The petite nurse stops in on her way back to the nurses' station and pats Kurt on the arm in a comforting gesture ( and one that he does not shy away from as Will would expect from his normal behavior at school). She tells him with a conspiratorial smile that they will be very busy at the desk doing paperwork – five minutes, no more—and Will watches him slip quietly down the gleaming white hallway into his father's room, after giving her a grateful little smile.

Then again, at school, Will suspects, most of the hands reaching for Kurt often mean him harm. And Kurt has been, if anything, even more prickly than usual this week. His friends have been sort of caught up in the religion issue, and not cutting him much slack for the emotional turmoil he's going through. Now that Will has seen it up close, he wishes he'd said more to them about supporting Kurt in a time when he needs his friends and doesn't know how to ask. He hasn't even seen Mercedes hug Kurt since Will had had had to tell them they couldn't sing about their faith anymore.

Will ends up taking Kurt down to the cafeteria for breakfast, watching him silently pick apart a fruit and yogurt concoction and not eat more than a few bites. (A grape. A spoonful of the yogurt. Two bites of melon. Half a strawberry. Not that Will's counting.)

The only thing on the table that gets finished is the coffee, with Kurt matching Will's three cups, black, though Kurt puts in a scant teaspoon of Splenda. He spends a long time stirring it, slowly. Watching the dark liquid swirl. He doesn't look at Will.

Finally, Will breaks the silence. "Kurt. Do you need a ride home… or… anything?"

Kurt glances at him in surprise. The sun is beginning to paint the sky gold and just a little bit pink. There will be rain today, Will thinks, remembering old farmers' wisdom. With the daylight, the vulnerable, scared kid Will held a short time ago is being pushed back, locked in behind all of Kurt's usual defenses. Will can see it happening.

It hurts to watch it.

"No, thanks," Kurt is polite, but a little cool now, and distant. "My car is here." He looks out the window for a few moments, then back over at Will with a flash of what might pass for normal Kurt Hummel defiance. "Dad took the keys away last week after I got sent to Fi- to Principal Figgins' office," and the resentment that edges his voice is clearly meant for Will more than for his father's punishment. "But under the circumstances, I figured he wouldn't want me stranded without transportation."

Will looks down to hide the pang of guilt that stabs at him. He was right to send Kurt to the office, he's sure of it – there was a line between disagreement and disrespect, and Kurt had crossed it with his last few words. And there was no way to predict that within a week his student would be facing this. He looks back up; Kurt is back to staring bleakly into the depths of his coffee cup again, his expression unguarded for the moment because he doesn't realize Will is looking at him again.

Or maybe he's just too tired to hide any more.

When he looks up and meets Will's eyes, for a moment Will's convinced that Kurt is about to go off on him again, but the young man just sighs and looks back out the window at the sunrise. "Thanks for…" he gestures at the table, but somehow Will knows it includes the whole night, "…everything, Mr. Schuester. I'll see you in school."

He's up and gone before Will can say anything else, scooping up his book-bag, not looking back. Will is left staring at Kurt's barely-touched breakfast and with all his questions still unanswered.

Well, not really. He knows now. Kurt is struggling to handle this alone, and barely keeping it together. It's wearing him down - and not slowly any more.

If his father… dies… Kurt will really be alone, and Will thinks that might just break him. If that happens, who will be there to hold him together?