Finn was fed up with school. He really was. With classes, with the annoying teachers who were either not concerned at all or tooconcerned, with the other kids who thought that he and his whole family was tainted. Nearly everyone aside from the Glee kids avoided him like the plague, afraid that if they got too close they would catch Kurt's… bad luck or insanity or whatever contagion they thought Finn was carrying. He was fed up with Mr. Schue's constant attempts to talk to him or get him to sing about his frustration. He was fed up with Quinn's disbelieving remarks and Sugar's insensitive comments about straitjackets and padded cells. He was fed up with Rory staring at the floor any time Kurt was mentioned, and he was fed up with Blaine being a selfish ass.

It was during lunch on Tuesday when he finally snapped.

For the most part, Finn's lunches were spent moodily stabbing at his food and eating only half of it while the rest of the club chatted. He had other things on his mind and he didn't have space in his head for football scores and homework assignments and song arrangements. Even Rachel had given up on trying to get him integrated, and resigned to just sitting next to him while he ate and she talked with the others.

On Tuesday, though, Tina suggested that the club put together a number or two to sing to Kurt at the hospital. "You know, as a kind of pick-me-up," she said. "He could use it."

Something in Finn's head clicked, and he dropped his fork onto his tray, his face hardening. "That's not going to happen," he snapped.

The entire club stared at him.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking that—" Tina started, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, well, whatever it is you had in mind? Holding hands and singing 'Kumbaya' in Kurt's hospital room isn't going to do a damn thing," Finn snarled. He was almost surprised by the vehemence in his voice, but he decided that he really didn't give a crap.

"Finn," Rachel said softly. "She's just trying to help."

"I know! Stop helping!"

Then, Quinn made the mistake of interjecting. "Finn, whatever Kurt is dealing with, he needs a support network," she said.

"He already has one!" Finn bellowed, lurching to his feet. Rachel flinched and leaned away from him.

"Well, he needs a bigger one," Quinn shouted back, also standing up. "You're acting all high-and-mighty because you think you're the only one dealing with this!"

Finn gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's rich coming from you," he spat.

"I'm Kurt's friend!" she yelled, determined to make herself heard. The majority of the people in the cafeteria had fallen silent. "I don't care if you agree with that or not, but we all care about Kurt, all right? Have you even thought about Rachel? Or Mercedes? They've known Kurt for even longer than you, and you're acting like you have more of a right to care about him than anyone else!"

"Screw you," Finn growled, his jaw tense. "Just… screw you. I'm done." He turned and stormed through the maze of awkwardly quiet tables, heading for the door.

"Grow up, Finn!" Quinn shouted after him. "He's not a broken toy!"

Finn's nerves felt heated as he approached the doors, his vision tinged with red. He was forced to stop in his tracks when someone jumped in front of him and thrust a tape recorder in his face.

"Finn, any comment on the hostilities just exchanged between you and Quinn Fabray?" Jacob inquired.

Not stopping to think even for a split second, Finn drew his fist back and punched Jacob in the nose. A sickening wet crack echoed across the silent room, making most of the people in it cringe as Jacob fell to the ground, howling and clutching his face. Blood was dripping onto the floor from around his fingers.

Finn stepped around him and slammed through the door. Someone else could clean up. It wasn't his job any more.

In the middle of history class, Miss Pillsbury stuck her head through the door and asked Ms. Hagberg to borrow Finn for a few minutes. Finn sighed, knowing exactly what she wanted him for, and followed her into the corridor.

"Let's have a little chat, okay?" Miss Pillsbury said, giving him a doll-ish smile before leading him down the hall to her office. "Have a seat," she said, plopping down into her own chair.

Finn sat, waiting for her to speak.

"So," she started, clasping her hands on the top of her desk. "I heard you had a little bit of a scuffle in the cafeteria earlier."

"Is Jacob's nose broken?"

"Yes."

"Awesome."

Miss Pillsbury's eyebrows shot up. "You're glad he's injured?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded. "He got what was coming to him. I'm sick of dealing with all the crap he gives us."

Miss Pillsbury tilted her head to the side, looking like some odd orange-haired cartoon bird. "'Us' being who?"

"Me," said Finn. "Kurt. Our parents. The rest of the kids in Glee. Everyone." His fingers tapped irritatedly against the arm of his chair. "Jacob's a piece of shit," he stated.

Miss Pillsbury pursed her tiny mouth. "Well, normally, I'd ask you to see Principal Figgins for using that kind of language, but I'm going to excuse it for now," she said.

"Why?"

"You're under a lot of pressure, Finn. You could use a break."

"You're treating me like I'm the one with split personalities," Finn snapped.

"Yes, about that…" Miss Pillsbury fiddled with a pen, clearly trying to keep her hands occupied. "How's life at home? Is everything all right?"

"That's a retarded question."

"Why?"

"My brother's insane. Obviously, things are crap." Finn could see that Miss Pillsbury was confused by his bitter language in regards to Kurt, but he was sick of dancing around the issue. He couldn't even dance literally – he shouldn't be expected to do so figuratively as well.

"Would you like to elaborate on that?" Miss Pillsbury asked. A polite way of saying Keep talking.

Finn turned his head to look out through the glass walls (and why were they glass? Didn't that defeat the purpose of a counselor's office?). "Not really," he said flatly.

Miss Pillsbury sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Finn, I need to know if you're okay."

Finn frowned at her. "Why?"

"It's my job. And I'm a little concerned."

"And by 'a little' you mean 'very.'"

Miss Pillsbury paused. "…Yes."

Finn shrugged, his leg jiggling against the floor. "Okay, well, what do you want me to say?"

She shrugged, her buoyant hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Just… tell me how you're feeling."

"Well, my brother's crazy and about to be shipped off to some nuthouse, people seem to think he's my responsibility, half the upstairs in my house is covered in blood, my girlfriend keeps asking me about our Valentine's Day plans, and my mom is so worried about Kurt that she's got no idea I failed my history test yesterday."

Miss Pillsbury stared at him for several seconds, as if she was waiting for him to keep spewing word-vomit. But Finn was done. "…I see," she said a moment later.

"No, you don't."

She swallowed. "You're lashing out, and that's understandable. You have to remember, though, I'm here to help you. And so is everyone else who loves and cares about you."

Finn was quiet, his leg shaking incessantly.

Miss Pillsbury's doe-like eyes seemed to grow smaller as she studied him, and he squirmed. "You said that Kurt's going into a home," she started. "Do you know where?"

He shook his head, staring intently at one of the bottles of hand sanitizer on her desk.

She laced her fingers in her lap, draping one leg over the other. "Whose idea was it?"

"Mine."

Her eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs. She hesitated before speaking again. "And… how do you feel about that?"

Finn grimaced at her, making her flinch. "Miss Pillsbury… no offense, but did they even cover this in counselor school?"

"…No."

"It shows."

As the two of them sat down to dinner, Emma quietly chewed her salad as Will prattled on about his ideas for Regionals arrangements, her mind elsewhere. She supposed she should be putting more effort into listening to what he was saying, but she was too preoccupied. She was confused, mostly. Confused by what little (or lot, depending on how you viewed it) she'd seen of Kurt's alters, confused by Finn's bitterness toward his stepbrother, and confused by the fact that all her years of training and experience seemed to be rendered useless. All it took was one boy – one problem that didn't fit the textbook – and she felt completely useless.

"Em?"

Her head snapped up. Will was watching her expectantly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked you what you thought of my ideas for the set list."

"Oh," she said. "Yes. Yes, it all sounds great."

Will put his fork down and propped his elbows on the table. "What's wrong?"

"No-nothing."

"Emma."

She sighed. She was a horrible liar and she knew it. Her skills of deception were even worse than her counseling. "It's Finn," she admitted. "Well… it's Finn, and Kurt, and everything else."

Will nodded. "I heard you had a meeting with Finn this afternoon," he said. "How'd that go?"

Emma pressed her lips together, fiddling with her napkin. "It opened my eyes to the fact that I really have no idea what I'm doing."

"I don't know what to do either," Will sighed. "How is he, by the way? Did he open up at all? 'Cause he hasn't with me."

She shook her head. "No, he's… he's clearly very upset, but he's not telling me everything. And he's not really himself – he was being very insensitive. Angry."

"I can't say I blame him for that," Will replied. "What can I do for him, though? Singing's not working; he's completely disconnected during rehearsal. Blaine too."

Emma gave him a small smile. "It's sweet that you think so, but the fact is that music isn't a cure-all. It doesn't work for everything and it doesn't work for everyone."

Will leaned back, raking his fingers through his hair. "Well, I need to do something," he said. "I can't just sit by and watch Finn and Blaine crumble."

"I don't really know what to tell you, Will." She chewed on her lip. "I'd suggest talking about it with them individually, but Finn was very resistant when I spoke with him, and the last time I met with Blaine he yelled at me and stormed out."

Will exhaled heavily. "They never taught us this in college."

"It's called abnormal psychology for a reason," Emma told him gently.

He winced. "Oh God, Emma, don't talk about Kurt like that."

"I wasn't talking about Kurt; I was talking about his problem. They're two separate things."

"Are they, though?" Will asked.

Emma stopped short, confused.

"I mean… What if Kurt is just another personality? Would we be able to tell?"

"I don't know. I'm completely out of my depth."