Blaise was probably the only person who could have known what had happened to Theo - he was always the one there when Theo woke from his nightmares like a car running into a brick wall, sudden and in shock and with a scream stuck in his throat; he was there when Theo woke up crouched in a corner or about to topple downstairs because he'd been walking in his sleep. Blaise was the only person who was likely to have heard the things he muttered in his sleep if they hadn't been disguised by wards and Blaise was the only person Theo had even come close to telling.
That Blaise didn't know the specifics spoke volumes on how thoroughly Theo had tried to pretend that nothing was happening, but it didn't matter. Even if his friend didn't know everything he knew enough and more than that, he knew how to guide Theo back out of his head. He heard Blaise speak like it was coming through a tunnel, like whispers from behind a wall, barely heard although part of him was listening, enough to move to biting at his bottom lip hard in guilt and gratitude both. Family wasn't something he'd wanted to be a part of until he'd found that he could cobble together one of his own from people who weren't his blood - the fact that they weren't but still managed to be like one actually made more sense to him.
He didn't really come back as much as pay more attention to where he was now instead of then, and it was as though Blaise was a flicker of light moving like an apparition to sit before him. Although his attention had been hooked on the object on his hand it was now as though he'd forgotten what it was he was holding. He turned his hand knuckles down and opened his fist towards Blaise, the cylinder of bone lying in the red indentations it had made in his palm. "Fragments." he advised, vague and still distant. "Punishment and history."