Kurt was discharged from St. Rita's on Thursday morning, and when Finn came home from school he found Kurt standing still in the upstairs hallway by the door to his bedroom.

"Kurt?" Finn said, hoping that it was actually his stepbrother standing there.

There was no response, so Finn reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt jumped.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked.

Kurt blinked. "Yeah," he said softly, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "I'm fine."

Finn didn't have to look down to know what Kurt was staring at, but he did anyway. The carpet beside Kurt's door and a large portion of the rug inside the bedroom bore an almost-black stain that, if one didn't look too closely, could be mistaken for mold. There was a large smudge in the middle where Carole had tried unsuccessfully to scrub it with a carpet brush.

"Mom said that she'll have them replaced, but she's been kinda busy," Finn said.

Kurt was quiet.

"Are you going to stand here all day?"

Kurt gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry, Finn, I'm just…" He let out a long breath through his nose, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Well, snap out of it," Finn said. "I need your help with something. Come on."

He walked down the hall to his own room and then waited for Kurt to follow, carefully sidestepping around the blackened bloodstain.

"I knew you'd ignore your laundry until I got back from the hospital," Kurt said the moment he walked into Finn's bedroom, eyeing the pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to the bed. "You couldn't even put them in the hamper?"

"There's the Kurt I know," Finn replied over his shoulder, opening his closet.

Kurt rolled his eyes, looking much more like himself. Having something to criticize always seemed to make him feel better. "So, what do you need help with? Rachel advice? Need me to do your Spanish homework?"

"Actually," Finn said. "I need fashion advice."

"Fa—" Kurt's jaw dropped and he mockingly put a hand to his chest. "Oh my God. We've got to call Dr. Goldberg. I'm not the only one who's got multiple personalities."

"Shut up, dude. It's for Sugar's Valentine's Day party at Breadsticks. She's insisting everybody dress up."

"Valentine's isn't until next Tuesday."

"Yeah, but Sugar's dad booked the party for Saturday 'cause that's the only time you can reserve the whole restaurant."

Kurt huffed. "I'll make a deal with you, since this is going to be the closest I'll get to a party for a long time," he said, crossing his arms. "I'll help you out so long as you clean up your laundry without making me do it."

Finn snorted. "Yeah, okay, deal."

"Shake on it," Kurt demanded, holding out his hand. Finn shook it. "Okay, then. What look are you going for?"

"Um… not naked?"

"Good starting point," Kurt said dryly, rummaging through the closet. "Let me rephrase – what sort of party is this?"

Finn made a face. "A Sugar Motta party."

"…Right."

"She's insisting that everyone bring a date, though – no singles allowed."

Kurt nodded thoughtfully, studying the haphazard collection of clothes in Finn's closet. "Okay, so… something sexy and not tooclassy, because God knows Sugar Motta seems to think 'rich' and 'classy' are synonymous…"

"I have no idea what that means."

Kurt was silent for several seconds, seeming deep in thought. Abruptly, he turned to Finn. "You got any gum?"

His voice had dropped to Truman's pitch, and Finn sighed, annoyed that Kurt didn't seem to be able to stick around for even a few minutes. "Gum's in the top drawer of my desk," he said.

Kurt returned to the closet a minute later, shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it onto the bed, gum smacking loudly between his teeth. "I like having something in my mouth; helps me think," he said. "So, you trying to get into her pants?"

Finn blinked. "Huh?"

The gum popped. "If I'm going to help you figure out what the fuck you're wearing, I've got to know what you're trying to accomplish with this chick. Guys don't think about what they wear unless it's for something specific."

"You're… helping me?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, now looking nothing like himself. "I hear everything, dude. And Kurt's advice would be to wear something that would not get you laid. Figured I might as well lend my services so you don't fuck up. Just 'cause I can't screw chicks doesn't mean that I can't enjoy other people doing so. You should see my porn collection."

"Gross."

"Don't tell Kurt, though. It's hidden on his laptop." Kurt winked with a grin.

Finn tried to change the subject. "I'm not trying to get laid, dude. Well, I'd like to, but I don't think I need to—"

"Wrong!" Kurt cut him off. "You do need to. A guy's number one mistake is thinking that the chicks are the only ones who've got to make themselves look fuckable."

Finn's jaw clacked shut.

An hour later, Kurt was kicking back on the bed while Finn examined himself in the mirror. Kurt – or rather Truman – had forced Finn into every imaginable combination of clothing from Finn's closet and finally settled on black jeans, a green t-shirt that was a little too small for him, and a black vest.

"This actually doesn't look bad," Finn said thoughtfully.

"Of course it doesn't," said Kurt. "That's because I'm a fucking expert. Please tell me you've got a pack of cigarettes somewhere in here. I need my nicotine fix, stat."

"Sorry, dude. Not really a smoker."

Kurt sat up with an astonished expression. "Never?"

"Well, Puck and I smoked for, like, a week in freshman year."

"Pussy."

Finn turned around. "Come on, dude, that's uncalled for."

Kurt shrugged, popping his gum loudly as he sat up. He took the gum out of his mouth and stuck it under the lip of Finn's desk. Finn grimaced, but said nothing.

"So, you think I'd be allowed past the door at this party?" Kurt asked.

"Probably not."

Kurt's tongue clicked against his teeth. "Damn it. I was hoping to score with a few of those sorority chicks Puck's bringing."

"How'd you know about them?" Finn frowned, pulling off the vest.

"Hacked Kurt's Facebook account."

"…You didn't send anything to anyone, did you?"

"Well, I 'poked' Puck, if that's what you mean," Kurt grinned.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Puck isn't gay."

"Whatever," Kurt said, forming a W with his fingers.

A moment later, Kurt's eyelids fluttered and he glanced around the room. "How much did I miss?" he asked.

"Just an hour," Finn answered, relieved.

Kurt ran his eyes over Finn's outfit. "That looks good, actually. Who came up with that?"

"Truman."

"Ah."

Finn sat on the bed next to him, and the two were silent for a long time. He could practically hear the gears in Kurt's head spinning, and he didn't have to ask to know that Kurt was trying to work up the courage to say something, so Finn stayed quiet and waited for Kurt to speak.

"I have to tell you something," Kurt finally said, breaking the silence.

Finn ran a hand over his hair. "If this is about you trying to kill yourself, I already know."

Kurt's eyes widened. "You—" His voice cracked and he had to start over. "You do?"

Finn nodded. "You're not as subtle as you think you are, dude."

Kurt looked for a moment like he was about to apologize for lying, but then he blurted out, "You know what 'subtle' means?"

Finn chuckled. "Don't get your hopes up. I still have no idea how to spell it."

He was caught off-guard when Kurt suddenly wrapped his arms around him. "Whoa," he said. "Hug ambush, much?"

"I just… thanks."

Kurt's head abruptly snapped up, and he turned to Finn with a look of revulsion. Finn immediately braced himself for a snap from Eleanor or a punch from Craig.

"Is that gum under your desk?" Kurt exclaimed, his voice still his own.

"Uh… I think Puck left that there," Finn said quickly.

"Boys are disgusting."