The news had come so suddenly that at first he had thought it to be some sort of cruel, humorless joke. The whitewashed walls of Ms. Pillsbury's room suddenly seemed too dull, too cold and too cramped for his liking. No, thinking of it now this wasn't even the room he had sat in when she had spoken to him about his 'substance abuse problem'. That room had been full of hope that his slight lapse in judgement could make him a stronger person in the end. This wasn't the same room, he didn't feel that sense of comfort here. He must have heard wrong.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry."

Yes, he hadn't heard her properly. The quiver in her voice was merely the result of the echo against the walls; the tears in her eyes were only a trick of the light. This wasn't happening.

"You have no reason to be sorry," he started, then stalled. Though Kurt didn't know what Ms. Pillsbury had been apologizing for he knew she couldn't have done anything wrong. And God, he needed her to stop looking at him like that. Kurt had lived a lifetime of seeing that look. He wanted it to go away.

But the look wasn't going away. Ms. Pillsbury wasn't going away, and the room surrounding him definitely wasn't going anywhere. If anything it seemed to be shrinking with each passing moment. He needed out.

"Kurt, honey-" The chair's screeching legs cut her off as they slid forcefully across the linoleum flooring and into the window behind Kurt. The noise beat through his ears like a base drum but the sound hardly registered. Outside a few students had turned to stare. One of them, he noticed, was in the midst of adjusting the settings on his camera phone. Kurt chuckled internally. Funny how not one had ever stopped to look during any of his morning dumpster dives, but the moment he shows signs of breaking down they all came along with cell phones out to watch the ride.

Was that what this was? A breakdown? Impossible. Kurt Hummel did not break down. Ever. And if for some chance he did, it certainly wouldn't be in public. The thought of everything just seemed too overwhelming, leading him to realize that his internal chuckle had transformed into a quiet, maniacal laughter. Or was he crying?

"Sit down, please Kurt? Sit down and we'll wait for someone to come get you, okay?" How long had she been talking? The look was still in her eyes, but it didn't seem to matter as much anymore. The room was too small. The air was too heavy. He couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury, but regrettably I must be leaving now. I have classes to attend, as you very well know." Kurt raised his chin so that he was looking down at her. His face seemed wet. There must be a leak somewhere in the ceiling. There must be; it couldn't be him. Kurt Hummel did not cry in public. Hell, as far as anyone knew, Kurt Hummel did not cry.

Against her feeble protests Kurt turned on his heels to exit her office, thinking all the way that a door had never seemed to be so far away before in his life.

Outside her room the air seemed lighter and he could breathe again. A draft was coming from somewhere, the coldness of it all stabbed at his lungs but he could breathe. Standing a moment he inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain that settled deep within his chest. He could breathe. Nothing else mattered as long as he could breathe.

Correction. Nothing mattered as long as he could breathe, and as long as people stopped closing in on his space. Before him stood fifteen or so individuals with apparently nothing better to do that watch him like hungry lions watching a gazelle that had separated from its herd.

"What are you staring at," he snapped. Another few students halted to watch. What was going on? "Go on you ignorant buffoons. GO!" Kurt lunged falsely in the direction of the masses, but they were not deterred. "What is the matter with all of you? There's nothing to see here, move along. Get out, NOW!" He briefly felt the shift from Regular-Kurt to Bitch-Kurt, but he was beyond caring. Again the halls felt smaller, and the number of people kept growing. He couldn't do this. They needed to go away.

"I said GET THE FUCK OUT!" He screeched as he shoved the nearest teen away from him. The herd took a few steps away, but it wasn't enough. "MOVE!" More students were shoved into each other as they fell, but not one turned to leave.

"Kurt, stop!" He heard it but he didn't care. He felt the people around him getting closer but he couldn't see. Damn that leak must be strong.

"Oh Will thank goodness you're here."

"Alright everyone back to class now, all of you."

There was shuffling. The panic began to subside. Kurt tried to breathe again, but it hurt so much.

"I can't breathe," he whispered. Though he still couldn't see he knew Mr. Schuester was there. On any other occasion he would have felt annoyed with the teacher for trying to fight his battles for him when he was so oblivious to the bullying he faced every day, but today he didn't want to feel.

"It's okay Kurt. Just try. In and out. Just in and out." Any other day this would have been met with a crude remark. Today those words were the only thing reminding him how to live. He was grateful for it.

"It hurts, oh God, it hurts."

"I know, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

Emma looked at Will who was cradling the boy in his arms. The moment Will had touched him Kurt had collapsed into a heap on the floor. Meeting his eyes she saw that he looked as lost as she felt. In all her years of counselling students this was the first time she had felt so completely lost.

"Is there anyone we can call?" Will asked, his eyes pleading with her to say yes.

"No." Her voice cracked as she looked at Kurt. "His dad was all he had."