"How do you feel you're coping? You've been coming here for three months now. Do you think this is helping?"

Blaine hears a pen tapping impatiently on a pad of paper but doesn't look up.

"I don't know."

He flexes the machinery in his right arm and curls his fingers into the palm of his hand to make a fist. Only he knows there is anything different, his bionic arm looks just like a normal arm on the outside. Only he knows it isn't. Only he knows that almost 60% of his body isn't even human anymore because of what happened.

"If it helps to hear it, I think you have been making progress. I know it must be hard for you to see that though." Blaine nods stiffly. 

He leaves his Dr. Lange's office feeling empty. He knows he needs to be going to therapy in order to "get better" but he feels about in the same as he did when he got out of the hospital. He can walk around the city without being terrified of loud noises, though he finds himself flinching every single time like he can't help it. His therapist keeps telling him it's normal, but every time someone catches him and asks him if he's alright, he feels anything but normal.

------

He has a predefined route he takes every Thursday.

He wakes up early and takes the subway down to where his physical therapists office is. Physical therapy is two hours for Blaine. They make him do exercises to make sure all his parts are still functioning as they should be. His right arm and most of his right shoulder were completely blown off as well as both legs below the knee. He has carbon fibre bones including all of his rib cage and most of his spine. He has artificial lungs, and most haunting of all, an artificial heart that keeps everything working like a giant battery pack. It's not that fake organs are all that new, just about everyone has at least one these days, but it's certainly new to Blaine. He hates it.

After physical therapy he takes the subway back to his psychiatrist. That's only an hour, but it's even more difficult than the physical therapy. His therapist keeps telling him the way he feels is normal, having just come back from the war, but he doesn't feel normal. Most of the time he listens and nods along, not quite ready to open his mouth.

He orders the same thing every week from the Starbucks on the corner. Today he feels exhausted, so he picks a table in the corner and sits down with his drink. He looks out the window and on to the street, watching as the yellow taxis and fast moving people flicker by. He tries not to think about how they remind him of screaming civilians.

It's 10 minutes before he turns his gaze back inside where someone walking in the door catches his eye.

The man is tall, impeccably dressed, with chestnut hair styled higher than Blaine has ever scene on a guy. His cheeks are slightly flushed given the cold weather. Blaine watches as the man removes his gloves delicately and slides them into his pocket while waiting in line at the counter. He can't seem to look away.

------

The man orders his drink and looks around for a place to sit, but the place is packed. That is, except for the chair next to Blaine. To Blaine's surprise the man approaches him with a kind smile.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" He asks. Blaine bolts upwards to pull the chair out for him and the man blushes. Blaine can feel his fake heart beat faster against the back of his carbon fibre rib cage. The man thanks him and removes his coat, draping it over the back of the chair before sitting down beside Blaine.

"My name is Kurt." He says, extending his hand politely. Blaine eyes the hand nervously before taking it in his own.

"Blaine." He says softly. It's the first time he's spoken recreationally to someone he's not related to in three months. The man, Kurt, makes him feel warm in his face and his chest. It's the first time he's felt human in a long time. 

Kurt seems immediately comfortable. He's everything Blaine isn't. He tells Blaine about moving from Lima to New York. He explains that he works at Vogue as the head editor, that he had been working his way up the ladder ever since he graduated high school. 

"What about you?" Kurt asks him and Blaine swallows dryly. His story is much less interesting than Kurt's. He sighs.

"I recently came back from the war." He says, looking down at the table. The war against North Korea is something that everyone knows about, it's always in the back of everyone's mind. It's all over the place. It's been going on for decades, some people think it will never be over. 

"Oh." Is all Kurt says and Blaine wishes he would have just lied instead.

"I had to go, they were going to make my brother go. One from every family, right?" Kurt nods, everyone knows how it works. "But my brother and his wife had just gotten pregnant when he was summoned, so I took his place. I've never had much going for me anyways." Blaine flexes his bionic arm unconsciously. 

"My brother is still over there, actually." Kurt chimes in. "Well, technically he's my step-brother. But we've been a family for a long time. He wanted to join the army after high school. Said it gave him a purpose."

"I'd still be over there if it wasn't for my injuries." Blaine extends his arm, flips it palm up. "The entire thing isn't real." He makes eye contact with Kurt who reaches out to feel Blaine's arm. The skin looks surprisingly real, but even to the touch it's not quite right. Blaine thinks it feels too rubbery, and the fake hair feels too coarse to be real arm hair. Kurt caresses him arm under his finger tips, treats it like glass and like he's never quite seen anything so... beautiful. Blaine wishes he could actually feel the touch against his skin. 

Blaine can feel a set of eyes burrowing into the back of his skull, looking at him, judging him. He catches their gaze, a mix of disgust and confusion. He wonders if everyone can smell the gay on him, or if it's really just that obvious. He pulls his arm back and slides it into his lap under the table. Kurt retracts his hands as well, looking a little defeated at how quickly Blaine closed up in front of him. Blaine can see it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," He says softly. "I'm just not really used to being around people anymore, especially not like this." He tries to smile reassuringly. Kurt brightens a little bit.

"It's okay, I understand. I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

Suddenly there is a loud clatter from behind the counter where one of the barista has dropped several glass plates. The noise makes Blaine's whole body flinch. He tries to hold it together, but the embarrassment causes tears begin to form in his eyes.

"Sorry Kurt," Blaine says quickly, standing up, causing the chair to screech loudly across the floor. "I have to go." It feels like the entire cafe is looking at him, judging him. He speed walks to the door and down the street as fast as he can while being inconspicuous as possible. 

He mentally berates himself for even trying to communicate normally with someone he doesn't know. He should have known this would only lead to humiliation. The stares of the coffee shop patrons burn hotly under his skin.

"Blaine! Wait!" A voice calls from behind him. He turns around and see Kurt, drink in hand, chasing after him. He stops running and waits for Kurt to reach his side, hastily dabbing the corners of his eyes with his coat sleeve.

"You don't have to run away from everyone. You don't have to run away from me." Kurt extends the hand not holding his drink and touches Blaine lightly on the left shoulder. "You don't have to be afraid." Kurt's touch is like nothing he's ever felt. It's so reassuring that Blaine almost wants to believe him. He smiles and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Can I get you number?" Blaine says as he reaches for his phone before he loses his confidence. "I'd like to see you again." Kurt smiles so brightly Blaine can't help but smile back. He would do anything to make Kurt smile like that again.