Blaine's discovered over the last few years that fear has this nasty little habit of gradually getting worse. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you grow out of it. Like being scared of the Boogie Man under the bed, or monsters that hide in the dark.

He stopped being afraid of the boggy man at four when he army-crawled under his bed, flash light in one hand, bike helmet on, skipping rope tide around his waist and bed post with a soft ball bat at the ready to fight off the monster. He never did find the Boogie Man's lair.

Fear of the dark, however, that's a little bit harder to fight, especially when it directly remindshim of his time in the hall closet. For Blaine, they go hand in hand.

Achluophobia - Noun - and abnormal/irrational fear of the night or darkness.

It made sense to him, the closet is always dark, and his nightmares always take place in pitch black; why wouldn't he be afraid of the dark? He slept with his curtains cracked to let light from the street outside spill into his room.

But this...this is too much. There's a sliver of light under the crack of the door but it's not enough to help him calm down.

He can'tbreathe.

His entire upper body is more battered than it was when he stumbled into school to begin with, repeatedly smashing into the walls and doors, hands scrabbling uselessly at anything and everything they hit, screams ripping their way from his chest, tearing at his throat and falling on deaf ears beyond the walls.

Walls that were closing in; he could feel them pressing against him on all sides, crushing him until he was curled in on himself, knees pressed tight to his abdominal muscles in the foetal position, rocking back and forth as his hands alternate between trying to free himself and gripping at his hair.He was vaguely aware of his fingers bleeding, stinging as he clawed at the surfaces surrounding him.

"But I'll be good...please don't make me go in there, dad...I'll be better I promise."

"Please, help me."

"Get the fuck in there."

Can't breathe...

A choke off sob broke through his bitten down lips, as he began to slam his back against the concrete wall behind him, tears streaming down his face as black dots swarmed his vision. His fingers dug their way under the gel in his hair, tearing at it - trying to use the pain in an attempt to ground himself (it had worked before, a tried and tested method of his) -but his body was shaking too much to do anything other than try to hang on and gasp down that ever allusive oxygen.

Breathe.

"She left us because of YOU!"

"I'm sorry."

Breathe...just fucking breathe.

"DAD! DAD, PLEASE LET ME OUT! DAD! DADDY!"

Breathe, Blaine.

"Fag."

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"She should've gotten that fucking abortion."

It's not real.

"Useless."

"Hello?"

"Worthless piece of crap."

It's all in your fucking head so just BREATHE.

If Blaine hadn't been so far into his own mind, all but submerged in fully fledged panic he may have noticed the door being thrown open and a body leaning to kneel in front of him, hands raised in surrender.

Instead he whimpered, kept his eyes slammed shut and backed even further into his corner, the sobbing reaching hysteria in his terror.

"-aine...Blaine...Bl...wrong?" Another voice joined in with the ones screaming inside his mind. Hands gripped at his shaking shoulders, pulled futilely at the fingers tugging his hair out by the roots. "Bla...ine...SOMEONE HELP ME!"

He wasn't aware of the other student upending his bag, shoving books and papers and random objects aside until they spotted his little blue inhaler, moving slowly to sit by his side. Gentle hands pushed his hair, now torn free from it's gelled down prison, stroking over his arms since trying to move him from his position cowering on the floor wasn't working.

For fucks sake, breathe!Blaine whimpered again,(why is there no air?) sucking in deep lungful after lungful of oxygen that seemed to be doing fuck all. The little black dots dancing around every time he cracked his eyes seemed to be bleeding into each other, turning the edges of his vision fuzzy, like a bad quality black and white movie, tunnelling to one point that he couldn't even focus on. Even with his eyes screwed shut his head spun.

It's just fear. It's not rational. It's just fear.

Half formed sentences forced themselves into his consciousness, he became aware of someone talking but for the life of him nothing was making sense anymore.

"Some...pl...help!"It's not real; walls don't move...ohgodohgodohgod...

"Mar - wha..."

"Get help. NOW...it's okay...Blai...oh God!"

I'm dying...this is what dying feels like.

"...fuck happened?" New hands replaced the ones on his shoulders, larger, warmer ones that cupped the sides of his neck as Marley got up from his side to stand by Finn and Brittany in the hall, out of sight from the two boys but there if they were needed.

"Blaine,"

Breathe....c'mon brea-

"Honey. Honey, I need you to look at me."

"Breathe, Blaine. You can do it,"

Breathe.

Whiskey coloured eyes snapped open to stare frantically into ice-blue ones.

Breathe.

And then the dark got him.

"Is he-"

"-don't know-"

"-here...help me get him-"

Words and voices overlapped as they broke their way into his consciousness. Whimpering slightly Blaine turned his head away from the light he could feel trying to get behind his still screwed shut eyelids, burying his face into something soft and warm.

"Shh, it's okay, Blaine - guys he's....yeah, we can handle this...many people...freak him out more."

He could feel the arms around him, because he was being carried but at the moment Blaine didn't have the energy, let alone the presence of mind to be embarrassed about that just yet. Instead he mumbled something, what he wasn't even sure of himself, as he was lowered carefully onto something soft, one set of hands brushing back his hair and rubbing gently at his cheek while smaller, slightly less steady hands wrapped around one of his still trembling ones.

"Blaine, honey, you need to open your eyes okay?" a gentle, familiar voice spoke near his ear. He knew that voice...didn't he? It made him feel safer, better anyway so Blaine hoped it wouldn't stop talking to him.

Whimpering he batted with free hand at the ones by his head, opening his eyes would just bring everything back - didn't the voice know that? This odd fever dream (is it a fever dream when you're passed out from a panic attack and not an actual fever?) was much more preferable to being awake and trapped and slowly suffocating to death. Opening his eyes would just ruin the illusion. He'd always believed that the whole 'suffocation is like falling asleep' was a load of crap but this seemed to be proving it all right so far. It was a nice way to die, considering he was starting to think he'd be beaten to death instead.

"You're okay now, Blaine." A different, still familiar but only just, voice joined...more feminine than the other. "You're safe."

You're safe.Blaine's not sure he's been really, truly 'safe' for years. What an odd thing to say.

"C'mon baby..."

You're okay now, you're safe.He certainly felt like he was, but could he trust that feeling? He used to feel safe with Kurt until he messed everything up. And even then that was a brief, wonderful respite from his every day life.Nothing lasts forever, Blaine.The last words his mother ever said to him before she walked out and never looked back.

Groaning, Blaine shuffled slightly, feeling the sheets crinkle underneath him on the...bed? Well that certainly felt real. So did the warm, shaky hands clutching at different parts of his body...you weren't supposed to feel something like that in dreams were you? Blinking his eyes open Blaine squinted around the room, his vision was still fuzzy, like an out-of-focus photograph, but he recognised enough to place himself in the room just off of the nurse's office.

Marley was sat in a chair by his hips, hands clasped over his left hand, absentmindedly massaging his knuckles as she bit back tears.

"Blaine, sweetie?" Kurt's voice broke through the haze, relief prominent in every syllable. His sea-green eyes, wide with just barely disguised panic locked onto his still confused ones. He was always disorientated after a panic attack but this seemed different - what the hell was Kurt doing cradling his head and shoulders like he thought he would break?

"Ku-rt?" He blinked at the slur in his voice, "Mar-ley? Whaa...I-I don't."

"Shh, it's okay, you were locked in a closet Blaine," Marley hushed him, looking all the while like she was fighting back tears, "I could hear you in there...you were - you really scared me."

"M'sorry."

The younger girl shook her head sharply, staring at the boy in the bed, "Don't you dare be sorry. I'm just glad I found you in time; you weren't breathing properly."

Rolling his head to the side, becoming aware of the dampness on his face as he did so, to look at Kurt. The other boy - man now - was raking his eyes over every inch of him, analysing every little detail.

"I'll leave you two alone," Marley got up to leave, pressing a firm kiss to Blaine's forehead and squeezing Kurt's shoulder as she walked out.

"Here, you're probably calm enough to have this now." His inhaler was pressed against his lips, any other person would have handed it to him but Blaine couldn't be anything other than grateful because there was no way his hand would be able to function enough to do that just yet. "Ready?"

Removing the medication after a moment Kurt rolled his chair down a fraction to get a better view of his ex. Blaine was still staring around the room; trying to figure out where he was and how in the hell he'd gotten there. Nothing was making any sense to him.

"You passed out."

"What?"

"I was meeting Finn for lunch, I was gonna surprise everyone in Glee club today, and Brit comes tearing into the choir room crying about you being possessed." He shook his head, one hand running through his uncharacteristically messy hair, laughing hollowly. "I've never been more terrified in my life when I saw you. You'd backed yourself into a corner and were rocking as you cried and you, you couldn't breathe Blaine...you looked like you were pulling your hair out," the fingers brushing the curls by his ear moved to stroke over his head, "you just - what the fuck was that?"

"I don't," clearing his throat Blaine shook his head, trying to focus more on the man sitting beside him, "my head hurts."

"Okay...I'm gonna take you home okay. No one's answering at your place and you need someone to keep an eye on you for a little bit; it's just in case you hit your head or something while you were alone," he added quickly to ease Blaine's confusion.

"No...no, I don't...not home."

"Shh, okay, it's okay I'm just going to take you to mine honey."

Blaine shook his head, eyes closing because he hadn't been to Kurt's house since the other boy had left for New York last year - when they were still them, how was he supposed to do it now? But Kurt's couldn't take him home in case his dad was there.

"No arguing, c'mon." Kurt wrapped an arm under his back, gently lifting him up until he was sitting, breathing heavily, leant against Kurt's chest before moving even slower to get to his feet. Kurt grabbed his school bag from the table next to them, adjusted his grip around Blaine's waist and hoisted his un-bandaged arm over his shoulders, supporting pretty much all of Blaine's weight as they slowly made their way to Finn's truck. After helping him in awkwardly, Kurt jogged around to the driver's side, turning on the ignition and reaching over to cup Blaine's cheek, thumb running feather-light under his bruised, but hopefully still covered, eye. He didn't want to think too hard about the look of rage taking over Kurt's face now that he seemed to have reassured himself that Blaine was okay for the present moment.

"Go to sleep, sweetie. We'll talk later."

Nodding Blaine let himself get dragged back under, only this time he went willingly, welcoming the dark instead of fighting it.

Breathe.