Kurt’s eyes viewed the school differently now; for some reason or other he was now inextricably linked to this place. It was as if some omniscient being had suddenly turned up the contrast ratio; now whites were whiter and blacks, blacker. His friends meant more to him at this moment than at any other point in his life, so did his family. He supposed it could be some psychological hang up from the whole experience; post-traumatic something, even. Whatever it was, it felt real and lasting. Kurt was stronger.

With Puck back, the Glee club began to come back together. Together again, in the choir room, there was an odd sense of stagnation. They had done all their preparation with the previous weekend in mind as their crowning glory; yet they would have to wait three more weeks now. Kurt, especially, was unnerved by the fresh start, despite all his longing for normality. Because, stepping through those doors for the first time in a week, seeing the fresh plaster on the walls and the stand-in upright piano, he realised that this room represented the entire experience of that night for his friends. Whereas his memories were tied to the corridors and the locker room, theirs were linked to this place that had been something of a haven for them from the rest of the school. He saw how that might have been shattered, and it scared him. He looked around at his friends as they sat in their usual chairs. All were silent, looking around, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Rachel sat next to Finn, Quinn had retired to the other end of a row, but her stance held no anger. Kurt saw that something unspoken had happened between them. Puck had looked towards the drum kit and speakers for a long moment, and then had turned to Lauren and taken her hand.

Mr Schuester sat across from them, on his usual stool. He was watching them as Kurt had been, considering the situation. This was something not covered by his teacher training. Finally he rose, sighing, and pressing his hands together.

“Ok.”

He let the sound of the word dissipate as his eyes travelled over every face.

“This is what we are going to do...”
-
Finn walked hesitantly into the lunch hall, now patched and cleared of debris. He’d told Kurt he’d wait for him to go to lunch, but had received a text at the last minute saying to go on in without him; that Kurt was sorting something out and would go it later with Brit and Santana. Finn didn’t know how Kurt could be so positive now, so energised and ready to help, so willing to think of others. Even the silly abandonment of Kurt’s text made slight panic rise inside Finn. The inspiration and hope of Mr Schue’s rallying talk was beginning to wear off.

But he’d managed to press himself on through the swinging, swishing doors, and now stood, surveying the messy, busy room. Trying to blend in, he ducked to the side and picked up a tray, pilling random bits of food onto it and walking to the register. He could simply walk through and dump it in the trash if he needed, and then hide out in the library and pretend he was doing some work until the bell went. Yeah; that sounded ok.

So he paid and moved off. Walking past a table of sophomore girls, he thought he heard their talk pause, and then resume in a whisper. He felt eyes latching onto his back. He wanted to turn around and face them, ask them what their problem was, what rumour they’d heard. The girls burst into giggles as one behind him and continued their conversation. Finn heard something about the Jonas Brothers. Perhaps he’d been wrong.

Suddenly his way was blocked by a familiar pastel sweater.

“Finn?”

He looked up. Rachel.

“Hi.”

His voice was tiny; where had all his energy and confidence gone?

“Where are you going?”

She looked behind herself at the path he had been taking. It led straight to the trash cans and the back door.

“We were calling to you. Didn’t you hear us?”

Finn followed her eyes. He saw Mercedes, Artie, Puck, Lauren, Mike and Tina. Sam was just returning from the drinks machine. They were all looking over at him, smiling. Even Puck, who’d looked beyond help at the beginning of the day.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Finn didn’t know what to do. His plans were changing again. But Rachel took hold of his arm and led him towards the group. They sat down at the end of the table and a normal flow of conversation started up again around them.

Finn listened but didn’t know when to come in. He kept wondering what Kurt was doing. He picked at his food, turning it over and over. Rachel kept looking at him.

“Finn?”

“Hmmm?”

He’d zoned out again. He glanced up. Only Rachel was looking at him; the others were involved in some secret game to flick rice into Mike’s water without him noticing.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah…Sorry; just a bit tired. That’s all.”

She gave him a look that told him he wasn’t fooling anyone. Great; his emotions readable even to the girl who’d written ‘My Headband’. She slid her hand across the table and took hold of his. Mercedes glanced at them for a second, but then took a soggy slice of carrot to the side of her face. She turned back, fork raised to face the assailant.

“Finn…It’s ok to think about yourself, you know?”

“What?”

What was she talking about? He’d been thinking about nothing but himself; that was one of the biggest weights on his mind, how selfish he’d been.

“Everyone can see how much this is worrying you, but you don’t have to take everything on your own shoulders. You don’t have to keep on being the hero.”

“What are you talking about?”

Finn hated how close this was getting to the raw truth of his emotions. He stared down into his food again and tried to pull his hand away, but Rachel dropped her fork and closed her other hand around his.

“No, Finn. You need to talk about this…”

“What if I don’t want to talk, huh?”

His voice was quiet, but angry.

“I don’t care. I’m making you.”

Finn became horribly aware that the rest of the table was watching them now.

“You did so much for Kurt, so much for David, and for all of us. But you need to stop and look after yourself. If you don’t, then you’re just wasting the time you’re putting in to helping everyone else.”

Finn swallowed, even though his mouth was empty.

“How, Rachel? How can I do that? When Kurt needs me, and Burt needs me, and my mom needs me, and this club needs me?”

He felt himself growing genuinely angry now. It worked its way to the surface through his numbness.

Rachel glanced at her friends, then lowered her voice too, letting her temper seep into it.

“Yes, yes we all need you. But we need the real you; not this…not this shell. Alright? We need the Finn we saw on that night, and in the days after; before he forgot that he was just a human going through the same things as us all. And now what are you doing? Not eating, not talking unless it’s about someone else, having to physically force yourself through the door to the choir room?”

Finn winced at her words as they reached the heart of his pain.

“Don’t think we don’t notice, Finn. Don’t think you can hide it from people who care about you. Because you know what? I need you, too. The real you. The you I love.”

Finn stopped playing with his food and kicking at his chair. He looked up, into Rachel’s honest eyes. And saw all his mistakes. He put his head in his hands, still holding hers so that her fingers ran up into his hair.

“Shit…I…I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

He felt hands on his back. He lifted his head. Mercedes, Artie, Puck…all of them. They’d all come behind him and laid their hands on his shoulders.

“We got’ya, man.” Said Puck. “Just like you had us.”

“And we’ll all still be here at the end.” Added Rachel, stroking his hair back from his face. “I don’t mind waiting.”