Everyone keeps telling him how he's feeling is completely natural.

"It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be angry. It's okay to be sad." The counselors, the teachers, even his parents are all quick to reassure. Blaine wishes they would stop telling him all the ways in which how he's feeling is to be expected.

Because all those words they keep using…he just doesn't feel them. Blaine isn't actually sure how he feels most of the time, but if he had to describe it, it wouldn't be scared, sad, or angry. If anything, the first word that comes to mind is numb.

While it was happening, yes, terror was a constant companion. Fear of the unknown, of the world outside that chorus room, fear of being hurt or killed, fear of the people he loves being hurt or killed. Fear of weapons, and of students that he knew and attended school with everyday who suddenly became capable of this kind of violence. Then, in the immediate aftermath, when safety had been established, the feeling of half hysterical relief.

That first night, he couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes he could feel the dark of the chorus room closing in around him and leaving him slipping into overwhelming memories of terrified faces and desperate confessions and camera's demanding he bare his soul, just in case. Blaine couldn't then, and still can't, contemplate just in case. He purposefully shuts down all thoughts of what if as soon as they make their way into his head. He knows he's shutting down, refusing to acknowledge, refusing to deal, but he doesn't know how else to handle this.

He's supposed to be the strong one. The one everyone depends on. He can't afford to fall apart. The rest of them, they draw on him for strength. But he doesn't know where he's supposed to draw enough strength for himself from, never mind enough for the rest of them to pull from him. He's the Senior Class President, he's supposed to lead by example. He's supposed to have words of inspiration for the students around him to help them move forward. He doesn't know how to do that. How is he supposed to move forward when his mind is constantly thrown back into the past? Fear and pain collide into each other until Blaine thinks he may never get out from underneath it.

Classes exhaust him. Fear betrays him. His body hasn't been able to fully come down from high alert since the first shot echoed down the corridor. Loud noises and unexpected touches make him flinch. Panic lurks at the edges of his consciousness. And so his mind does the only thing it can think of to cope. It shuts down. Turns off emotion. Blaine can only cope right now by simply existing. By focusing on each individual task that stands between him and the days end. He focuses on actions, carefully avoiding feelings.

He knows it isn't healthy. He knows he can't keep it up. The emotions are always simmering just below the surface. But he can't handle them right now. And he can't share them with anyone.

It's the isolation in the middle of a crowd that's wearing at him. Blaine thrives on interaction. He has an inherit need to be with people, to please people, to be appreciated. But right now, he can't deal with people. His friends from Glee are all trying with various degrees of success to deal with the same trauma he is. He doesn't feel comfortable burdening them with his own issues, and he is so overwhelmed most of the time that he can't imagine having the capability at present to help them with theirs. Their mutual experiences are more of a trigger and a hindrance to recovery at the moment. They are all so traumatized that they can't quite get to the point of looking outside of themselves yet. Blaine can't fault them for that. He hasn't reached that point either.

His family tries their best to be supportive, but it's a struggle for all of them. Vulnerability is not typically expressed or received well in the Anderson household. Of course, something of this magnitude has never occurred before, either. And Blaine has been totally blown away by the effort his parents put into being there for him. That first night, when they just held each other and cried, was something Blaine doesn't remember ever having occurred before, even after the Sadie Hawkins Dance. His father's usual stoic demeanor had developed some definite cracks that Blaine had never expected to see. He doesn't remember even seeing his parents cry before that night.

But they still have no idea how to handle this, not really. They tiptoe around him now, as if fearful that they could set his PTSD symptoms off with a single unexpected gesture or unkind word. They discuss how Blaine's doing, yet somehow miss the more important question of how Blaine is feeling.

Blaine still hasn't managed to talk to Kurt yet. Part of him wants so, so badly to just pick up the phone and collapse into the safety of Kurt's voice on the other end. But Blaine still isn't sure where he stands with Kurt. He's not ready to have that conversation. And perhaps he is being stupid, but he's deathly afraid that when Kurt hears of this, hears how much more broken it has left Blaine, he won't have the heart to stand beside him anymore. Blaine can't afford to lose Kurt. He will talk to him, eventually, but he's not prepared to yet. The very thought is more terrifying than reassuring. He's not even sure if Kurt has heard what happened yet. It's only been a few days.

Blaine has just about reconciled himself to the fact that he's going to have to just get through this on his own, without any outside help, when he gets a text from a totally unexpected source. He's not going to lie to himself, he actually has a fair amount of reservations about responding, but at this point he's desperate enough to seek shelter at any port offering help in the middle of this storm. And while the students at McKinley are so close to the tragedy, and he can't see them as anything more than a painful reminder, the students behind the text are removed enough from the occurrence that maybe, just maybe, they can assist Blaine in finding some peace.

Which is why, when Blaine get's a text from Trent saying, "Blaine- so, so sorry to hear. r u ok? come see us? please?" he actually texts back to the Warbler's, arranging to meet them at Dalton that Saturday. They were his friends, once. Trent still is. And despite all the trouble the last year had brought between them all, Blaine thinks maybe this is something big enough to bring them all back together. And he's feeling pretty desperate at this point. So he's willing to make the effort.