Afternoon study hall on Wednesday found Mercedes, Tina, Rachel, and Blaine clustered around a table in the library. Blaine and Tina were quietly discussing the homework from their junior English class while Mercedes and Rachel attempted to concentrate on History. Rachel, however, was making this difficult for Mercedes since she continuously fidgeted and checked her phone every few seconds, barely paying any attention to the Battle of Waterloo at all.

"Rachel, this is a partner project," Mercedes finally snapped, making Blaine and Tina look up from their Hemingway texts. "I shouldn't be doing all the work while you text your boyfriend."

Rachel frowned (though to her credit, she did look a little guilty). "I'm not texting Finn," she said. "I'm waiting for him to text me."

"You still haven't heard from him?" asked Blaine.

Rachel shook her head. "No, and I'm beginning to actually worry."

"Wait, what happened?" Mercedes cut in, her annoyance at Rachel pushed aside (for now).

"I saw Finn in the weight room on Monday and he was upset about something," Blaine clarified. "Since then he's all but dropped off the grid."

"He hasn't returned any of my calls or texts," Rachel said, glancing at her phone again. "The only reason I haven't gone over to his house yet is because I'm frankly a little scared to."

Mercedes felt her stomach flip over. She'd noticed Finn's absence yesterday and today, but she hadn't thought he'd disappeared. If Finn was insisting this much on being alone, it was bad news either for him or for Kurt. Mercedes hoped that whatever the problem was, it was Finn's and not Kurt's. Kurt had enough to deal with, and Finn was more easily fixed.

Once school finally let out, Blaine steeled his nerves and drove to Finn and Kurt's house. Pulling up and parking at the curb, Blaine saw with no small amount of relief that Finn's pickup was the only vehicle in the driveway. Talking to Finn nowadays was always a little nerve-wracking, but that was nothing compared to the fear Blaine felt just thinking of having to face Burt or Carole (Burt especially). Besides, Blaine had faced Finn nearly every day at school, whereas the last time he'd seen Burt and Carole had been at the pool party for Kurt, and Burt had sent him more than one look making it clear just how much Burt didn't want him there.

Blaine took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He shivered as he walked up to the house, though he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold. He hesitated before he knocked on the door, not really sure he wanted to get involved with this again, but just as he was starting to consider turning back to his car, Finn pulled the door open.

"Hey," Blaine said quickly.

"Hey," Finn responded. Blaine couldn't quite tell if Finn's reaction was positive or negative, but he felt a little more confident when Finn jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, "I saw you through the window."

"Rachel's freaking out about you," Blaine informed him.

Finn gave a half-shrug, quirking an eyebrow. "I know, I've seen all nine hundred texts. I just… wanted some time off."

"Is everything okay?"

Finn shook his head. "Not really," he said tightly. "You want to come in?"

He turned and walked down the hall without giving Blaine a chance to accept or decline, leaving the door open. Blaine stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and loosening his scarf, though he didn't remove his coat. It felt incredibly strange to be standing in this house again, without the excited anticipation of spending the afternoon or weekend with Kurt.

Passing through the kitchen, Blaine entered the living room where Finn was just shutting off the TV. He plopped heavily onto the couch, leaving Blaine to sink nervously into the armchair to Finn's right.

"So… what's going on?" Blaine started, shifting in his seat. "Why'd you disappear?"

"Oh, I, uh…" Finn rubbed at the back of his neck. "I had kind of a big fight with my mom. It's fine; we talked and made up."

Blaine knew better than to ask what the fight was about. "Well, you should let Rachel know you're alive," he remarked. "She's about ready to send out a search party."

Finn chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I'll text her later," he said, sounding not all that concerned that his girlfriend was freaking out.

"Have you heard anything from the hospital?" Blaine ventured, his fingers twisting around each other in his lap.

Finn stared at him for a second, like he was trying to decide whether or not to say something potentially harmful. Instead, the only thing he did say was, "Kurt's having a really hard time."

Blaine swallowed. "Is… is there anything I can do?"

Finn shook his head, crossing his arms. "Nah, it's okay. I'm going to visit him this Saturday, so I'll let you know how he's doing."

Blaine nodded, not pushing any further. He wanted to help; he really did. But after everything that had gone down since January, he was fairly certain that the Hudson-Hummels didn't want his help. Not knowing what else to say, Blaine looked around the room, feeling very out of place and maybe a tiny bit unwelcome.

His eyes fell on a framed photo of Finn and Kurt on the shelf next to the TV. They were sitting next to each other at some restaurant Blaine didn't recognize, both laughing hard at a joke that had probably been told a few seconds before Burt or Carole snapped the picture. Blaine had seen the photo before – it was, after all, only about a year old – but what struck him about it now was how happy Kurt looked. Finn too.

Blaine didn't understand how everything had spiraled out of control so quickly, but he was pretty sure that a lot of it was his fault.

"What are you looking at?" Finn cut through Blaine's thoughts.

Blaine gestured to the photo. "That's a good picture of Kurt," he said.

Finn coughed lightly. "Actually, that's Zack."

Blaine blinked, his gaze snapping back to the picture. Looking more closely, he could now see with a horrible twisting in his gut that the laughing creases of Kurt's face were in the wrong places – his eyes squinted too tightly and his mouth a little too open.

"…Oh," he said, for lack of a better response.

Finn sighed. "Listen, I was talking to Burt…" he started. "I'm really sorry, but you can't come see him."

"What? Why?"

"The hospital only lets family members visit. I don't know if Kurt would want you to come, honestly, but even if he did it wouldn't be allowed."

Blaine released a heavy exhale, chastising himself for not realizing sooner. Of course they wouldn't let him. Wasn't it kind of common knowledge that mental hospitals were picky about the people they allowed through their doors?

An idea struck him then, and he turned his attention back to Finn. "Wait, what about a letter?" he asked. "If I wrote a letter to Kurt, would you take it to him?"

Finn considered this for a second, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I can't say for sure whether he'll read it, but I'll take it to him."

Blaine was only a little relieved, but he said thanks anyway, knowing it was the absolute most he could ask for.

Zack didn't like the playground any more. It was sunny but not warm, and without Tyler and Kurt it was boring. At least, it was boring when Truman was leaving him alone, which was becoming less and less often.

Zack asked Truman why he always wanted to play with him and not Craig or Robbie, but Truman had only responded with, "Because you're my favorite," which didn't actually explain anything.

Another thing Zack didn't understand was why Craig always got so mad every time Zack and Truman were playing together. Zack didn't like playing with Truman, but it wasn't Craig's business.

Eventually, Truman went up top for a while and Zack and Craig were left in the playground on their own (well, Robbie and Schism were there too, but Robbie hardly ever played with anyone and Schism never did). Craig grabbed Zack's arm and pulled him aside.

Zack immediately wrenched away. "Leave me alone!"

"You've got to stay away from Truman when I'm up top," Craig insisted, though he didn't reach for Zack's arm again.

"Why?" snapped Zack.

"He's hurting you, Z."

Zack shook his head vigorously, scuffing his foot against the ground. "No," he said. "We have fun."

"You call this fun?" Craig demanded, yanking Zack's arm forward and pushing up the sleeve to expose a few of the cigarette burns Zack had been trying to hide.

"Let go!" Zack shrieked, attempting to twist out of Craig's hold. Craig released him, and Zack edged away. "Don't touch me," he spat, glaring at Craig with as much ferocity as he could muster. "I hate it when you touch me."

Craig's eyes narrowed. "Then why the fuck do you let Truman anywhere near you?"

Zack squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling into fists. He wished Kurt or Tyler or Eleanor were here to make Craig go away. He hated Craig and he hated Truman, and all he wanted to do was to go somewhere quiet and alone.

But he was stuck here with them, so he braced himself and rather than answer Craig's question, he did what Eleanor would do.

"FUCK YOU!" he screamed, lashing at Craig with his fingernails.

Craig blinked and stepped back, and Zack turned and ran to the merry-go-round.

By now, Kurt had decided it was just better not to think anymore. During the day Franklin would take him out to the playground or they'd play around the house with Kurt's Hot Wheels collection, and it was okay. Everything was okay. Then as soon as Franklin said it was bedtime, Kurt would tense and beg for one more matchbox car race, one more round of Go Fish, one more movie. Franklin always said no, though, instead grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him upstairs.

Whatever Franklin wanted to do would last for awhile (Kurt didn't know how long) and then he'd give Kurt one last kiss or squeeze or rub between the legs before going back downstairs to sleep on the couch, leaving Kurt to put on his pajamas and tuck himself into bed.

Tonight ended a little differently.

As Franklin gripped Kurt around the waist, grunting barely loud enough to be heard over the static buzzing in Kurt's head, Kurt clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, his toes curling next to Franklin's knees. Kurt let out a strained groan when the final familiar burst exploded in his gut (he'd gotten good at keeping quiet during this, but at the very end it hurt way too much to stay silent). His lungs and insides burning, Kurt tried to breathe, waiting for Franklin to pull away and release the awful pressure in Kurt's belly.

But Franklin didn't, and Kurt felt terror tug at his stomach when instead Franklin moved to lie on his side, pulling Kurt with him. Beginning to panic, Kurt squirmed and tried to scoot away, but Franklin was still inside him and the movement caused a searing flame of electricity to shoot up his spine and into his head and down to his fingertips and toes. Franklin dropped an arm over Kurt's shoulders, not letting Kurt put any distance between them.

Unable to move and with panic clawing at the base of his skull, Kurt shut his eyes, shaking as he tried to ignore the stretching hot pressure sitting in the pit of his abdomen. As Franklin's breath fell lightly across the top of Kurt's head, Kurt dug his fingernails into his palms and counted to ten in his head, again and again until he fell into a desperate sleep.