If twenty years ago someone had told Leo that he was going to suffer from anxiety, he would have laughed, even rudely so. He was a slightly paranoid kid with abandonment issues, but he wasn't anxious and strong emotions didn't upset him. He lived a self-centered life, where the first and most important thing was him, and whatever was outside his little world didn't matter at all – not other people's judgment and, unfortunately, not other people's feelings either.
When Blaine came along, he didn't change his way of feeling, he just tuned it the way he wanted it. Suddenly what mattered was not only Leo but Blaine as well. As long as Blaine was there, nothing else mattered. Leo could literally go through everything – sadness, anger, rage, loneliness – but everything was bearable if he knew that Blaine was going to be there.
Everything went downhill exactly when he stopped.
Dr. Williams, Leo's therapist, explained to him that at some point in his life, precisely when he was fifteen, Blaine became an emotional pillar to him. Once that pillar was removed six years later, and there was nothing to replace it, everything came down. His family and friends tried to find something that could hold him up again, but because of the way Leo was made, so stubborn and so profoundly wounded, nothing else worked the same way. His brain would refuse anything that wasn't the original part that he was missing, like a body rejects transplanted organs or a computer that doesn't work with an incompatible software.
When she first called Blaine back, it was because she thought he could contain the damage, clear the debris in Leo's head and go away leaving a clean space where a new pillar could be installed; but then she realized that when Blaine had entered Leo's life he had become a part of him that simply couldn't be replaced. Leo could either take everything down and rebuild himself from scratches, or put back the original pillar. Eventually, the second option worked.
Leo has been broken, tho. And that's a fact that can't be ignored, even if he has been put back together in the end. This is where the anxiety comes from. His emotional pillar is back where he used to be, but there's a crack in Leo's mind that weakens the whole structure. Every time something happens, the structure shakes and threatens to come down again like it did the first time.
And yet the pillar holds.
Blaine would crack himself – Leo knows that – before letting him crumble again.
Title: Please excuse the mess (Leo lives here)
Three things are infinite: the universe, human stupidity and the number of days Leo can go without cleaning his room, and Adam is not sure about the first two, at this point. With Annie training to go to Mars and back within six months (with many more trips planned for her already) and new planetary systems discovered every year, it's not unlikely that in a distant future man will reach the end of the universe, that will eventually have stopped expanding by that time. As far as human stupidity, Adam is aware that humans can be immeasurably stupid, but sooner or later death always comes to put an end to people's lack of intelligence. Leo, on the other hand, can live in disastrously dire conditions without even notice.
In the early years of their friendship – approximately from kindergarten through elementary school – Adam hadn't noticed how messy Leo could be. At the beginning, he was simply too young to understand and later, when he could have, Kurt was still keeping Leo's room together, cleaning it and tiding it up with the strict schedule of a sergeant on a submarine. But around the time they started middle school, more in the summer preceding that year to be specific, Leo became the unbearable pain in the ass that he was going to be for the rest of his life. He specifically asked his parents for privacy – I'm old enough now, that's what he said – and that's when it begun.
Him watching porn, of course, but also the mess.
It was gradual, so much so that Adam didn't realize it until it was too late, but at some point Leo's room – a good size room, at least twice the size of Adam's – completely disappeared under what seemed to be everything Leo had ever possessed in his entire life and was now scattered everywhere. At the time Adam was young and stupid, and so he would venture in this mess anyway. He would even sit on the bed which, in retrospect, was an hazard on and of itself. That went on through high school as well, but luckily Adam had football training almost every day of the week, and so they would meet anywhere but the radioactive swamp Leo's room was at that point.
By the time they moved in together, Adam should have been used to the sight of Leo's room, but those four years of high school, that he spent mostly away from any room owned by his best friend, had made him forget. Plus, Leo had gotten worse with age and now he could live in a proper jungle made of his own clothes with no further knowledge of his condition. After the initial shock and upon assessing the fact that Leo was now beyond the reach of his patience as far as messy rooms were concerned, Adam resolved himself not to ever enter his room under any circumstances.
That is why he's now standing right outside of it, waiting. “You can get inside while I look for it,” Leo says, moving piles of things around, searching for their supermarket fidelity card that he had promised he had put away in his wallet and obviously wasn't there when Adam asked for it.
“You know the drill, Karofsky,” Adam frowns, sternly. He crosses his arms on his chest in his trademarked disappointed-with-Leo position. “Any exchange between us must happen either while I'm on the threshold or in any other room.”
Leo rolls his eyes. “Prick,” he hisses, as he tries the desk, which is usually the starting point of the downward spiral. Leo doesn't conceive the pieces of furniture of his room as anything but hangers. As the say goes, everything is a clothes hanger if you're brave enough. And Leo most surely is, even though Adam wouldn't call that bravery.
The first thing that goes is always his office chair. Then, for a brief period of time he moves the clothes from the chair to the bed and the other way around every day, until even that vague attempt at order fails and he either starts sleeping with all his wardrobe on his bed or forgets he has even had an office chair to begin with. After that, it's the night-stands, the bookcases, his small couch and, finally, the floor. Moments before someone else forces him to clean up, his room is not visible anymore, things are everywhere but where they were supposed to be and the difference between clean and dirty doesn't exist anymore. Adam doesn't even know how Leo manages to bring people in here. Why don't they run? How do they avoid diseases? He understands that Leo is good in bed, but surely people must value their health more than Leo's cock and ass.
“Ah! Here it is! Told you!” Leo says, showing him the plastic card.
Adam makes a face. “I don't know where that was. I don't wanna know where that was. Now you go and wash it, and while I'm gone, you'll either clean this pig-shed or set fire to it. Are we clear?”
“Yes, captain,” Leo says, giving him a salute.
But he won't, Adam knows it, and some long-eradicated disease will kill them all.