As much as Tina tended to blend into the background most of the time, she made a point to pay attention to the things that happened with all the other members of her little show choir social circle. She was a natural gossip, and so it was fairly easy for her to keep track of all the different quarrels, relationships, breakups, and fall-outs between the fourteen other members of the club, so long as she wasn't involved herself.

She didn't know if trying to keep Mercedes from losing it and Rachel and Quinn from tearing each other's hair out qualified as involvement, but it was about as involved as she cared to be.

It wasn't that Tina didn't care or worry about Kurt, of course. He was one of her first real friends, after all. But someone had to step up and manage all the chess pieces on the board, and it was a job that almost always fell to her.

So at lunch on Friday when Quinn changed the topic of conversation to ask Finn if it was true that Kurt had been admitted to the hospital, Tina's radar screen immediately blipped and her field of focus expanded to keep an eye on the people closest to Kurt, all four of whom (Finn, Rachel, Blaine, and Mercedes) had quickly tensed at Quinn's inquiry. The rest of the table fell silent.

"He hasn't moved in yet," Finn answered hesitantly. "But yeah, he's been admitted."

"When does he leave?" asked Blaine softly. Tina was pretty sure she was the only one who noticed just how much Blaine's shoulders had begun to slump.

"Sunday."

"Wow," said Mike. "That's… soon."

Finn nodded wordlessly, toying with the food on his tray.

"Are there going to be other people like him there?" Rory piped up from the other end of the table.

Tina could tell that Finn was already done with answering questions, but he replied anyway with a shake of the head. "I don't think so. Kurt's got kind of a rare problem, and it's not really a place that specializes in any one thing."

"But… isn't that what he needs?"

Tina's jaw clenched and she wanted to stand up, walk over to Rory, and slap the ignorant Irishman soundly across the face, but Santana beat her to the punch and kicked him hard in the shin. He let out a yelp of surprise and scooted his chair a few inches away from Santana and closer to Sugar.

"Do you think the treatment will work?" Mercedes asked, her voice wavering. Tina reached over to squeeze her hand.

Finn let out a long breath. "I don't know."

"We should do something for him," Sam cut in. "Just so he knows we support him."

Tina's eyebrows shot up when Puck was the first to latch on to the suggestion. "Yeah, we could totally throw him a party and send him off in style," he grinned.

Finn grimaced at Puck. "Dude, I'm pretty sure a party's just going to make things worse."

Puck gave him a mockingly offended look. "Not that kind of party, dumbass," he drawled. "I meant something really mellow, like… I don't know, a picnic in the park."

"…It's February."

Puck shrugged. "We could take him to Breadstix, then. I don't know. Kurt could pick it himself."

Finn huffed, half amused and half annoyed, and acquiesced. "Okay, fine. I'll talk to him about it tonight."

"We should get him a present, too," Rachel said, nodding resolutely to herself. "Just in case the party thing falls through. Something from all of us to have in the hospital while he gets better."

Tina jumped when Puck suddenly clapped his hands loudly. "I have the perfect idea."

"Not anything illegal," Finn interrupted pointedly.

"Would you shut up and give me some credit?" Puck said. "I promise, Kurt's going to love it."

Finn didn't get home until almost five, since Glee rehearsal had run a little late, and as soon as he hung up his coat in the kitchen he knew something was wrong. Kurt was sitting at the kitchen table, though it was immediately obvious that Eleanor was currently behind the wheel. Carole was standing by the counter, wringing her hands, and Burt was beside her, somehow managing to look livid and terrified at the same time.

"…What's going on?"

Kurt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the wall. "They're being fucking annoying, that's what," he spat.

"This is not about you, Eleanor!" Burt bellowed, and Carole grabbed his arm. Finn flinched.

"I KNOW!" Kurt yelled back, his fists banging against the table. "I'm sick of you blaming me for everything! I'm not showing you because Kurt doesn't want me to!"

Burt's jaw twitched, and Finn remained frozen where he was, still confused and more than a little alarmed. Burt was freakingscary when he wanted to be. "Well, Kurt's just going to have to get over it," Burt snarled.

Kurt let out a hoarse, stretched chuckle, his mouth twisting into a half-smile. "Where the hell have you been? Kurt can't 'get over'anything."

Burt lurched forward then, looking almost ready to drive his fist through a wall. Carole gripped his shoulder, keeping him steady. "Let me talk to my son," Burt demanded, his voice thick and cracked.

"Don't you get it?" Kurt cried. "He doesn't want to talk to you!"

"You think you're helping him, Eleanor, but you're not!" Burt shouted. "Bring Kurt back!"

"No!"

"BRING HIM BACK!"

"FUCK YOU!" Kurt screamed. He launched to his feet and grabbed the edge of the table, flipping it over with a loud crash.

Finn swallowed and shifted where he stood, not sure if he should step in. Carole was crying quietly with a hand over her mouth, and Kurt was standing over the upset table, his eyes burning and his fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides.

"Why do you always think everything is my fault?" Kurt demanded furiously.

"Because it usually is!" Burt roared. "All you care about – all you've ever cared about – is hurting him! You're sick and cruel, andnobody wants you!"

Finn tensed, holding his breath as Kurt's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "Nobody ever wants me," he snarled under his breath. "But Kurt needs me. He doesn't need you. And I'm not just going to disappear."

Burt's mouth pressed into a thin line and he drew a long breath, speaking with a harsh growl. "Show me the burns," he said slowly, and Finn's heart skipped several beats. What burns?

Kurt crossed his arms. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" Kurt screeched, his voice abruptly surging in volume. "EVERYTHING! IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Burt froze, and Carole gripped his arm again, her gaze jumping back and forth between Burt, Kurt, and Finn. No one moved for several seconds, at a complete loss for how to react to Kurt's accusation.

After a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours, Kurt's eyelids fluttered and his shoulders slumped, swaying on his feet. Finn remained tense by the door, not sure what to expect. He mentally steeled himself just in case it was Craig who had snatched the wheels away from Eleanor.

"What happened to the table?" asked a small, curious voice.

Finn relaxed somewhat. It was only Zack.

"Zack, I need you to do something for me," Burt said as steadily as he could manage, his words still vibrating with his remaining anger.

Kurt scuffed a shoe against the floor, chewing on a thumbnail. "What is it?"

"I want you to take off your shirt."

Kurt's head snapped up. "Why?"

"Carole says you've been hiding something from us," Burt replied. Kurt shook his head, but Burt continued. "Zack, did someone do something to you?"

"No."

"Zack. Tell the truth."

"No one did anything."

"Then take off your shirt and show me."

Kurt curled his arms around his torso, edging away. The hairs on Finn's neck prickled.

"Go away," Kurt said, glaring at his father as he took another step back.

"I'm not going anywhere," Burt snapped. "Not until you show me the burns."

"Go away." Another step.

"Take off your shirt."

"Go away." Two steps.

Finn shifted nervously. Something wasn't right. "Burt," he said. "Maybe we should give him a minute?"

"I've given him all day!" Burt cried. "I want to see what the hell happened to my son!"

"Go away."

"I'm not going anywhere," Burt repeated. "I'm your father."

"No, you're not. Craig is."

Still hugging his torso, Kurt turned and ran out of the room. His bedroom door slammed upstairs, and it was only a few moments before the screaming started.