Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Mama Who Bore Me".

Note: So yeah. Here you go. Just something I've been working on/off for a couple months. Review? Enjoy?

Noah Puckerman strode into the boys' bathroom after lunch, perilously close to the bell that would ring to signal the start of class. "Damn, I'm sexy," he muttered to himself as he looked in the mirror at his rugged reflection. In the midst of silence, he heard the nauseating sounds of someone throwing up in one of the stalls behind him. "Hey, you okay in there?" Though he rarely showed it, Noah Puckerman did have a softer, gentler side to him.

"Yeah, fine," a familiar, choked and hoarse voice called back. Puck pushed the door open in shock.

"Hummel?" The normally pale soprano looked paler than Puck had ever seen him before. "Oh, geez, man," he said, noticing how much puke was in the toilet, and how severely Kurt was shaking. Puck helped Kurt to his feet and flushed the toilet. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, handing Kurt a wet paper towel. Kurt took it wordlessly, tremors evident in his hands as he wiped at his face disgustedly. "You okay, man? You look like you're about to faint harder than Hudson did during hell week," Puck joked with the oddly silent counter tenor.

"Oh, that mystery meat at lunch must not have agreed with me," Kurt said. "I'll be fine now."

"Hey, you sure? You really don't look good, dude."

"I'll be fine, Puckerman. And don't call me dude. Why do you care about me anyway? Last time you talked to me, you threw me in a dumpster the day after the cafeteria served its infamous chili."

Puck looked embarrassed. "Sorry about that. Got a rep to protect, you know?"

"No," Kurt said shortly. "No, I really don't." He picked up his bag, heading for the door before pausing slightly, voice hesitant and soft. "But thanks, anyway." He pushed the door open and walked out quickly, putting a fake jaunt in his step and an ice bitch mask on his face. Puck, not being convinced in the slightest that Kurt was telling the truth, hurried to the choir room, where he found the rest of New Directions.

"Hey, Puck. Have you seen Kurt?" Mr. Schue asked. "Yeah, I was just in the bathroom with him. He might have gone home or something 'cause I found him throwing up in there. Not that I care or anything," he quickly added, lest they think he was getting soft. "Is he okay?" Schue inquired, ignoring Puck's remark.

"He said he would be. I don't believe him."

"Why's that, Puck?" Mr. Schue asked curiously, quite worried.

"He looked real pale and he was shaking pretty bad," Puck admitted, running a hand over his Mohawk. The rest of the group, listening in curiously, threw in their own comments. "I heard him throwing up in there last week, too," Mike said. "Did he give you that mystery meat excuse, too?"

"Yeah," Puck said.

"I sometimes hear him puking at night," Finn admitted. "He thinks I don't hear him, but I do."

Tina gasped. "You don't think he's...?" Mr. Schue sighed. He'd seen this so many times, being a high school teacher. Of course, he usually saw it in girls, but Kurt was obviously an exception to that. He was about to speak, when Mercedes burst out.

"Yeah right, y'all are a bunch of idiots. My man Kurt would never do something as idiotic as that," she glared at them. "Guys, I think we need to talk to Kurt about this calmly before accusing him of anything. If we outright confront him, he will pull away from us. I know he will. I've seen this before. We need to be there and support him without overwhelming him."

Finn raised his hand. "I'll talk to him," he offered.

Artie nudged him. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'll talk to him. Trust me, Finn. I've known Kurt longer than you have. He'll listen to me," Artie reassured Finn, knowing that if the tall teenager was to talk to Kurt, a lot more would go wrong than already was.

Mr. Schue clapped his hands together. "So. It's settled, then. Artie will talk to Kurt about this problem. And we'll ALL be there for him, together." The rest of the club nodded solemnly; they would help their brother in need.

Dinnertime, the Hummel-Hudson household

"Kurt! Finn! Dinner's ready!" Carole called up the stairs, wiping her hands on a dish cloth. Almost immediately, Finn could be heard clomping down the stairs, but there was silence from Kurt's room. Carole, frowning, made her way up the stairs and knocked lightly on Kurt's door before pushing it open to find Kurt laying face down on his bed atop the covers. "Kurt? Honey?" she murmured softly, brows furrowed as she moved over to the side of his bed.
"M'not hungry," Kurt mumbled into his pillow. "I ate a big lunch. Tacos." The obvious lie only made Carole more worried, and she rested a hand gently on his back.
"Sweetheart, you've got to eat a little something. Just a little bit, okay? I made your favorite, whole wheat pasta with pesto and grilled chicken," she tempted him, frowning slightly at the feel of how bony Kurt's spine was.

With a deep sigh, Kurt pulled himself up onto his elbows. "I guess…" he murmured, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. He knew if he went down there he was going to eat it…he was so hungry. They say that after a while of not eating, you don't feel the hunger anymore…but this gnawing ache at the pit of his stomach never seemed to go away. He would end up gorging himself, only to force it all back up later. Ah well…it was all relative right? As long as he got it out after, it shouldn't be a problem. Literally empty calories. Slowly, with a slight wince in his face at his aching body, he got himself out of bed. He allowed Carole to pull him into a hug, and he couldn't deny that it felt nice, but at the same time he felt so guilty. He didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve to have this amazing family, these wonderful friends.

Sighing quietly, he pulled back from the hug and allowed her to lead him downstairs. Burt and Finn were already at the table, chatting about some inane football game. They both grew quiet as Carole and Kurt came to the table, and Finn gave Kurt an odd, almost suspicious look, but didn't say anything. Burt patted Kurt on the shoulder, pulling him down to sit in the chair beside him. It was Finn, oddly enough, that began ladling out the food, but his reasoning became clear as he filled Kurt's plate with nearly as much as Finn himself would eat. Kurt glared at him but stayed silent, poking at his food and shuffling it around his plate once everyone was served.
The table was silent besides the clink of cutlery on china and the intermittent request to pass the cheese. Kurt held back as long as he could, cutting the chicken and pasta up into tiny bite sized pieces and moving it around his plate, but under Finn's slightly harsh stare he meekly took a bite. He almost moaned at the flavors bursting in his mouth, salivating at the sharp bite of provolone and the wild flavor of the pesto. The first bite was like taking an addict in remission taking a shot of heroin again. He couldn't stop himself, he couldn't even think of what he was doing, and before long, he looked down to see an empty plate. The feeling of horror overtaking him must have been well hidden, however, because Finn looked at him with a beaming smile. Gulping down an entire glass of diet Coke, he excused himself quickly and shoved away from the table, striding quickly to his bathroom and shutting the door. The carbonation in the soda worked its magic, and the dinner was coming up his throat almost before he had his fingers pressing down on his tongue.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gagged painfully into the toilet, cheeks flushed and eyes reddened. He slumped down onto the floor, clutching onto the sides of the toilet even after everything had come out and he was reduced to dry heaves. Pain laced his torso, his throat burning with imperishable fire. When he finally managed to stand, he flushed the toilet and shakily made his way to the sink to rinse his mouth and wash his hands. His lips were cherry red, and as he opened his mouth he could see the sores forming inside. He sighed and returned to his bedroom. Finn, unbeknownst to him, was hiding in the hall closet next to the bathroom. Finn closed his eyes and sighed; he should've seen through Kurt's elaborate ruse at dinner. What was he going to tell the other Glee kids now?

Kurt's eyes, haunted, stared into the mirror. It was official. He was rotting, from the inside out.
An hour later, after finishing up some stray pieces of homework, Kurt sat cross legged on his bed, music box open in front of him. A ballerina dressed in pink turned pirouettes to the soft tinkling of music, but each note was like another piece of shattered glass falling to the floor before him. He glared viciously at the figurine, wanting to break it but unable to. It was his mother's…it was one of the last reminders he had of her. He could remember twirling in circles as a toddler attempting to copy the pretty dancer's movements, a pink sweatband pushing his bangs back and a miniature leotard on his body (he had to beg for that one for weeks). He could still see his mother laughing and twirling with him, alive, healthy and carefree.
With a growl of anger, he threw one of his throw pillows as hard as he could the wall, getting angrier even as it made the slightest of thumps. "Fuck…" he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror of his vanity. "Fucking fat freak…fucking ugly…" he mumbled glaring at himself. "No wonder no one loves you…why would anyone want someone as disgusting as you?"

"Kurt, you okay in there?" Finn yelled through the wall, having heard the thumps coming from their shared wall.

"Fine, just blowing off some steam," Kurt called back, trying not to let his voice waver.

Ripping his eyes away from his reflection, he carefully pried the velvet backing of the music box away from the wood. Behind it hid a collection of blades of all different sizes; some had been pried from his razor, others nicked from his father's shop. He searched through them, inspecting each one carefully before settling on a sharper blade, one that was larger and would do more damage than most of the others.

"Finally," he whispered, tugging shakily at his sleeve till it was wrinkled around his elbow and laying the blade amongst the small, straight edged scars and scabs that patterned his inner forearm.

The next day

Mercedes slid next to Kurt at the lunch table. "Hey, cutie, what's up?"

Kurt looked at her, then looked back down at the table. "Not much."

Mercedes pushed a cookie towards him. "I got you a cookie. Chocolate-chip, your fav!"

Kurt smiled weakly and took the cookie. "Thanks, Mercy."

Tina pulled up a chair. "Hey, Kurt. Hey, Mercedes."

"Heyyy, Tee," Mercedes said cheerfully. Kurt picked at his cuticles.

"Kurt, I got you a bag of chips. Don't worry; they're low-fat," Tina said, handing Kurt the bag.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the bag grudgingly.

"Kurt!" Rachel's shrill voice sounded from across the room. Kurt groaned. "So you're feeling better? Great! Because we really need to work on our duet for Sectionals," Rachel said in a rush. "Oh, I got you this," she said, throwing an apple at Kurt.

"Oh…kay…" Kurt said, confused. Why are they all giving me food?

Artie rolled up to the table. "Hey, ladies," he said, using his smooth-boy voice. "And Kurt," he said, blushing at the fact that he'd just called Kurt a lady. "Hey, Kurt, my mom made brownies last night. I wrapped up a couple for you," he said, giving Kurt the specially wrapped package.

"Why the FUCK are you guys all giving me FOOD?" Kurt blurted out angrily. Tina, Mercedes, Rachel, and Artie's jaws dropped; Kurt hardly ever swore. Kurt, ignoring their stung expressions, huffed and stormed out of the cafeteria. Mercedes nudged Artie, encouraging him to follow Kurt. Artie rolled his eyes, and started after Kurt.

"Kurt, wait up!" he called.

"Leave me ALONE!" Kurt yelled. He angrily pushed the door to the bathroom open and went on inside. Artie sighed and waited a moment before going in himself. There was no immediate sign of Kurt, but it only took Artie one quick glance under the doors to the stalls that Kurt was in there. He hung back, not wanting to give himself away.

Then he heard it.

The sounds of Kurt's gagging, then vomit hitting the toilet, filled the bathroom. Artie sucked in a breath; they had been right. He quickly backed out of the bathroom, struck with fear, before Kurt could exit the stall and find him. He raced back to the table as fast as his arms could take him.

"What happened?" Tina asked, seeing the fear etched across Artie's face.

"Kurt…he was in the bathroom…I heard him gagging…puking…" Artie managed to get out between gasping breaths.

Mercedes' eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe that Kurt would do this," she said softly.

"What could've possessed Kurt to want to throw up?" Artie wondered aloud.

"Maybe it's the stress of the competition," Rachel suggested.

"I think it's a more personal reason," Artie said. "No offense, Rach."

"We need to stop this," Mercedes said. "We need to stage an intervention".

Tina, Mercedes, and Rachel all turned to look at Artie.

"Oh, no," Artie said. "Not me."

"You volunteered to yesterday," Tina said. "What makes today any different?"

"Because today," Artie said slowly, "I actually heard him throw up."

"We need an expert," Mercedes said. She waved Quinn over.

"Is Kurt okay?" Quinn asked, seeing the looks on their faces.

"Artie heard him puking in the bathroom again," Rachel said.

"Quinn, you know about eating disorders," Mercedes said in a hushed voice. "Is Kurt bulimic?"

Quinn sat down. "He's been moody, right?"

"Yeah," Artie said. "He swore at us, and he never swears."

"And he's been caught throwing up on more than one occasion, right?"

"Yes," Tina said. "And always after a meal."

"Then yes," Quinn said. "He's most likely bulimic."

Mercedes hung her head, crying softly. "I just don't see why," she whispered.

"Well," said Quinn. "He's probably depressed over something. Bulimia usually happens to girls who think they're too fat, even though they're usually not, but can happen when someone's severely depressed."

"It's like someone cutting," Rachel nodded.

"Speaking of cutting," Tina spoke up. "Have you noticed how Kurt wears those armwarmer things, and he always wears long sleeved-shirts, even in the summer?"

They nodded. "You don't…" Rachel started.

"Mm-mm," Mercedes said, shaking her head. "Kurt may be…throwing up…but he's definitely NOT cutting. I'm sure of it. That's just his fashion. Besides, he's always cold."

"Anyway," Quinn said. "I'd love to stay and chat about disorders associated with depression, but I have a life." She got up to leave. "But I hope Kurt's going to be okay," she added before joining the other Cheerios at their table.

"I wonder what Kurt could be depressed about," Tina mused.

"Well, we're going to find out," Rachel declared.

"No offense, Rachel, but since when have you cared about Kurt?" Mercedes asked.

"Mercedes, we all know that Kurt's the best singer in Glee, after me, of course," Rachel said briskly. "And if Kurt is depressed, he's not going to want to compete with me for a solo. And I like that little diva competition that he and I have always had."

Artie took that as Rachel's own way of saying she cared about Kurt. He sighed and looked towards the hallway where Kurt had disappeared not that long ago.

"You okay, Artie?" Tina asked, squeezing Artie's shoulder.

"Kurt's my best friend," he said quietly. "We don't keep things from each other."

Tina gave Artie a quick hug. "We're gonna fix this, Artie."

"That's right," Rachel said. "And we're gonna start tonight."

Finn walked up to the table. "You guys got a minute?"

Artie looked at the clock. "Lunch ends in five; we've got time."

Finn took a breath. "I don't know how to tell you guys this."

"You're not gay, are you?" Rachel asked. "Because if you are, I don't want to hear it."

"No, I'm not gay," Finn said, shaking his head like there was a fly buzzing around it. "So last night my Mom goes all-out with dinner, right? Like, she makes Kurt's favorite meal and everything. And I serve everyone; I make sure he gets loads of food."

Mercedes groaned. "Finn…"

"And he's like, cutting his food into tiny piece and pushing it around, thinking I'm not noticing. Which I wasn't, at first."

"There's a shocker," Tina muttered.

"But then I glared at him and he started eating," Finn continued. "And he ate the whole thing in like five minutes."

"That's good," Rachel said.

"Yeah. That's what I thought, too. But then he ran upstairs. I followed him, hid in the hall closet next to the bathroom. And I heard him puking."

"Oh, no," Mercedes moaned.

"Oh, yes," Finn said, nodding to reiterate his point. "That's not all I heard, either."

"What else happened?" Artie dared to ask.

"I heard him yelling and throwing things," Finn said. "Said he was blowing off steam."

"Did you try to talk to him about it?" Tina asked.

"No," Finn said.

"…you're an idiot," Rachel muttered. "He's your stepbrother. You should be there for him, Finn."

Finn shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"Thanks, Finn," Artie said. "I'll talk to Kurt about this tonight."

That night

Artie took a deep breath and picked up his phone. He wasn't ready to have this conversation face-to-face; he'd text Kurt casually, play it cool.

Artie: Hey

A minute later, he got his reply. At least Kurt was willing to answer him.

Kurt: Hi

Artie: What up, homie?

Kurt: I told u not to call me homie ever again. LOL.

Artie smiled. At least he was able to get an "LOL" out of Kurt. That was a start.

Artie: Sorry! So what's up, anyway?

Kurt: Listening to Barbra. U?

Artie swallowed. He knew he had to do this. Now.

Artie: Thinking bout u.

Kurt: ? y ?

Artie took a deep breath. His fingers fumbled on the familiar keys.

Artie: U know y, Kurt.

Kurt: O. Lunch.

Artie: Where'd u go after u pulled a Rachel and stormed off?

Kurt: LOL. I went 2 the library. Y?

Artie: Just wondering. Mercy was worried bout you.

Kurt: Mercy worries 2 much. So do u, and every1 else in Glee.

Artie: We just care about u, Kurt.

Kurt: I'm calling u.

Artie's phone bleated Kurt's special ringtone: Don't Cry For Me, Argentina. Kurt had programmed it one day when Artie wasn't looking, and Artie never bothered to change it back. He thought it suited Kurt, anyway.

He flipped his phone open. "Hey."

"Hey," Kurt said.

A pause.

"What'd you want to call me about?" Artie asked carefully.

"Nothing," Kurt said. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh. Okay," Artie said. That's a bit odd, even for Kurt.

"Do you mind staying on with me until I fall asleep?" Kurt asked.

"Sure," Artie said. "I don't mind at all." Where was this coming from?

They talked about a variety of things: music, Glee, random memories that popped up in their minds. Occasionally, they'd break out into song. It was around one in the morning that Artie finally heard Kurt's deep, even breathing on the other end, and knew he was asleep. He clicked off the phone, hand cramping from having kept in the same position for so long. He put the phone on his bedside table, rolled over, and sunk into a deep sleep.

That night, he dreamt of Kurt. Actually, he dreamed of kissing Kurt passionately. He woke up with a start, his underwear wet. "Shit," he said under his breath. What was THAT all about?

The next day

Kurt strutted into the choir room, as if nothing had happened the previous day.

"Nice to see you back, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said. "Are you feeling better?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I am, thanks," Kurt said distractedly. He took his familiar position, seated between Mercedes and Quinn. Mercedes took his hand. "How are you doing, boo?" she asked gently. Kurt patted her hand.

"I'm fine, Mercy. No need to worry about me." Mercedes threw him a Look. "Really, Mercedes. I'm fine. Just had a little freak-out yesterday. I'm stressed, is all."

Mercedes rolled her eyes a bit, not buying it. "If you say so," she sighed.

"Does anyone want to share something they've been working on?" Mr. Schue asked. "I think we'll just have a casual day today."

Kurt stood up. "I have something I've been working on," he said.

Mr. Schue gestured towards the front of the room. "The floor is yours."

Kurt reached into his bag, digging out his sheet music. He handed it to Brad, their pianist, and took his place, center-stage. He took a breath, and began to sing.

Mama, who bore me

Mama, who gave me

No way to handle things

Who made me so sad

Rachel smiled. She loved Spring Awakening. She'd been told she looked just like the girl who'd played the original Wendla on Broadway, Lea Michele. It was one of her (many) dream roles, actually. She nodded, encouraging Kurt.

Mama, the weeping

Mama, the angels

No sleep in Heaven

Or Bethlehem

Mercedes and Tina exchanged a glance. They knew Kurt wasn't religious; why was he singing a song with religious undertones? Tina shrugged, and turned her attention back on Kurt. Mercedes looked at her hands. She didn't know what to think.

Some pray that one day

Christ will come a-callin'

They light a candle

And hope that it glows

Quinn nodded approvingly. She was proud that Kurt had decided to get over his anti-religion thoughts, even if it was only just a song. Puck raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure where Kurt was going with this one, but he had a feeling it was important.

And some just lie there, crying

For Him to come and to find them

But when He comes

They don't know how to go

Kurt was visibly shaking. Rachel noticed his eyes darting back and forth. A bead of sweat was forming on his forehead. She furrowed her brow. Kurt never got nervous while performing…so what could be going on? Kurt pushed on.

Mama, who bore me

Mama, who gave me

No way to handle things

Who made me so bad

Santana and Brittany hooked pinkies, enjoying the sound of Kurt's voice. Artie frowned; he knew Kurt didn't look good. There was something significant about this day, he couldn't help but to think. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.

Mama, the weeping

Mama, the angels

No sleep in Heaven…

Kurt wavered once, then collapsed to the floor. Rachel screamed. Everything went black for Kurt. The last thing he remembered before succumbing to the darkness was Mr. Schue's concerned face peering down at him.

Kurt woke up some time later in the nurse's office. He tried to sit up, but fell back down, feeling weaker than ever. How'd I end up here? Kurt thought. He remembered something…singing in the choir room…someone screaming…everything going fuzzy and black…

He looked to his left. "Kurt, thank God," someone said. Kurt shook his head, sure he wasn't seeing clearly.

"Rachel? What are you doing here?" he asked, confused and disoriented.

"Kurt…you passed out during Glee…" she said slowly.

"Yes, I remember that, but why are you here?" Kurt asked, shaking his head to try and stop the buzzing feeling he was now experiencing.

"Taking care of you," she said simply.

"But why you?" Kurt said rudely.

"Ouch," Rachel said, stung.

"Ah, sorry, Rachel. I just thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you," Rachel admitted. "I just pretend to because I hate that you're so talented and constantly try to 'steal' my spotlight. I really do care about you, Kurt."

"Funny way you have of showing it," Kurt said, getting aggravated. "Why couldn't Mercedes or Artie have come to 'take care of me'?"

"They got a little freaked out. I mean, you just collapsed right before the end of your song, Kurt. Can you blame them?"

"I suppose not," Kurt admitted. He tried to sit up again, feeling a bit stronger now.

"Are you going to be okay?" Rachel asked from her heart.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "I just got really dizzy all of a sudden. I must be coming down with the flu or something. I'm sure it's nothing."

Rachel looked at him curiously. "Are…are you sure it's a flu, Kurt?"

"Yes," Kurt said with finality. "Just a virus. I should be better in a few days."

"Well, rest up," Rachel said. "I'd hate to see you get really sick. We can't win Sectionals without you."

"Yes, you can," Kurt said, gathering up his things.

"No, we really can't," Rachel said.

"You mean that?" Kurt said, not looking at Rachel, but instead, finding interest in something inside his bag.

Rachel put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Yes," she said.

"Thanks, I suppose," Kurt said. "You can go now," he dismissed her.

Rachel kissed him on the forehead. "Feel better," she said, leaving him to be checked over by the nurse. She ran back to the choir room, where the rest of the group was waiting for news, huddled in their little individual pairings for comfort.

"Is Kurt okay?" Mr. Schue asked Rachel.

"He's awake," she said. "He claims he's getting the flu or something."

"The flu?" Tina asked.

"Yeah," Rachel said. "He insisted he'd be okay."

"Bullshit," Puck said. "Kurt doesn't have no flu."

"I thought we were staging an intervention," Santana said, looking at Artie.

"Yeah," Finn said, looking at Artie. "You were so insistent on talking to him."

"I talked to him," Artie said. "Just…not about this."

Mercedes sighed. "Artie…"

"I know, I know," he said. "But the time wasn't right. I mean, things just got really…weird when I was talking on the phone with him last night."
"What do you mean, weird?" Mike asked.

"Did you have phone sex?" Brittany asked innocently. They all glared at her.

"He said he just wanted to hear my voice, and then asked if I'd stay on the line with him until he fell asleep," Artie said quietly.

"Damn," Finn said under his breath. "Why didn't he just come talk to me?"

"He doesn't trust you," Artie whispered.

"…what?" Finn asked incredulously. "We're, like, stepbrothers!"

Artie swallowed. "He still hasn't gotten over the not-standing-up-for-him-against-Karofksy debacle," Artie said.

"Oh," Finn said, sitting back. "I'm such an idiot! God!" He kicked the chair next to him.

"Calm down, Finn," Mr. Schue stepped in. "This is nobody's fault. Now, we're just all going to keep a close eye on Kurt. Anything happens, you come tell me. Got it?"

They all nodded.

"Come on. Why don't you all go home? We've all had a big scare."

They all filed out, except for Rachel, Artie, Tina, and Mercedes.

"I just can't put my finger on it," Artie said. "But today has some sort of significance behind it. If only I could remember what it was."

"April 30th?" Tina asked.

"Yeah," Artie said. "Something happened today, years ago…I just can't remember what it is."

"I'll bet my entire Barbra Streisand collection that it has something to do with Kurt," Rachel said. "Artie, I'm making it your mission to find out what."

Mercedes nodded. "If he'll tell anyone, it's going to be you, Artie."

"You're his best friend, too, Mercedes," Artie pointed out.

"He's known you longer," she said, shrugging. The girls clapped Artie on the back for luck, leaving him behind in the choir room.

Artie sighed. "Don't worry, Kurt," he said to himself. "Artie's coming to the rescue."

That night

Artie settled himself on his bed, staring at the clock. In two more minutes, he'd text Kurt. He had no idea how to pull a confession out of him, let alone figure out what made that day so darn significant. Was it the day Kurt first came out? He asked himself. His phone vibrated at that moment, interrupting his thoughts. He reached for it, flipping it open.

Kurt: Hiya

Artie: Hello, yourself

Kurt: Some day, huh?

Artie: Yeah, some day.

Kurt: Sorry 4 freaking u out.

Artie: It's k. Just as long as ur okay.

Kurt: Feeling much better. Ate some broth.

Artie stared at the screen. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Kurt really was coming down with some sort of virus.

Artie: So ur stomach's okay?

Kurt: No, puked up the broth.

Artie froze. Maybe they were right, after all. Maybe Kurt was bulimic.

Artie: Poor baby

Kurt: I'm calling u

Artie waited for a moment; right on cue, his phone rang.

"Hi, Kurt," he said, smiling.

All he heard was the sound of crying.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" he asked gently. More crying, sobbing.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Artie gripped the phone, panicking slightly. He'd only heard Kurt cry like this once, and it was years ago.

"It's today," Kurt said between sobs. "It's today."

"What's today? Kurt, please tell me!" Artie said, feeling his pulse race.

"My mother died eight years ago today," Kurt gasped out through his body-racking sobs.

Artie knew today had some significance behind it! "Oh, Kurt," he whispered. He waited for Kurt's sobs to calm down before speaking again. He didn't have to wait; Kurt spoke first.

"Are…are you still there, Artie?" he sniffled.

"I'm still here," Artie said softly. His heart went out the fragile boy he'd always known. Their parents had been friends since before the boys were born, so the boys had been friends forever. Artie wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold Kurt in his arms and comfort him. "I'll stay on as long as you need me to," he said.

Kurt sniffled again. "Thanks," he said.

"I really liked that song you sang today in Glee," Artie said. "It was really nice."

"Thanks," Kurt said again. "That's why I sang it, you know. Because I miss my mom."

"I understand that now," Artie said. "Why didn't you tell us that, though?"

"I didn't want their sympathy," Kurt said bluntly.

"Oh," Artie said in a small voice. "Why didn't you at least tell me?"

"I just did," Kurt reminded him.

"Oh. Right. Is that song from a musical or something?"

"Yep," Kurt said. "From Spring Awakening."

"I've never heard of that one," Artie said. "Why don't you tell me about it?" He figured that would distract Kurt for a good half-hour as the Broadway-obsessed boy divulged into the show's plot, analyzed its characters and songs, and discussed the themes of the show.

Artie was right; Kurt ended up rambling on about Spring Awakening for a good forty-five minutes. Artie lay back against his pillows, listening to his best friend's unique, beautiful voice in his ear, intimate.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Artie heard a voice call from the other line.

"Who was that?" Artie asked.

"Finn," Kurt said.

"Oh, tell him I said hi." Artie heard Kurt cover the mouthpiece and yell something. Artie could imagine Kurt sitting in his Moroccan-inspired bedroom, cozied up with some cashmere blankets.

"He says hi," Kurt relayed.

"What's it like living with Finn, anyway?"

"It's weird. If you think he's Neanderthal-like at school, he's even worse at home. And his room! God, I thought his closet exploded in there the other day."

Artie laughed. "So I take it it's interesting, then?"

"Yeah," Kurt said quietly. "I kind of wish he were a girl, though."

"Why, so you could give him a makeover?"

Kurt laughed. It sounded like music to Artie's ears. "Yes," he said, giggling.

There was a comfortable pause between the two friends.

"Artie?"

"Yes?" Artie asked, cautiously.

"Thanks for being such a good friend."

Artie smiled. "You're welcome, Kurt."

"Stay with me til I fall asleep?"

"Of course," Artie said.

Next day

The boys were in the locker room, getting changed for gym class. Kurt wasn't fond of gym class; it was just an excuse for the Neanderthal boys to be louder and more obnoxious than they usually were. Besides, you got sweaty during gym class, and Kurt hated getting all sweaty and gross. He didn't dare to use the locker room showers, but he also hated to go without at least freshening up a little. He pulled his clothes out of his locker, feeling a new wave of dizziness pass over him. He shook it off, and started tugging his shirt off. He had just gotten it over his head when he slumped to the floor, causing a soft thump in the process.

Mike heard Kurt hit the ground, and ran around the lockers to check it out.

"Kurt? Hey, are you okay?" He asked, seeing Kurt with his head in his hands.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Just a little dizzy."

Mike looked at him curiously. "Dizzy?"

Kurt whimpered, hiding his face so Mike couldn't see the pain he wore.

"You sure you don't want me to get someone?" Mike asked concernedly.

"No, I'll be fine," Kurt said quickly, trying to stand up, wavering as he did so.

Mike was finally able to get a good look at Kurt's shirtless form. He sucked in a breath. "Kurt, you really don't look good," he said, shocked at how many of Kurt's ribs he could count clearly.

Kurt quickly put his gym shirt on. "I feel fine," he said.

"Kurt, you may feel fine, but you don't look it," Mike said, still in awe at how skinny Kurt had become in these last few months.

"I'm JUST FINE, OKAY?" Kurt yelled, stomping off to the doors leading to the gym.

Mike leaned against the lockers. He knew that Kurt had been puking, and he knew that he had always been obsessed with vanity.

But just how obsessed with vanity was he?

Next Day

"How many ribs could you see?" Artie shivered.

"Most of 'em," Mike said. "It was…it was kinda scary."

"Oh, Lord," Tina groaned.

"Kurt's gotten way too thin. We have to do something about this," Rachel stated.

"He won't listen to anyone!" Finn exclaimed.

"Anyone but Artie," Puck said quietly.

Artie shivered again. "Guys, I can't do this. I can't pretend like nothing's wrong when I know that something is very, very wrong."

"You gotta," Finn said. "Or I'll tell Mom and Burt."

"No, no," Artie said hastily. "I'll…I'll talk to him."

Kurt strutted into the room, feigning happiness. "Kurt, can I talk to you? In the hallway?" Artie asked cautiously.

"Um, yeah, sure," Kurt said, looking at him strangely. He followed Artie out into the empty hallway.

"Kurt…I don't know how to say this."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Say what?"

"I really care about you. You know that, right? Like, I really care about you."

"I really care about you, too," Kurt said, not sure where this was going.

"And I like you. A lot. You're like a brother to me."

"Artie, cut to the chase. I know you're stalling."

Artie sighed and twiddled his thumbs. "How much d'you weigh, Kurt?"

"What kind of question is that?" Kurt asked hotly. "That's none of your business!"

"Kurt, you've gotten way, way thin. And, truth be told, we're all worried. Really, really worried. Mike…Mike could count your ribs yesterday. And you keep passing out, and you keep not eating. And…Kurt, I heard you throwing up. At lunch. The other day. In the bathroom."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "How do you even know that it was me that you heard?"

"I…I followed you in there," Artie admitted guiltily.

"I can't believe you!" Kurt shrieked angrily. "You betrayed me, Artie!"

"Kurt, no, Mercedes made me do it, trust me, I didn't want to…"

"You still went, anyway! I'm fine, I'm healthy, and I feel good!" He strode away, leaving Artie alone. Artie sighed and rolled back into the choir room. They looked at him expectantly.

"No good," Artie mumbled. "He got mad."

Mr. Schue shook his head. "Artie, you should really let an adult handle this one."

"You haven't done much," Puck grumbled. "What kind of teacher are you?"

"That's enough, Puck," Mr. Schue glared at him.

What kind of friend am I? Artie asked himself.

Night

"Hello, Artie. Kurt's not here right now," Carole said as she answered the door.

"I, um, I came to talk to you and Burt, actually," Artie said.

"Oh. Well, come on in, then," Carole said, holding open the door for Artie to get in. "Burt, honey, Artie's here. He wants to talk to us about something."

Burt came in from the living room. "What is it?"

"It's about Kurt," Artie whispered.

Burt's face turned white. "In the living room," he said quickly.

Artie wheeled himself into the room. Carole and Burt sat on the couch, taking each other's hands. "What is it, Artie? What's wrong with Kurt?"

Artie trembled. "I think he's bulimic."

Anne gasped. "Artie, are you sure?" Burt asked him.

"Y-yes," Artie stuttered. "He's been throwing up…after meals…real skinny…can count his ribs…really hostile and angry all the time…passed out…passed out in school the other day…"

Carole began to cry. "His spine felt so bony the other day…I didn't think…"

Burt stood up. "Thanks for telling us about this, son."

The front door opened. Kurt walked in. "Dad, I'm home," he called out.

"Kurt, please come here," Burt called back to him. Kurt shrugged and walked into the living room.

"Damnit," he swore upon seeing Artie sitting there with his parents. "You told, didn't you?" He swooped down upon Artie. "You told them!"

"I'm so sorry," Artie whispered. "I had to."

"I hate you!" Kurt yelled. He turned to his parents. "Whatever he told you, it isn't true!"

"Kurt," Burt said warningly.

"It's not!" Kurt's eyes welled up with tears.

"Kurt," Carole said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not bulimic…I'm not…I'm not…" Kurt began to sob.

Carole pulled him in to a hug. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I can't help it, I'm just so depressed…"

Carole rubbed his back. "Why didn't you tell us, son?" Burt asked him.

"I couldn't, I couldn't," Kurt murmured. "I couldn't tell anyone."

Artie backed away slowly. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"I am, too," Kurt whispered back. "I love you, Artie."

Artie stared at him. "What did you say?"

Kurt pulled away from Carole. "I love you, Artie."

Artie shook his head. "Kurt, what…?"

"I love you," Kurt fell to his knees. "I love you and you don't love me back!"

Artie rolled up to him. "I love you, too," he said softly. "And I'm going to help you get better."

"You love me?" Kurt looked up, blinking between his tears.

"Yes," Artie said. "I was too scared to tell you."

Kurt sniffled. "And you're going to help me get better?"

"Yes," Artie said. "I promise."

Kurt took his hand. "Thank you." He turned to his parents. "I…if you want to send me to a doctor…I'll…I'll let you," he said grudgingly. "If Artie can be with me."

"I'll always be with you," Artie whispered.

And so he kissed him..