Quinn nervously adjusted the hem of her skirt, as she approached the Abrams' front door. She'd spent a couple of hours trying to figure out what she should wear, before realizing that that was really the last thing she needed to be worrying about. Artie wouldn't care what she was wearing. If he'd talk to her at all.
She pressed the button on the doorbell, and waited. After a minute or so, the door opened, and she was face to face with Michael.
"Hey, Michael," she said. "Is Artie home?"
He nodded. "He's in his room. Did you guys have a fight, or something? The last couple of days he's been acting like someone killed a kitten and made him watch."
Quinn cringed, both at the image that Michael had just presented her, and at the thought of Artie looking that upset.
"Um…yeah," she said. "We did. Can I come in?"
Michael nodded, stepping aside. "You know where to go."
Quinn nodded, removing her shoes and heading down the hall.
Artie had elected to skip getting dressed that morning, and after breakfast, had decided he may as well just go back to bed and read. If anyone asked, he could just say he wasn't feeling well. His mom wasn't home, so he knew no one would question it.
As he stared at the ceiling, he heard a soft tap on his door.
"Not now, Linds," he said. "In a little while, ok?"
"It's not Linds," a soft voice said on the other side of the door. "Artie…it's me. Can I come in?"
"No, I'm sick," he said. "I don't want you to catch it." He forced a cough, for emphasis.
"Artie, I know you're not sick," she said through the door. "Can I come in…please?"
"Ok," he said, quietly. "But just so you know…I'm not wearing clothes."
"Um…I'll wait," she said, stifling a grin, despite the situation. "Maybe you should put something on."
"No!" he said, louder than he'd been speaking previously. "I just meant I'm wearing pyjama pants and stuff…I'm not naked!"
Quinn pushed open the door, peering inside.
"Hi," she said quietly, walking over to him.
"Hi," he responded. "Here, just a second, let me get up," he said, leaning up on his elbows.
"Don't feel like you have to," she said. "If you're comfortable, then just stay there. Do you mind if I sit on the bed?"
He shook his head, slightly relieved at the fact that she wasn't going to have to see him transfer from his bed into his chair. Not that him lying in his bed like half a pile of useless bricks was helpful either, but it would have to do.
"Artie, I'm sorry," she said, before he could say anything. "I'm so sorry."
He looked away. "I can't believe you did that," he said. "I really…I just can't believe that you did that."
"But Artie," she said, taking his hand. "You were so mad, that you wouldn't listen…I didn't drink before I drove. I did once I got here…but not before. I know the whole thing was stupid...but I didn't do what you think I did."
He looked up. "What?"
"I tried to tell you," she said. "I didn't drink before I drove. I don't know what I was thinking in the first place…I shouldn't have been drinking at all. But I didn't drink before I drove here."
"You didn't?" he asked, softly. "But why didn't you tell me?"
"I did tell you," she said. "But you were so mad, and so upset, that you didn't hear me. And clearly you haven't checked your phone."
Blushing slightly, he shook his head, casting his eyes down into his lap. "No…I kind of decided I should go on a phone hiatus for a couple of days. I guess that was kind of dumb…"
"I'm so, so sorry," she said, again. "At the time I couldn't figure out why you were so mad…but I think I've figured it out.
He looked up. "I was just worried," he said. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Drinking and driving is so dangerous."
She nodded, debating whether she should say something, or wait and see if he brought it up. She tightened her grip on his hand, looking into his eyes…hoping he'd open up to her.
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, before he spoke.
"The person that hit us had been drinking," he whispered, his voice shaky. "I could see the truck coming, and I tried to warn Mom, but it was too late."
Quinn rubbed her thumb gently over the back of his hand, moving further up the bed to be closer to him.
"When I thought you'd been drinking and driving," he went on, "It pushed me over the edge instantly. I couldn't believe it. Deep down I knew that I couldn't be as mad at you as I was, because you didn't know…but at the same time…I just couldn't deal with it. All I could think was what if something had happened to you? What if something had happened to someone else? My brain was just so clouded by that…I don't even remember everything that happened after that."
She nodded. "I just wanted us to talk," she said. "And I thought maybe if we had a bit to drink…we would. I know…stupid."
"Quinn, I'm sorry that I made you feel like that was what had to happen," he said. "I don't like talking about any of this stuff…but I guess we have to, don't we? I can't promise that we'll talk about everything now, but I would like us to start having a conversation…if you still want to."
She smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Only if you're ready," she said. "And if you're not…then it can wait."
He shook his head. "I've been thinking a lot over the last couple of days, and I think we do need to talk about stuff. I'm just going to have to suck it up. This whole thing would never have happened if I'd just let us talk about things in the first place. Come here," he said, carefully shifting his body over to make space for her. "I just need you closer to me. Is that ok?"
She nodded, slowly moving into the space he'd created. "Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be ok?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Because I've been prone to outbursts of rage recently?"
"That wasn't 'outbursts,'" she said. "Just one. And it was justified."
"Yeah, but if I hadn't reacted like that, I'd have heard you, and we wouldn't have had the last couple of days," he said. "Which, I don't know about you, but they were kind of rough for me."
"Me too," she said. "Me too."
"It was such a nice day," he started, softly. "We'd been shopping, and then we were on our way home. I had asked if we could stop at the park, but Mom said we didn't really have time, because she wanted to get the roast in the oven."
Before he'd started talking, Artie had shifted himself so that he was facing her. Quinn was resting her head gently on his arm, while her fingers were wrapped around his free hand.
"I'd been a bit annoyed, but I understood. Grandma and Grandpa were coming over for dinner, and she just wanted it to be nice for them. We came up to the intersection, and stopped at the stop sign. It was our turn to go, so we went. I saw the truck, but it was too late," he said, so quietly that Quinn almost didn't hear. "He ran the stop sign, and ploughed right into us."
He bit his lip, and she waited, unsure of what to say…or if she needed to say anything at all. After a moment, he went on.
"I don't really remember much after that," he said. "I know there were sirens, because I remember wondering who they were for, and hoping that everyone was ok. At the time, I didn't even realize that I was crushed in the car. I'm pretty sure I was in shock, because nothing hurt. I remember trying to talk to Mom, but I couldn't quite make the words."
Quinn blinked rapidly, the image of his tiny body in a twisted hunk of metal, combined with the fact that he had been thinking of others, even then, bringing tears to her eyes.
"I was pretty out of it for the first week or so," he said. "The first time I woke up, like…actually woke up and was fully awake, I knew something was wrong. Mom and Dad were there, and Mom was crying. I tried to move, because I wanted to sit up so I could see her better…and I couldn't. I couldn't understand why, at first, but then one of the doctors came in, and talked to me for a bit. All I could think was that they had to be wrong, because I was only eight, and I still had so much stuff I had to do that involved walking. And running. And stuff like that. And then they said I was never going to be able to do those things again…and it was like I was being crushed all over again. I knew there was nothing I could do about it, and I knew I'd deal with it…but it still hurt."
By that point, Quinn's eyes weren't the only ones that were filled with tears. She gently removed his glasses, and dabbed at his eyes with the corner of his pillowcase.
"This is such a manly display, isn't it?" he said, quietly. "Totally not what you were expecting to get today…or ever. Is it?"
She shook her head. "No," she said. "You're right. Not what I was ever expecting to get."
"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking down. "I've never really talked about this with anyone before. Or...with anyone that wasn't related to me, or paid to listen, anyway."
"Let me finish," she said. "Artie, you're so much more than I ever expected to get."
He looked up. "What?"
"You're amazing. And special. And just...I don't even know how to describe you," she said.
He grinned a little, his eyes lighting up. "Well, I've always liked insanely intelligent and witty, myself," he said. "So you could say that?"
She grinned back. "Well, I was going to say modest, but that's pointless now..."
"Sorry... coping mechanism," he said. "It's way easier to say stuff like that than be serious."
"Well, I do think you're insanely intelligent AND witty," she said. "So we could just pretend I said it in the first place."
"You're the one that's amazing," he said. "You know that, right? I mean...putting up with this...a lot of people wouldn't."
"Well," she whispered, "I can't speak for anyone else, but personally I like 'this,' and I'm planning on putting up with it for a long time."
He smiled. "Before you commit to that," he said, "There are a few things you'll probably want to know."
"I know everything I need to know to make that decision," she said, quietly, leaning in so that her lips were mere inches from his.
"Or...that could wait," he muttered, before leaning in and kissing her.
"Now," Quinn said, resting her head against his chest. "What were you going to say a few minutes ago?"
"Oh…nothing," he said. "It can wait."
"No, Artie, what were going to say?" she tried again.
"Nothing," he said. "Or…yeah, something. I just figured that might have been a good opportunity for us to start the whole thing where I talk about stuff."
She smiled. "And what were you going to say?"
"Just that…" he trailed off, quietly muttering the rest.
"What was that?" she said. "Didn't quite catch that."
"Just that I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to get me to drink in the future, especially by surprise, because I really shouldn't be doing that," he muttered again, louder so that she could hear.
"What happens if you do?" she asked. "Not that I'm going to try something stupid like that again…but what would happen? Just so I know. If you want to tell me."
"Well, for one," he said, "It could cause a really nasty reaction with a medication that I take. Drinking too much could also cause me to get dehydrated, and then there are certain things with my ur…um…well, stuff doesn't work properly, with the…expelling of flui…no. Oh God," he muttered. "Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation right now. Or…ever, actually. This is not stuff that you will ever need to know."
"Hey," she said, placing a hand on his bright red cheek. "It's ok, Artie. You don't have to be embarrassed."
"Um…ok. Well, let's just say that there are certain parts of my body, and circulation and…um…stuff, that don't work quite how they're supposed to, and alcohol can make that worse or cause problems with various…things. Plus, I really just don't like the thought of drinking, even without all that stuff," he finished. "I like to be in full control of my facilities. Or, you know…as much as possible."
She smiled. "Thank you for telling me," she said. "It's important for me to know stuff like that."
"It's just embarrassing," he said. "Probably more than you ever wanted to know."
She shook her head. "I want to know whatever you feel you can tell me," she said. "But don't be embarrassed. There's nothing you could tell me that would change how I see you," she added. "Just so you know. If that's what you're worried about."
He smiled. "You say that now. I'm sure I'll be reminding you of it soon enough," he joked. "Seeing as we're apparently talking about stuff from now on."
She grinned. "I'm glad we're talking about stuff now," she said.
"Again…that's what you say today," he said, a playful glint in his eye. "I give it a few weeks before you wish you'd never tried to get me to say anything."
She swatted him, lightly. "Quiet, you."
"I'm having some trouble getting my lips to stop moving, now that we've started this whole talking thing," he said. "Maybe if you could give them a bit of attention, they'd stop?"
She grinned. "I'll see what I can do about that."
That evening, they were sitting on the porch, watching the world go by.
"I should probably get going," Quinn said. "I told Mom I'd make dinner tonight. And she'll be home from work soon."
Artie nodded.
"Before you go, though, I just have one more question," he said, smiling at her.
She nodded.
"Quinn, I know it's not for a while, but…will you go to prom with me?" he asked, quietly. "I was going to ask you the other day, and, well...that didn't happen, obviously. If you don't want to, I understand. I mean…I'm not your typical prom date…" he trailed off.
She grinned, her eyes tearing up. "Artie, the only person I could ever picture myself going to prom with is you," she said, quietly. "Plus, you know, we're dating…so if either of us went with someone else, that'd be a little weird."
He grinned back. "I thought it was my job to make bad jokes to lighten the situation?" he said, chuckling.
"You must be rubbing off," she said, a tear falling down her cheek.
He reached up, gently wiping the tear away. "So, was that a yes?" he asked.
She smiled, nodding. "That was a yes."
A/N: Corresponds with All My Dreams chapter 103 and The Smile on Your Face chapter 85. :)
