Within a minute or two, his new speech therapist comes out to greet him. He’s young, much younger than Blaine would have imagined, maybe only 5 or 10 years older than Blaine. “Blaine right?” he questions with a slight head bob and a handshake. “I’m Ch-Chad.” Oh no. His therapist stutters. Why would he want to get therapy from someone who stutters?

“Come on in,” Chad directs him to a door down the hall and it would be rude if Blaine left without at least hearing the guy out.

Inside the office, they take a seat in two fairly comfortable office chairs at a small table.

“Usually the first thing people want to know when they meet me is how in the hell am I supposed to take speech therapy seriously from a dude who sa-sa-stutters.”

Blaine blushes a little and drops his gaze.

“I know you were thinking it. I would think it too. In fact, I thought it when I was in your position. The s-s-sah-peech therapist I went to as a kid had a stutter, but I probably learned more from her than anyone else on earth. So now here I am, trying to help the next generation. Though I think you and I are technically in the same generation.”

Who does this guy think he is? Blaine wonders. Does he think we’re going to be friends or something? And what kind of stupid name is Chad? It’s like some dumb surfer name from the 80’s. (His non-loser voice wonders why Blaine is being such an asshole, but that’s easy enough to ignore in his agitated state.)

“So, I’ve read over your assessment and it seems like you’re actually in a really good place to start therapy. Which is why we give the assessments in the first place. But before we dive in, do you have any qu-qu-questions?”

Blaine shakes his head. Even though he has a thousand questions, none of them are good and none of them are particularly useful. Mostly he just wants to ask “what the fuck?” and he knows that isn’t really productive.

“Alright, you do realize that eventually you’re going to, to, to have to talk to me right?”

Blaine rolls his eyes at this, but nods. This is without a doubt the rudest he’s ever been to anyone and he’s not sure why. But it’s like he can’t control it. Until Chad starts talking and just doesn’t stop.

“Listen. I thought you s-s-s-sounded kind of interesting from your OASES, I’m not gonna lie. I wanted to work with a young guy, not just little kids or s-s-stroke victims. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, but I was intrigued by your case and I volunteered for it. But if you want to see, see, see someone else in the practice, someone who’s older, or who doesn’t sa-sa-stutter themselves, that’s fine. Speak now or forever hold your peace. But just consider this, the point of sp-spa-speech therapy, particularly adult speech therapy, isn’t to cure your stutter, it’s to control it. It’s to make you a better communicator. I’ve said about 300 words since you walked in that door, and only st-st-stuttered on about a dozen. From what I gathered from your assessment, your sp-spa-speech is just as bad as mine was as a teenager. In the long run, wouldn’t you rather work with me, someone who you can see has their stutter under control, than with an old lady who never stuttered in her life and sm-sm-smells vaguely like bratwurst?”

At about the time Chat said “or forever hold your peace” Blaine’s mouth had started turning up in a smile. He still wasn’t looking at Chad, but in the end, by the time he got to the word bratwurst Blaine couldn’t contain a laugh a second longer. So he just let it out.

“Ah, so you can make noises. What about speak?”

“Yeah, I can dd-dd-dd-dah-do that too. Sort of.”

“Don’t ever tell anyone that I said Louisa smells like bratwurst.”

“Your sssssecret’s sssafe with me.”

“Yeah, something tells me you’re not exactly... loose lipped.” They both laugh at the bad pun and Blaine feels better and suddenly guilty.

“I’m ss-ss-s-sorry about how, how, how I was acting. I-I-I-I-I,” Blaine’s surprised about this block, surprised that it came on right now when he was actually feeling pretty relaxed. The good news is that he’s suddenly exhibiting all of his tics, including the new and painful neck jerking. So at least he won’t have to explain them or act them out for Chad.

Chad, for his side of the equation, simply sits back in his chair a bit and maintains eye contact with Blaine. As for Blaine, any time his eyes are actually open and in the right direction, he finds Chad’s. He stops the block with a violent throat clearing and shakes his head. “I-I-I, uh, ah, uh,” Blaine looks away now and smiles ruefully as he clears his throat again, “I actually ffffforgot wh-what I was say-say-saying.”

“So, that’s the neck roll you mentioned huh?” Chad inquires.

Blaine bobs his head. “Hurts. Makes mmmmmy neck ssssore.”

“I can imagine. I know we can fix it, Blaine. I’m not going to lie and I’m not going to give you false hope, but you can improve. Ssso tell me why you’re here? I mean, I’ve read why, but I’d like to hear more from you. And try not to avoid any words for me?”

“A lot of dah-dah-dd-ddifferent rr-rr-rreasons,” Blaine says.

“How about you pppick the one that means the most to you right now?” Chad asks.

“Um, well. I’m gay,” here Blaine shrugs and glances at Chad, who seems unphased. “And I just came out over the suh-suh-summer and I want to, ya know, have a, like, uh” here Blaine pauses for 10 seconds, 20 seconds, not even blocked yet, but knowing it’s coming, he inhales sharply and blows out in puff of air “bbbbboyfriend.” He sighs, at least he didn’t strain his neck getting it out. “You know, sss-sah-someday. And I mm-mmet a guy and I like him and I think, mmmm-maybe, he even likes me.” he pauses briefly, because saying that felt weird, but at least a little bit true. But why would Kurt like him? Blaine refocuses his thoughts and finishes with, “However, I can’t ttt-talk to him. Like, just... talk.”

“Well, yes, I could see how you might be interested in such a thing and how your speech would be an obstacle,” Chad remarks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, just a p-p-p-passing sort of interest. Not a, uh, um, bbbbig deal.” Blaine agrees, smiling at their feigned nonchalance.

The hour goes on like that, with Blaine doing his best to talk about himself and Chad commenting or prompting him here and there. Chad thinks that Blaine would benefit from twice a week sessions to start with.

Blaine nods, thinking that he’s going to have confess that he’s going to speech to people. He hasn’t told anyone about starting again, no one but his mom. He hasn’t even told Matt. He definitely hasn’t told Kurt. Blaine is terrified of people being aware of his failures. He doesn’t want anyone to know if this doesn’t work out for him.

On his walk back to his dorm, Blaine considers everything that Chad said to him. And if Chad’s stutter used to be as bad as Blaine’s is and he speaks that well now, maybe, just maybe Blaine can do it. Hell, he’ll settle for even half as good as Chad.

But he’s still not sure he can tell Kurt about it.

~~~~~

Matt’s not in the room when Blaine gets back from speech, so he decides to take this opportunity to text Matt his news, rather than trying to talk to him about it.

2:17 pm
Blaine: Hey, I’m on my way to work
Blaine: but I wanted to tell you that I started going to speech therapy again
Blaine: I don’t know why I didn’t mention it in the first place
Blaine: I guess I’m just embarrassed

2:22 pm
Matt: Don’t be embarrassed.
Matt: I think if it’ll help you it’s a good idea
Matt: Can I hazard a guess at what made you want to go back suddenly?

2:24 pm
Blaine: Sure. guess away.

2:25 pm
Matt: HMMMM. Perhaps a certain young gentleman named KURT!?

2:27 pm
Blaine: Perhaps :)
Blaine: I just hope it works this time

2:30 pm
Matt: Well, good work. Nice going, you’re gonna be a speech therapy champion. You can do it and all that junk.

2:32 pm
Blaine: You have lifted my spirits with your mediocre cliches.

2:34 pm
Matt: I try. I try

2:35 pm
Blaine: Kids are here now.

2:38 pm
Matt: fingers crossed for less urination today.

~~~~~

Blaine is tired. He might even be something beyond tired after spending an hour this afternoon talking to Chad (that’s a LOT of talking for Blaine) and spending the next 4 hours chasing overly rambunctious children around an elementary school gym. If he hadn’t mentioned to Kurt that he was going to be at the coffee shop tonight, he probably wouldn’t have bothered coming. He didn’t even feel like performing, ignoring Matt’s pleas, telling him that this was a great opportunity for him to woo Kerry. (Matt acquiesced quickly after that.)

Kurt’s surprised when he shows up and finds Blaine sitting at a table by himself doing what appears to be statistics homework. He thought for sure he’d be singing tonight. Truth be told, Kurt really wanted to hear Blaine sing again, he’d been looking forward to it.

“That looks fun,” Kurt says as he perches on the chair across from Blaine.

Blaine looks over at Kurt and blinks, almost confusedly. Once he registers who it is, Blaine can’t help but smile. Kurt can’t help but see even through his warm smile, that Blaine is looking a bit worn out this evening, maybe even world weary. So that’s why he’s not up there with Matt right now, Kurt thinks.

“Then I’m dd-dd-doing ss-ss-something wrong. It’s hell,” Blaine responds, running a hand over his tired eyes.

“Doing homework on a Friday night is pretty much always hell. Why would you even bother?”

Blaine shrugs. “I-I-I-I... uh,” and Kurt realizes that he might have said the wrong thing. He forgot for a moment, about insecurities that Blaine might have, about how he said he doesn’t have a lot friends. Maybe this is a pretty good Friday night for Blaine.

Blaine breaks his block and says, “I ww-ww-wanted to get it done. It kept me from be-be-be-be-being nervous about seeing you, too,” Blaine addresses the table with this sentiment, rather than Kurt.

“Oh. I’m sorry I said it like that. I wasn’t judging you, I swear, just talking without a filter.”

“S’okay,” Blaine says.

“So, do you want coffee? I’m buying and you can’t say no because I owe you,” Kurt says in a rush, trying to smooth over whatever mistake he may have just made.

“Um, sure. Coffee ssssounds good,” Blaine responds, still not quite looking Kurt in the eye.

“What kind? I feel like I should know this...” Kurt says with a wrinkle in his brow.

“I tt-tt-tend to swa-switch it up, keep people guessing. To-to-to-night I-I-I just kind of wwwant … coffee. With milk. Pppplease.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll be right back.” Kurt moves into the short line and Blaine watches him until Kurt glances over and waves. Blaine feels caught, but he’s not sure why. He also feels sweaty and weird and overly emotional. He just wants to make it through this encounter and not completely humiliate himself. He’s nervous about what Kurt might expect from the night. Are they supposed to hang out? Like all night? Blaine’s not sure he can do it. His stutter is even worse when he’s tired.

When Kurt returns to the table, Blaine has cleared his homework and gratefully accepts the paper cup of coffee.

“You dddidn’t have to spa-spa-spra-ing for the extra large,” Blaine says sheepishly.

“Why not? I owe you for your patience.”

“I’m p-p-p-p-pretty sure I owe you for your pay-pay-pay-patience too.”

“Nah, you paid for the cheeseburgers. So, really, how are you?”

~~~~~

What Blaine wants to say:
I’m very, very tired. And I’m sorry that I’m not very good at this. I want to be able to talk to you, so I’m going back to speech therapy and that terrifies me. I went today for the first time in a long time and it’s going to be so, so hard. But it’ll be worth it when, eventually, I can just talk to you whenever I want to, without worrying about my stutter. So, I’m tired and I don’t have a lot to say, because I already talked a lot earlier. Don’t feel bad if you want to go do something else tonight besides hang out with me, because this isn’t going to be a fun encounter for either of us. But sometimes soon, I think I’ll be ok. And then things won’t be so awkward. For now though, things are going to be awkward. And you might have to hold up more than your fair share of the conversation. Oh, and I’m sorry about this weird neck twitch thing, hopefully speech therapy will make that better, too. Ok? Cool. I’m going to sleep now.

What Blaine says:
Um. Tired.

~~~~~

Kurt nods in understanding and wishes for the hundredth time he could read Blaine’s mind. Because it’s written all over his face that there’s a lot that he’s not saying. But Kurt is also well aware that urging Blaine to talk right now might not really produce any results. His shoulders are slumped and his mouth is drawn in a frown, his eyelids seem to be fluttering of their own accord, making him look just moments from dropping into sleep.

Kurt makes several attempts at conversation and they fall into stilted small talk for the better part of an hour. But they never quite find their footing, never quite hit their stride. Blaine is trying, as much as he can when his mind and his mouth and his stupid neck twitch just make him exhausted.

Kurt finally says that he has to go meet some friends for a 21st birthday party, but that Blaine should “get in touch” if he’d like to do something over the weekend. Apparently Kurt can’t read Blaine’s hang dog expression at the idea of approaching Kurt for any reason, not when he’s so very tongue tied in his presence. Blaine nods and says goodbye and when Kurt is gone from his sight, only then does he let himself put his head down on the little cafe table for a few minutes. Enjoying the cool formica on his forehead and trying to drum up the energy to walk back to the dorm.

After a minute, Blaine sighs and heaves himself out of his chair. He makes his way back to his room and falls soundly asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

~~~~~

A Moment of Kurt

When I looked back and Blaine’s head was on the table, my heart broke. For a second, I thought he was crying and I had to stop myself from going back over.

Then I realized, no matter what, he wouldn’t want to know that I caught him like that, to know that I saw him that vulnerable, so I just hurried away.

Tonight was … disappointing. I thought maybe he’d come with me to this party, if I asked just the right way. This whole “wooing Blaine” thing is going to be a lot harder than I expected.

I wish I knew what to do.

~~~~~

Friday night obviously did not quite go how either boy had planned.

And then they both spend Saturday agonizing about each other.

In that way only people trying to start a relationship can agonize.

~~~~~

A moment of Blaine

I like him too much.

This is stupid. I should just text him.

He said he wants to be friends and maybe even more than friends someday.

He told me to “get in touch!”

I like him too much and he’s going to think I’m a weirdo.

He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

~~~~~

A moment of Kurt

I really want to call him. But I know he hates the phone.

I could just text him, but I also want him to take his time.

But what if I never see him again?

Ok. If I don’t hear from him in a week, I’ll ask him out.

I told him to “get in touch!”

Maybe he doesn’t like me?

~~~~~

On Sunday, Blaine goes for a run. He’s in his groove, enjoying the air and trying not to think about Kurt. He’s on a quiet street and he gives a quick glance behind him as he goes to cross in the middle of the block, but doesn’t notice the small tree near the curb until his feet are tangled in it and he’s tumbling to his knees.

“Oh shit, fuck, hell,” he hisses quietly as he sinks to the curb. Both of his knees are scraped pretty badly and several of the sharp little branches definitely left scratches across his cheek as he fell. He looks at the blood beginning to seep from the scrapes and has a moment where he’s sure he feels tears building in his eyes.

It hurts and he’s shaken from the fall, but looking closer now they’re just bad scrapes, it’s not like he’s going to need stitches or anything. But, of course, he doesn’t have any money on him to even buy band-aids at the deli two doors down. Maybe they’ll at least take pity on him and give him some wet paper towels. As he’s assessing the damage, Blaine fails to notice a person walking up the street.

“Blaine?” comes a voice from across the street.

“Oh shit, fuck, hell,” he hisses again, as he gives a half-hearted wave to the person he’s been both desperate and scared to see all weekend. The number one person he wouldn’t want to show up as he sat in a puddle of his own shame. He can never catch a break.

Kurt jogs over. “Oh my God, Blaine! You’re bleeding! What happened?”

He nods his head in a way that he hopes doesn’t scream “no shit, Sherlock” and he gestures towards the tree.

“Damn tree. Do you live nearby? Can I help you home? I live like a mile in the other direction, but maybe you’re closer?” Kurt gently touches Blaine’s chin, turning his face a bit to look at the scratches. It takes almost all of Blaine’s strength not to pull away from the soft hand on his face. It’s too much, Kurt’s kindness, it’s almost too much for Blaine to take in.

“Mmmmy dorm is two, uh, uh, over.” He points vaguely and hopes Kurt will just infer the missing word. And then he hopes that Kurt will just go about his business and walk away and forget all about Blaine and they’ll never see each other ever again and Blaine can quit speech therapy and he can just go back to what his life was like before Kurt Hummel entered it and tossed it upside down by calling him level-headed. Damn he could use a level-head right now.

“Ok, how bout this? Stay here for a minute and I’ll go see if I can get something from the deli and we’ll clean you up. Then I’ll walk you back? Ok?” Blaine just nods, again feeling that very real sensation of tears prickling behind his eyes. He swallows hard several times and Kurt pats him on the shoulder as he walks over to the store.

Kurt returns quickly with a small travel first aid kit and a stack of both dry and wet paper towels. He motions for Blaine to move over to the steps of the building behind them. “Do you need help getting up?” Kurt asks. Blaine shakes his head, but internally curses himself for not accepting it when pain radiates through his legs.

He settles on the third step up with a hiss and Kurt smiles at him reassuringly. “This little kit has alcohol swabs and neosporin and bandaids. First I’m going to wipe the blood up a bit ok?

Blaine bites his lip. “No, no, uh. I-I-I-I can dd-ddd-do it.”

“Blaine.” Kurt stands with his hands on his hips. “You’re all shaken up. Look at your hands, they’re trembling. Let me help you. Here,” Kurt hands Blaine one of the wet paper towels, “Hold this to your cheek.”

Blaine does as he’s told. Though when Kurt goes to touch his knee, he can’t help but flinch away a little bit.

“Seriously, let me freaking help you,” Kurt mutters through clenched teeth, as he moves Blaine’s leg back to where he can see the cuts. Then he relaxes his mouth and starts talking soothingly as he dabs at the scrapes, “My stepmom is a nurse. Which doesn’t exactly make me qualified for this, but she’s always preaching certain standards of first aid. You know like clean all cuts thoroughly, check that the airway is clear, don’t move unconscious people, try not to trip over the world’s smallest trees while jogging. Is your airway clear?”

Blaine makes a half and half gesture with his hand. He’s not choking, but Kurt’s fingers on his leg are making it sort of hard to speak. He draws his breath through his teeth as Kurt goes to work with the alcohol swabs. During Kurt’s little monologue Blaine hadn’t even noticed that Kurt had unwrapped one.

“These scrapes aren’t too bad. Bet they hurt like hell though, huh? That sucks.” Kurt glances at him for response. Before Blaine can do more than nod, Kurt looks back at the cuts and continues. “I thought you were going to stop avoiding me maybe, now that we hung out a few times. I thought we were going to at least be friends or something.” Kurt isn’t accusing him of anything, but Blaine can sense some hurt in his tone. At this moment, Blaine is the observer and Kurt is the one averting his eyes.

“Oh. Uh, um. I didn’t want to … bah-bother you. I figured you were,” here his neck gives an awful jerk, “buuuh-buuh-bih-bih-bih-zee.” That didn’t even sound like a word. Kurt stands then and catches Blaine’s eye.

“I wasn’t busy,” Kurt states, matter of factly. “Ok. Let me clean your face now.”

“It’s still ... bah-bah-bleeding?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, a little. There’s only one bad cut. It might leave you with a rogue-ish face scar. You’re lucky it didn’t get your eye.”

Kurt’s gentle hand is cupping Blaine’s chin, holding Blaine’s face steady while he dabs at the cut. Blaine can hardly breathe. He can’t even keep his eyes open. The very nearness of Kurt and his kindness in this unexpected moment is overwhelming Blaine. He’s pretty much trembling all over now and he knows Kurt can feel it. The idea that Kurt can feel how nervous, how scared he is, just makes it worse. It just makes everything worse.

Kurt watches Blaine’s eyelids flutter and feels the tremors running through his body. Kurt can tell Blaine is just barely keeping himself together. If this is how Blaine struggles with everything, how hard he has to fight just remain afloat, then it’s no wonder he looked exhausted Friday at the coffee shop.

“If this cut was any bigger you’d probably need stitches, but there’s a butterfly bandaid in the kit, so I just put that on there. Do you want me to take you to the emergency room, just in case? As previously stated, I’m not actually qualified to assess these wounds.”

Blaine knows Kurt is trying to make him laugh. He knows it but he can’t even try. He rests his elbows on his thighs, squeezes his eyes shut and puts his face in his hands, careful not to disrupt the bandage.

He senses that Kurt sits down next to him, but he can’t look at him. Kurt rubs a tentative circle on Blaine’s back. When Blaine doesn’t flinch away, Kurt leaves his hand there, just light enough to remind Blaine that he’s not alone.

Blaine’s head remains in his hands as he says “I’m always just embarrassing my-my-my-myself around you. I-I-I feel so dah-dumb.”

“Oh, I’m sure the world’s tiniest tree has taken many victims in its short lifetime. I mean, it’s so low to the ground and outside of your line of sight.” Blaine feels Kurt move away from him so he looks up to find Kurt karate chopping at the uppermost branches of the little tree. Blaine finally does laugh, but it’s bitter.

“I-I-I dah-dah-don’t just mmmmean with the tree,” Blaine declares, in a voice much louder than Kurt expected.

“I know,” Kurt answers, “I’m trying to ease your agitation. Apparently it’s not working. Sorry.”

“Oh, God, no,” Blaine sighs, deflating. “I’m ss-ss-ss-sorry. I-I-I-I-I,” Blaine puts his face back in his hands and rubs his eyes. Then he looks up at Kurt and shrugs. “I just … have … no idea ... what I’m … dah-dah-dah-doing.”

“No big deal. So, can I walk you home?” Kurt asks.

“If, if, if you ww-ww-wah-want to,” Blaine answers with a nod.

“Blaine, I swear I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

Blaine stands then and stretches his back. “This is going to hurt like, like, like, uh, uh hell in the mm-mm-morning.” Blaine grabs the railing as he eases off the stairs.

“You need help?” Kurt really wishes Blaine would say yes, to give him a reason to touch him again. But he has a feeling Blaine’s pride is just as bruised as his body right now.

“Oh, no, no, no th-th-thank you.”

The boys walk in silence, slowly with Blaine limping along, for half a block before Kurt stops. Blaine keeps walking a few steps before he notices and then he stops and turns back.

“Listen to me, really listen to me, ok Blaine?”

Blaine nods.

“I don’t ever do things I don’t want to do. If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t, if I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t. If I didn’t like you and didn’t want to hang out with you, I would have never stopped to help you today. If I didn’t want to walk you home after you’ve been accosted by a sapling, I wouldn’t offer. But you’ve got to give me something to work with here. You don’t have to meet me halfway even, I’m ok doing most of the work. But I don’t know how to earn your... trust? I think that’s what I’m trying to do, earn your trust. And I don’t know how. I’ve been entirely sincere with you and yet you seem to question my intent. You need to give a little bit. Just a little.”

Blaine blushes deep red and when he looks at Kurt and sees color high in his cheeks, he feels like a terrible person. He was so wrapped up in his own problems and inadequacies, he forgot (again) how Kurt might be feeling. He inhales deeply. His palms are sweating, he’s blinking too much, he doesn’t know what to say. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Ok. Um. I-I-I dd-dd-do nnneed help. My, my, my knees hurt and, and, and you could help mmmme,” he feels so vulnerable as he says this, keeping his eyes trained on the ground before him, like just asking for help has laid him bare on the sidewalk. Then he feels Kurt’s hand on his wrist as he places Blaine’s arm around his shoulders and Kurt’s arm snakes around Blaine’s waist.

“That’s all you had to say. See how easy that was?”

Blaine barks a laugh. “There w-w-was nnnnothing easy about that.”