"Come on," Reid said, sensing his friend's tension at the sight and sound of the busy cafeteria. He leaned in to whisper in Aiden's ear. "You're good. I've got you."
But he didn't feel good. Aiden felt awful, just like at the shoe store and in London when he was trapped. Panic quickly set in. Hands trembled at the thought of walking through the crowd; clinging to paper in pocket didn't help.
His chest pumped one hundred times faster than before, making him dizzy.
If he walked through that room, everyone would see him. Everyone would look at the new boy with his stupid bright pink hair and start talking. He'd become a walking target who couldn't escape; he would be weak and vulnerable again. 
Open to hatred and violence.
Turning on his heel and grabbing one side of Reid's jacket, Aiden pulled, his fist clamping around the denim material as hard as possible.
Reid didn't miss the tears in his eyes as the other boy puffed and gasped for air like a fish out of water.
"You are safe here, Aiden," the blonde said, wrapping one arm around the boy to pull him close. To give the safety net he needed. "Nobody cares who you are or what you like."
But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough.
His blood ran ice-cold as he trembled in Reid's arms, battling the urge to run away and blinking back huge wells of fretful tears as he buried his face in the boy's shoulder.
On his first day, Aiden couldn't cry in front of half the school. That was a recipe to fail, and he didn't want to cry in front of his new friends. They would think he was pathetic and abandon him.
This couldn't keep happening; he couldn't keep freaking out whenever he saw more than half a dozen people in a room. 
But there was no fighting the anxious cold sweat rising through his body or the dizzying headache pounding in his brain. They did this to him; left him trapped in this emotional mess, unable to escape.
That was until his white knight appeared from nowhere.
The older boy was good at sneaking up on people. His lack of voice and light footsteps ensured that.
The pink-haired boy froze when he felt a firm touch at the centre of his back. But he didn't freeze through fear or anxiety; it was different.
Something softer and warmer, kinder on his soul.
The same hand that stopped him from leaving the shoe store alone. The same hand that led him through the mall selflessly and then pulled him around the coffee shop.
Aiden gasped at the warmth radiating into his skin, subconsciously pulling back from Reid and into the other boy's touch.
His immediate reaction was to turn around and throw himself in Nathan's arms, letting him embrace and hold him. But he knew the older boy wouldn't like that and that it would probably hurt.
Taking a deep breath, Aiden turned, letting go of the blonde's jacket to look at the white-haired boy. And like earlier that morning, his heart skipped when their eyes made contact. Nathan was too beautiful for his own good.
Nathan couldn't use his voice, but his eyes spoke volumes. The younger boy knew exactly what he wanted to say just by looking at him.
He projected confidence and fearlessness, protection, and sanctuary, power and understanding. Nathan, despite his stoic mask, understood the fear of the unknown better than anyone.
The silent boy turned the pink-haired boy around, his hand resting on his back, and took a single step. Aiden followed, his feet hitting autopilot mode and falling into line with the older boy beside him.