AN: Dedicated to Grave Bells.

College-era ages. blah blah blah

It was going to get him.

Baljeet was absolutely sure that whoever, or whatever was behind him was going to get him. He wouldn't have a chance to make it up the stairs to his apartment, he wouldn't have time to call his parents, not even send a quick text to his friends.

Even with those thoughts, it didn't stop the now-college student from taking the stairs two at a time- the elevator was too risky. It could easily be stopped or jammed or the security system hacked, anything!

He was really starting to regret his insistence on a fourth floor apartment, for not only the view, but the excersize that came with going up and down the stairwells. Baljeet could feel his palms starting to sweat as he gripped tighter to the keys in his pocket.

'Almost there, you are almost there...' he repeated over and over in his head.

A creak from the stairwell below him made Baljeet start running, letting go of the keys in his pocket and using the railing for leverage to propel himself up the stairs faster. He was only on the second floor, and combined with the fact he'd ran the whole way from the bus stop to the complex, things were not looking so great for him. He was running out of breath, but at least- for a moment- the creaking had stopped.

Thinking it was safe to lean his head on his arm, Baljeet instantly felt a hard yank on his side bag, and a voice was in his ear.

"You think you can run from me?"

Baljeet's head shot up, and he took the stairs even faster this time, and with the sudden kick of adrenaline it made things only slightly easier. He was ready to ditch his bag-it was only weighing him down- and even use the teeny bit of self defense he'd learned to help...worst case scenario, that is. Because after last time...

The Indian froze on the stairwell, completely disregarding everything that was going on. Last time. Just like last time. He'd tried to run, but he could only get so far. He'd tried to fight, but he couldn't hold a finger to the man's strength. He'd tried to say no, but his mouth was covered by a hand and then-

"C'mon. I know you can't say no."

Baljeet felt himself dry-heave as the person was suddenly right behind him, breathing in his ear, thick hands on his hips. He yelped, shoving himself backwards for all of three seconds before continuing up the stairs, fingering the keys on his pockets. Feeling for the one with the rubber cover, so he could unlock his door as quick as possible and lock it behind him and call the police. But that was if he actually made it up this last flight of stairs. He was out of breath from running, hyperventilating from the anxiety, and he could feel his muscles starting to ache.

At this point Baljeet could feel tears in his eyes, and he was speaking aloud to himself, hands shaking as he gripped the key in one hand, and the doorknob in the other.

"Unlock, please hurry, gears inside, please turn, please door, come on door..." he mumbled to himself.

But no matter which way he turned it, it wouldn't budge, the key wasn't moving the lock, the handle wasn't turning; NOTHING was working! Baljeet tried turning it again, and noticed he somehow grabbed the wrong key, wasting precious seconds. He could hear heavy footsteps behind him, but he couldn't turn around, he couldn't face that. Not again.

The footsteps got closer and closer, and Baljeet's arms fell to his sides. He slammed his eyes shut and let his keys fall to the ground. This was it. He was done for. He would have to go through that damn process all over again, trying to not re-live the moment every second they pressed for more information. Height. Weight. Eye color. Skin tone. Clothing description. Any significant features.

Baljeet shook as the footsteps stopped, and right behind him. He could feel that awful breath on his neck, he didn't want to smell it, to feel it, not again, NOT again! But the hands were on his hips again, pulling him backwards and-

Just like that, he was pulled forward into something warm and soft. There was a hand on his back, and another brushing past his knees. Something was being said, what was it? And why were his feet off the ground?

Baljeet opened his eyes as he gripped to the fabric of whatever had him.

Buford.

Of course Buford had him.

Baljeet took a few deep breaths before he could focus on what his former bully was saying.

"It's okay 'Jeet, I got you. Nothin's there, you're okay."

And just like that Baljeet was sobbing. Gripping to Buford's shirt as he set them down on their bed, burying his face in his neck. Buford's arms immediately re-wrapped themselves around his boyfriend, starting up a rubbing motion with one, while sliding off his shoes with the other.

"It was happening again. And-and I almost did not make it inside, I felt...all of it, and...and..." Baljeet stuttered as he tried to form a sentence, he really did. But he couldn't ignore the person waiting outside their door. Waiting for him to come back outside, so they could pull him into some dark corner somewhere-

"No. No, nothin's there. Just me n'you. I was right there. I Promise." Buford cupped Baljeet's face between his hands, kissing his forehead. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, then immediately pulled him back into his chest.

Buford started rocking back and forth to calm Baljeet and for the most part it seemed to work. His sniffles were softening, and now it was just small hiccups. But it didn't change the fact that some...asshole had the nerve to terrorize his boyfriend, and put him in a state of panic! Buford decided right then he wouldn't go anywhere without him. He'd reschedule his work around Baljeet's classes, and he'd be damned if Baljeet was ever taking the bus again. Insistence or not. Whatever it took to help him.

"Buford."

Baljeet pushed himself back from Buford's chest and reached up to wind his arms around his neck. He was still close to crying, but this position, being in Buford's arms, being with Buford made everything better. Almost like it never happened. And that small fact alone made him smile.

Which in turn, worried Buford, cause why the hell would he be smiling when he was so upset? Buford pulled Baljeet even closer, so their chests and noses were touching. He swore to himself he would do anything in his power to make Baljeet happy again. To make him unafraid to be in a room without him. Unafraid of going to sleep, and having it happen again in his dreams. Buford would create new dreams, full of better memories for Baljeet. Hell, he'd even watch Space Adventures a thousand times if it meant making him happy.

Neither of them said a word for some time, but the silence wasn't a bother. It was fine how it was, with Baljeet swaying with Buford and just looking at each other. No words, no touches, no kisses. Just this, and Baljeet felt a bit more alive. A bit more like everything would be okay.

"When I am with you," he finally spoke. "It goes away. I do not panic, there are no flashbacks. When I am with you...it is like everything will be okay."

Buford then understood the smile. He couldn't erase what happened, but he could make it better. And if all they needed was each other, then they would do it. They would get through it. Baljeet seemed to read his mind as he pulled their lips together.

And that was all he needed.