"Here's your non-fat white chocolate mocha," Blaine announced, setting Kurt's coffee down on the table in front of him. "Even though you're model-skinny already and could use a little fat in your system every now and then. It's healthy, you know."

"I had butter on my dinner roll last night," Kurt offered. "That takes me to my weekly limit."

His smile was bright and warm, and it made Blaine smile to see it – but there was still something… distant, or off, or… missing, in Kurt's sharp blue eyes.

They'd agreed to meet for coffee, and Blaine had been relieved just to be able to spend time with Kurt at all. He knew there was a lot that Kurt wasn't telling him about what he'd been through the night of the robbery – and that was okay. Blaine remembered what it felt like – being beaten, and threatened, and really, genuinely certain beyond all doubt that your very life was in the hands of someone malicious and scary and violent, and you were going to die before it was over – and he also remembered how hard it'd been to relate to his friends, after.

He remembered laughing and smiling with his fellow Dalton students in the weeks following the attack. It hadn't taken long before he made friends, became popular, and was the center of attention in every crowded room – but the only thought in his mind, the entire time, was the absolute certainty that he had nothing whatsoever in common with these people. Their biggest fears were tests they weren't prepared for, being grounded for coming in past curfew – not whether or not they'd make it to their destination alive, when they headed home for the night.

Thing is… I do get it. I know what he's going through, and… if he'd just talk to me, maybe I could help, but…

But it has to be his choice. I hated it when my friends tried to get me to open up and talk to them about it. They wanted to help, but all they did was remind me of how little they understood what I was going through – how much I'd changed – how much I'd lost.

The more I push Kurt, the more he's going to pull away from me.

I remember that, too.

"So wanna go shop a little?" Blaine suggested when their coffees were about half gone. "I don't have a lot of extra spending money, but there's this scarf I saw in the window at Express…"

"Sure," Kurt agreed, standing and taking his tray toward the place where it was to be returned.

Blaine eyed the muffin Kurt had bought only when Blaine had begged him to get something, so that he wouldn't have to feel like a pig eating the giant cookie he'd ordered all by himself – the muffin that had about a bite and a half picked out of it when Kurt tossed it into the garbage.

That was another thing he remembered – the fear and confusion and irrational self-loathing that made you just feel sick to your stomach all the time, with no desire to eat at all, and a questionable ability to keep anything you did eat down. He'd spent the month following the attack in an agonizing cycle of trying to eat to appease his parents and then throwing it up, then trying to avoid eating for as long as possible in order to prevent it from happening again, until he was so hungry that he had to try… and of course, threw it up again. His parents had been on the verge of sending him to a counselor for an eating disorder.

So, it was another thing he'd learned that he hoped could help – distraction could ease the constant, sick fluttering in Kurt's stomach, could maybe help give him a little bit of peace, just for a little while.

So Blaine rambled on about all the boys Kurt knew from Dalton, telling every funny story he could remember from the past few weeks, relieved when Kurt would smile, and taking a deep sense of satisfaction and triumph from every rare, quiet laugh he managed to draw from Kurt's lips. A pang of regret went through Blaine, as he was reminded in a sort of bittersweet way of a time not so very long ago when he wouldn't have had to try so hard, because Kurt would have been hanging on his every word.

Blaine wasn't blind, and he considered himself to be reasonably perceptive; he'd known long before Kurt told him that Kurt had feelings for him. He just hadn't been sure how he felt, at the time, and didn't want to wreck their friendship if it all fell apart in the end.

He supposed it was only fair, then, that Kurt was now the one leaving him hanging, Blaine's feelings just out there between them in the open, making him vulnerable and uncertain while he waited for Kurt to simply acknowledge them in some way – not that he expected that to happen anytime soon. After all, Kurt had a lot more troubling, serious matters on his mind these days. Still, Blaine wished that Kurt would give him some indication of whether or not he still had feelings for Blaine at all, or if Blaine had simply waited too long.

Blaine tried to suppress his anxious impatience, reminding himself that his confession of feelings for Kurt was probably simply too much to process at the moment, given what Kurt was already dealing with – and that was more than fair. He simply had no choice but to wait, and just be the best friend that he could be to Kurt in the meantime – and at the moment, that meant jokes and compliments and a constant, steady stream of every possible distraction he could think of to keep Kurt from dwelling on the dark, troubled thoughts that every now and then would shutter his eyes, would make Blaine feel that Kurt had drifted away to some dark, private place where Blaine was not allowed.

"That's hilarious." Kurt smiled, but he looked tired, and Blaine began to think it might be time to take him home. "So, where did Wes finally find the gavel?"

"He didn't find it so much as it just… showed up," Blaine explained. "On his desk in the middle of chem class, wrapped up in a bright red…"

Blaine never got to finish his story, or even his sentence – because in the next instant, another shopper bumped into Kurt's shoulder. The bigger guy wasn't watching where he was going, and didn't stop, and hit Kurt with enough force to knock him back a step or two, stumbling. It was rude, and inconsiderate, and Blaine glared at the guy's back, lips parted to protest.

But before he could speak, movement caught Blaine's attention out of the corner of his eye… and Blaine's angry words died in his throat.

Kurt had gone pale and was visibly trembling, his eyes wide and panicked as he backed up out of the walkway until his back was pressed against the wall. His arms wrapped around his middle, one shaky hand rising to his throat as he drew in shallow, rapid breaths, staring up at Blaine, but not seeming to really see him.

"Kurt?" Blaine hurried to his side, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm, but Kurt flinched away from the contact, and Blaine withdrew his hands swiftly, holding them up in front of him. "Kurt, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I c-can't…" Kurt gasped out, eyes tightly closed, clutching at his throat, "… I can't breathe… I can't…"

Blaine's heart sank, and he closed his eyes, pushing back his own memories and trying to focus instead on what Kurt was experiencing now. He lowered his voice, maneuvering his body so as to place himself between Kurt and the multitude of shoppers passing by them, some of whom were slowing down or even stopping to gawk at them.

"Kurt," he said softly, "Kurt, you can breathe, okay? You… I think you're having a panic attack, but… you're all right. You're not hurt, and you can breathe, or you couldn't tell me that you can't breathe, okay? You're all right. Look at me, Kurt, okay? Look at me…"

Finally, Kurt opened his eyes and obeyed, focusing his gaze on Blaine's face, and Blaine felt a rush of relief that he was at least getting through to him a little.

"That's it. Good, Kurt. Now, I want you to focus on your breathing for a minute, okay? Just… try to breathe with me, okay? When I do. Can you do that for me?"

Kurt nodded hurriedly, abruptly reaching out to grasp Blaine's hand and pulling him in closer. Encouraged, Blaine reached out and took Kurt's other hand as well.

"Just… focus on drawing the air in and pushing it out, okay? Slowly… with me, okay?" Blaine instructed, keeping his voice quiet and calm. "In… and out. In… and out."

Gradually, over the next couple of minutes, Kurt's ragged, uneven gasps fell into pace with Blaine's steady, measured breaths, until finally, Kurt closed his eyes, lowering his head, and let out a shaky, shuddering sob. Blaine cautiously reached out to put an arm around Kurt's shoulders, pulling him close. Blaine was the shorter of the two, but Kurt felt so fragile and small in his arms, like a bird that might break if he held him too tightly.

Blaine was pretty sure Kurt wouldn't appreciate that comparison.

"It's okay," he whispered, withdrawing a little to meet Kurt's tearful eyes. "It's okay… you're all right."

"H-how…how did you know to do that?" Kurt asked, shaky and a little breathless. "I mean… I was there when they told my dad at the hospital how to… that I might… have… but…"

"I… I used to get panic attacks all the time," Blaine confessed softly, looking away for a moment and swallowing hard, carefully composing himself before meeting Kurt's eyes again over a reassuring smile. "I learned the drill pretty well."

Kurt frowned. "Why? I mean… what h-happened…?"

Blaine glanced around, eyeing the small group of onlookers that were lingering in the hallway, still watching them. "Let's get out of here," he suggested with a nervous little laugh. "Come on, I'll take you home… and if you want, I'll tell you all about it."

They were quiet during the walk to the car, but it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. Kurt seemed lost in his own thoughts, understandably, and Blaine was going over his own memories in his mind, trying to decide how much, and well… just how to tell Kurt about his own experience. He was apprehensive, wondering if the story might serve to trigger Kurt's own memories even further, and just be more upsetting to him – but on the other hand, Blaine considered, hearing what had happened to Blaine might help Kurt feel more comfortable opening up and talking to him.

If nothing else, it would prove to Kurt that he wasn't alone.

Halfway back to Kurt's house, Kurt finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and subdued, his gaze focused out the passenger side window.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," he said softly. "I – I ruined our day."

"No," Blaine objected. "No, Kurt, you didn't." He reached out without thinking to place his hand over Kurt's on the seat between them, feeling his face flush a little when Kurt turned to look at him sharply, but did not pull his hand away. "I mean… I've been there, okay? I know… how out of control and… and scary panic attacks can be. I'm just… I'm glad I was there with you. To help." As soon as he said it, Blaine cringed, shaking his head with an apologetic little grimace. "And that came out sounding so… arrogant and like, all about me. 'I'm so glad I was there to be the big hero and…' And… and that sounds even worse, and… I'm sorry. I…"

"No," Kurt cut Blaine off firmly, and Blaine sighed, giving up. "Blaine… I'm sorry it happened, but… you… kind of were the hero. If it had to happen, I – I'm glad you were there, too."

Blaine glanced at Kurt out of the corner of his eye, startled by his words – and then smiled a little, a warm flush creeping into his face as he tried to focus on his driving, and not the pleasantly confused tumult of emotions evoked by Kurt's words.

When they reached Kurt's driveway, Blaine parked the car, then suddenly remembered that he was still holding Kurt's hand. Awkwardly, he withdrew his own hand, giving Kurt an apologetic look.

"I-I'm sorry if that was… if I crossed the line. I know you didn't want – I mean… I just want to be there for you, and… I wasn't trying…"

"Do you want to come inside?"

Blaine blinked, caught off guard by Kurt's quiet interruption, and the hopeful uncertainty in his wide blue eyes as they searched Blaine's face for his response. Speechless for a moment, he tried to catch up with the turn the conversation was taking – and just exactly what that turn might mean, beyond the conversation.

"I mean… you don't have to, if you just want to… to go home, but… there's no one home right now, and… after what just happened…" Kurt looked away for a moment, his eyes betraying a shy vulnerability when he met Blaine's gaze again and confessed in a hushed voice, "I… don't really want to be alone right now."

"O-okay," Blaine agreed, unfastening his seat belt. "Yeah. I'd love to."

Kurt got out of the car on his side, and then waited for Blaine to come around the car, surprising Blaine completely when he reached out and took Blaine's hand again and led him up the walk. Blaine wasn't sure exactly what was happening, or why, but he wasn't inclined to argue or fight it at the moment. His heart soared with a new hope as he followed Kurt to his front door, wondering just exactly what awaited him on the other side.