Artie shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him and digging his numb hands under his arms. The forecast actually said it was quite nice out; warm and sunny and almost the perfect spring day. But watching his father's van, the ramp slowly lowering, it was hard to be happy. This is what he must look like every single day... and Quinn was actually smiling.
Once she was safely on the ground, she glanced up at their ride. "Thanks so much, Mr. Abrams. I really appreciate your hospitality through all this."
"No problem," Artie's father just chuckled, pretending this was easy. He adjusted his glasses, "Any friend of Artie's is a friend of ours."
Artie did the same thing with his glasses. Did it really look that bad? He sighed, looking up at Quinn. He tried to smile. "You ready?"
She nodded fiercely. It was just about the only thing he recognized about her these days. Just a couple of months ago, she had been intense and upset. She had been plotting ways to get her baby back, to the point of almost kidnapping her, and now? Now she was just like him and she was smiling. "Let's go," she said finally. The intensity remained... but the attitude had turned completely around for the better. He almost wished it hadn't changed.
Artie led the way, trying to shake off the feeling. The ramp at the front of the school traversed just a couple of steps and it was easy, even for Quinn. Maybe he'd take her up the back way later, show her some tips, but for right now, he just wanted to get inside.
Away from her.
He made to turn away from her, but Quinn laughed, surprising him."You ready for our duet?" He'd almost forgotten about the stupid promise he'd made to sing with her while she was in the hospital. Of course now he regretted it. What ever made him think this was a good idea?
Right, he was supposed to be supporting her.
Before he could answer her, there was Finn and Rachel and she was telling them she was thankful to be alive and that this was the best day of her life.
Artie couldn't understand any of this right now, but he put on a happy face and did the stupid song. It was easy to mask the pain like that; he'd gotten so good at it over the years. He was actually the one who picked out the song to begin with, and even now, he had to laugh at the ridiculous irony. It almost made the whole thing a little easier. Almost.
Quinn explained her injury to the whole glee club, telling them not to get too upset because it was only temporary. She was actually making promises that she'd walk again, like it was up to her.
It wasn't. He should know.
Between that and Tina almost breaking down crying, it was too much. He was glad when he could get out of there, even if it was only to go to math class. At least pre-calc took his mind off things.
Only it wasn't very long before the numbers began blurring together and his mind drifted back to Quinn. Every day details seemed so much sharper than they usually did. Those looks that they got in the halls, the way Quinn struggled to do basic things. It frustrated him. He thought he was doing good now, really good. The play he'd directed had been a huge success and more than that, he was finally comfortable with himself. Yeah, he still got angry sometimes and maybe he still had a long way to go with that. But these days his anger was more about the way people were treating his friends and not about circumstances that he couldn't change.
But than everything had changed. Of course he was glad Quinn was alive, but everyone was so upset to see her in that chair. Shouldn't they be used to it by now, from him? Even Tina, a girl he once thought he loved, couldn't shake the sorrow. And if it was really that tragic, why did he have to be so god damned happy all the time? As for Quinn, she was acting like everything was fine and peachy. She was so sure this was only temporary. But what if it wasn't? ...what if it was? Selfish thoughts about both outcomes crept to the surface. On one hand, he would finally have someone to relate to... On the other, he would finally have someone cheer on as she got better.
He didn't mind that she was staying with them; she really had nowhere else to go. He just didn't want to see her the first thing in the morning, humming some perky little tune while she was getting ready. She didn't realize just how fragile the balance was for him at home. He didn't want to see her in school, not even bothered by those Cheerios. Cheerleading used to be practically all she cared about for years and she'd finally gotten back on the team. And he didn't want to see what he must look like to everyone else.
He tried not to care what they thought. He'd worked so hard; built up such an image for himself. He'd thought he was actually starting to like the endearing, nerdy guy that he was. But honestly, at the end of the day, he was still a self-conscious teenager and he didn't need reminders that he looked different. Reminders that if this wasn't easy, if he wasn't happy, he must be doing something wrong.
Well, he must have been doing it wrong for years.
And on Friday, when Quinn said, "I'm not like you, this isn't my life," it really hurt. He hadn't asked for this life either. It just made it that much harder that she was so new to this and she was just accepting it. Because this wasn't easy. He didn't always like the mask he wore. He couldn't just accept his fate. And maybe he and Quinn had that much in common.