trailed off for a second, trying to find the words he needed. "The fact that a child came out during that… situation. It might mean something."

"It's none of your business," Blaine said quickly, though Sebastian could see that Blaine understood exactly what he was insinuating.

"I'm just trying to help. My mom's a psychologist; maybe she can—"

"Screw you," Blaine said through gritted teeth. "Kurt doesn't need your help."

"I know he doesn't need my help," Sebastian replied patiently. "But he does need it from someone."

Blaine's eyes narrowed and he looked like he was about to say something further, but then he shook his head, turned, and marched out of the coffee shop. Sebastian let out a long breath, feeling stretched, and sat down to finish his homework.