The way that Blaine's sobs wracked his body tore Puck apart inside, and he shook his head, hating this whole situation and what it was doing to Blaine. He reached into his own jacket pocket, recovering a pack of Kleenex he hadn't taken out since the last time he'd had a cold, and handing them off to Blaine. With soft comforting sounds, he ruffled Blaine's hair with his hand.

Puck nodded slowly, feeling like an epic dick for not telling Blaine what he knew. "I... I did, but Quinn made me promise not to tell... She said it was Kurt's thing to tell, and she was right. I don't understand it either, B, but Quinn says it's like... Kurt has voices in his head telling him that he's fat... They tell him to eat, and then tell him he has to get rid of it or he'll be fat and disgusting... Q said... She said that it took forever for her and Mercedes and Holly even to begin to break through the walls he put up around himself. It's not personal, man... It's the illness talking. Hey!" he interrupted, catching Blaine's chin in his hand to force him to look him in the eye. "You listen to me. You're fucking incredible. You're the best friend I've ever had, and yeah, you're a short ass, and yeah, sometimes you're a pain in the ass, but that's what makes you the awesome dude I'm best friends with. So don't let Kurt's illness make you think less of yourself, dude. That's not Kurt. That's a fucking voice that's telling him he doesn't deserve you."