With his hands bandaged and his burns treated, Kurt returned to his room to find several of his remaining possessions strewn over the floor, the fragile pieces all smashed irreparably. Kurt sighed in annoyance and exhaustion, then retrieved the broom from the upstairs closet and set about sweeping up the damage. Still, it could have been worse.

Finn appeared in the doorway just as Kurt was sweeping the last few shards of what had been a picture frame into the dustpan. "Hey," he said. "Mom said you were back."

"Yeah, hi." Kurt glanced up at his stepbrother for a second before standing up and dumping the dustpan's contents into the trashcan by his desk. Finn stayed where he was, his jaw clenching like he was trying to figure out how to say something potentially harmful. "…You okay?" Kurt asked.

"I'm sorry I called you crazy," Finn blurted, his words rushing together.

Kurt blinked, too surprised to do anything but return the statement with a blank stare.

"…In the hospital, I mean," said Finn with a slight stammer. "I-I was just pissed and tired and— Are you mad at me?"

"No," Kurt said.

Finn nodded, still nervous. "Good."

"You were right."

Finn's head snapped up. "What? No, Kurt—"

"Finn, there's no point pretending I'm not missing a few crucial wingnuts, all right?" Kurt cut him off with a tone that was almost irritated, setting the broom back against the wall.

His stepbrother swallowed, then came over and sat on the end of Kurt's bed. "You know I don't actually think you're crazy, right?"

"Yes, you do," Kurt sighed. Finn opened his mouth to protest, but Kurt waved him off. "That's okay, though. There's no reason to expect anything different."

"No, I'm serious," Finn insisted, looking Kurt firmly in the eye. "I really don't think you're crazy. Like, at all."

Kurt frowned in confusion, not really sure where Finn was going with this or why he was doing this now. "…Why not?"

Finn shrugged, scratching at the hair behind his ear. "You've been through a lot of really scary crap, dude. Splitting so you can get rid of that stuff?" Another shrug. "That just seems like the most logical thing in the world."

For a moment, Kurt was elated at the notion that his brother thought he was actually a normal human being, but then he remembered exactly why Finn had come into his room in the first place, and his frown deepened. "Well, then why did you say I was insane?" he asked levelly. "People tend to speak honestly when they're that pissed off."

A shadow flitted over Finn's face and he looked away. "I wasn't talking about the alters," he said. "I was talking about what you did to yourself to end up in the hospital. That was crazy, and I'll stand by that."

"…You just said you were sorry for saying it."

"I am. But I wasn't wrong, and I swear to God that if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'm going to punch you in the nuts."

Kurt's jaw clacked shut.

After Finn had gone to bed and Kurt had completely finished cleaning up his room, Kurt headed downstairs, feeling restless. In the kitchen, he found Burt sitting at the table with a mug in his hands and a weary expression.

"Since when do you drink tea?" Kurt greeted him.

Burt glanced up, rubbing his eyes. "Since Carole started bugging me to take sleeping aids. I don't want the pills, so chamomile it is." He raised the mug in Kurt's direction before taking a sip.

Kurt sat down across from him, not really sure if he wanted to think about just how much sleep his father was losing every night because of him. "Well, at least someone's looking out for your health while I'm not here." They fell into a long silence punctuated by an occasional quiet slurp as Burt drank his tea. Kurt leaned his chin on his fist. "Are you okay, Dad?"

Burt gave a forced smile and flapped a hand at him. "You've got enough to worry about, kiddo. You don't need to listen to me grumble."

Kurt made a face. "Oh, come on, Dad. Don't do that." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You always want to know how I'm doing; it goes both ways."

His dad sighed, staring into his still slightly steaming mug. "Okay," he said eventually, taking a sip and looking Kurt in the eye. "I'm pissed off."

Kurt tried not to wince as he felt his heart try to wriggle back and hide behind his lungs. "…About the burns?" he asked, trying not to let his voice shake.

"Well, that's part of it," Burt replied candidly, rubbing a hand over his forehead and pulling off his baseball cap to toss it onto the table between them. "Kurt, you… you don't have a right to hide something like that from me. You're right – it's got to go two ways, but that means you've got to hold up your end of the bargain."

Kurt swallowed. "I was just… scared." It was a lame excuse at best, Kurt knew.

"How do you think I feel?" Burt snapped curtly. Kurt flinched, not quite subtly enough for Burt to miss, and Burt's tone softened. "Kurt, when Carole told me about the burns, I…" He trailed off for a second, shaking his head. "I really didn't know what to do. They don't exactly train parents for this kind of thing, you know? And that… It was a hell of a lot more terrifying than Craig pushing me into traffic."

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, his eyes burning.

Burt shook his head again. "Kurt, I am so proud to be your dad. Really. I don't think there are enough words in the English language to express that. Just the fact that you've made it this far is incredible, and I'm not a religious guy but I still thank God every day that you were born."

Kurt stared at the tabletop, his throat stretching painfully as shame and embarrassment clawed at the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't ready for his dad to be talking about him like this.

Burt wasn't finished, though, and Kurt remained stock still while he continued. "But as proud as I am? I am just as angry that you got dealt the hand you did. I'm pissed that you have to go through all this, I'm pissed that someone even thought it was okay to hurt you, I'm pissed that we don't even know who hurt you, I'm pissed that your mom's not here, and I'm pissed that I couldn't protect you from any of this."

Kurt flinched a second time as Burt's voice cracked on the last few words. "You've done the best you can, Dad," he said.

"Apparently my best wasn't enough," Burt muttered. He huffed, sniffed, and leaned back. "Well, I think the tea's starting to kick in, so I'm gonna hit the sack." Yawning, he stood up and ran a hand absentmindedly over his scalp.

Kurt stood up as well. "I think I'll make some coffee."

"Don't feel like sleeping?"

Kurt shrugged. "Not really."

Burt didn't question it, instead choosing to pull Kurt into a tight bear hug. Kurt took a deep breath, relieved that his dad still felt just as solid as he had for the entire duration of Kurt's life. Nothing else had quite held its form for that long.

"I love you, all right?" Burt said, a hand on the back of Kurt's head.

Kurt nodded against Burt's shoulder. "I love you too," he said, completely failing at keeping his voice steady.

Finally, Burt let go and stepped back. "Try to get some sleep, okay?" He gave Kurt's shoulder one last firm pat before bidding him a good night and heading upstairs.

"Shut up and hold still."

"God, that's good."

"You're the best I ever had, Kurt. You want some cake?"

"That's it, right there— GOD—"

"You have to do what I say, or your dad's gonna be pissed."

"Watch the teeth."

"Use your tongue, damn it. Pretend it's an ice cream cone."

Kurt woke up covered in sweat, and immediately emptied his stomach into the trash can by his bed.