So this is chapter six. No cliffhangers by my definition this time around.

I don't really have much to say besides the usual thank you-s.

Thank you to Miranda, who helps immensely every single time I finish a chapter.

And to all the people who read and review. Reviews seriously make my day.

Tina's immediate reaction was: something's happened to Artie.

It was a stupid place for her mind to go. But without even knowing what was going on, she convinced herself that some of the football players had gotten a hold of him and sent him up the flagpole again and he couldn't get down. Or he'd gotten hit by a bus. Of course, her mother would have never been this upset about her ex-boyfriend. But after not seeing him at all during the day and then him not showing up to glee club, she was thinking the worst, even though she knew she shouldn't think about him at all.

The actual reason stung just as much.

Last night, her grandfather went to bed as he normally did. The only difference was this morning he didn't wake up.

Her mother explained that they'd found out about an hour after she'd went to school and waited until she got home so she wouldn't worry. He was pushing eighty-five years old, so they were assuming that it was just his time, but the idea of a stroke had been tossed around in the early morning. Whatever the case, he was gone, and the house was filled with distressed family members.

Deep down inside her, in that part of her that was mean and vindictive, she was kind of glad. Because of him and his close-minded attitude, he had put her and Artie through a living hell. But she couldn't bring herself to hold onto all those emotions that had been just below the surface for so long. Because he loved her, in his way. He was only looking out for her best interest—only trying to keep her heritage alive for as long as he could. Even if she didn't think what he did was important or sane, it was a lesson in itself.

In that moment, her mind shut off. Therefore, she couldn't really be responsible for what she did next. She bolted back out the door, running past all of the relatives that tried to stop her, and started down the street. It was cold and she wished she had grabbed her jacket, but it was too late now.

For someone who was obsessed with death—someone who was fascinated by medical examiner shows and murder mysteries—actually facing it head on was absolutely terrifying.

She knew what way she should have turned, what was suppose to be the right way, but she went in the opposite direction. It had only taken a few hours to break her promise to herself and she couldn't really bring herself to care. She needed him, not anyone else.

She ran up the Abrams' front steps and rang the doorbell once with no response, then a second time, and finally a third before the hallway light flicked on just behind the window. She held her breath when the door opened—whether to keep from gasping or sobbing, she wasn't sure.

Artie's face went from blank to angry in a matter of seconds. His arms crossed over his chest, "What are you doing here? Did you come to admit to some more lies?"

She had her hands over her mouth to keep from crying. She was biting her palm so hard she was surprised she hadn't drawn any blood. The hysteria was bubbling in her throat, ready to erupt. She let out a strangled, "Artie." The single world caused her resolve to snap. She began to cry violent, shaking sobs in his doorway. No longer able to keep herself up, she crashed into the door jam, sliding to the ground.

Artie wasn't completely heartless. He gazed at her curiously as her head fell against his leg. He noticed almost immediately that she was covered in goose-bumps from the lack of jacket and she didn't have her signature black-messenger bag slung over her shoulder. If she had forgotten those things, then something had caused her to leave somewhere quickly. Without even thinking.

He could tell something was wrong, something far beyond that problems between the two of them. Something that made her forget everything and come straight to him.
Her make-up was starting to run down her cheeks. And she was shivering from being so cold.

After a minute, she was able to choke out what was wrong. Her grandfather had died last night.

Artie was at a loss for what to do. He had never really experienced anything like this before. Both sets of his grandparents were alive and well, the pictures of health, living in plush condos in Florida. He could only assume how jarring it was, especially for someone as emotional as Tina. However mad he was at her, however much he wanted to push her away, he had to set all of that aside for a while. He couldn't think of sending her away in this wounded state. He could only imagine the kind of trouble she could get herself into.

Artie really didn't want to care. But he did anyway. He couldn't help it.

The vindictive part of him wanted to tell her to go cry to her boyfriend. The words were on his tongue when he had first opened the door, but when she managed to choke out his name and the floodgates opened, and she was crying harder than he had ever seen her before, he couldn't send her away. That would just be cruel.

"Tina, come on. Get up," he said gently, finding her hand and tugging on it. He let it go quickly once she had gotten the message. He had to hold in a surprised breath when she sat on his lap, her damp face burying itself into his neck. He wasn't exactly sure what to do, so he wheeled them into his room, which had been cleaned up since his outburst on Friday. The only evidence of what had taken place being a large crack in his mirror and a lack of pictures on the walls.

"Hop up," he said, reaching around her to pat his bed. She moved to sit on his bed as he rolled into the bathroom, finding a box of tissues, and getting a blanket out of the hall closet. When he returned to her, she was still crying, with no signs of stopping. He offered her one of the issues, but when she didn't take one, he pulled one out of the box and wiped the smeared make-up from her cheeks himself, then wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

She leaned forward, eased her face onto his shoulder. Only then did he touch her, giving her a gentle pat on the back, then rubbing his palm in a slow circle. She climbed back into his lap after a few minutes, after the position she was in became uncomfortable. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, the other joining it.

"It's…um, it's okay," he murmured, "Everything's gonna be okay."

He couldn't think of anything more soothing to say. He was trying his best.

It was completely normal when your ex-girlfriend comes to you, looking for comfort when she has a perfectly capable boyfriend a few blocks away to do this job.

She didn't respond, a fresh wave of tears spilling forth from his words.

He didn't say much after that, instead deciding to let her cry herself out for a while and then talk. When the tears had subsided, they were silent for a few minutes, their only movement being her hand rubbing up and down his chest, scrunching and un-scrunching the fabric of his shirt. He tried to lighten the mood, joking, "Knowing you, I thought you would have come to drag me to go poke the body with you or something."

She smiled even though she knew she shouldn't. His statement was so horrible that she couldn't help but find it a little bit funny.

They were silent again for a few more minutes before Artie asked, "Why didn't you go to your boyfriend?"

His voice was light because he was trying so hard to be conversation about it. Because he was genuinely curious about it, but the moment he finished the sentence, she stood up, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. The blanket around her shoulders dropped to the floor.

"You're…you're right. You're right," she mumbled, even though he wasn't exactly sure what he was right about. She pulled her shirt sleeves down so they covered a little bit more of her arms and started to walk out of his room. She stood in the doorway for a moment before opening the door, "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry I bothered you."

With that, she jogged down the front ramp and the driveway, before disappearing from Artie's line of sight. Without even a second thought, he grabbed his key from the bowl next to the door and made sure the door was locked before following after her. He rolled down the ramp, yelling, "Tina!"

The problem was that she was already too far in front of him for her to hear him. He continued to chase after her for the three blocks between his house and hers until he was wheeling in front of her house. The cold air of fall was whipping at his face, but he couldn't stop. He knew that he should have, though.

The turn around you idiot message finally became clear when he ran into something stable. He assumed he'd just gotten off course a bit and hit a tree or a stray bike left on the sidewalk, but he looked up to see that he had ran head on into Mike Chang, who was now rubbing his calf.

Tina was standing on the porch. She looked from Artie to Mike, then back to Artie before bounding down the steps and running into Mike's arms. He kissed the top of her head and whispered something in her ear, which she nodded to.

To anyone else, it was clear who she chose. But not to Artie, who could see Tina's eyes staring straight into his.

Not wanting to break their moment or maybe just to save himself from more heartbreak, he started down the street.

Tina watched him go, wishing he had stayed. Or at least said something before he went.

Mike held her head against his shoulder and said calmly, "I know you still love him."

She pulled back to look at him, "What? No."

"You don't have to lie," he replied, "I always kind of knew. I saw all the signs—you know, how you looked at him and how you'd let go off my hand when you'd see him."

"Mike…I'm so sorry," she said finally, looking to the ground, "I just…you deserved so much better. Look at you, you're not even mad at me."

"Hey," he said, lifting her chin with his finger, "We were fun while we lasted, didn't we?"

She gave him a small smile, "Yeah."

"And we're still friends, right?"

"Of course."

"Then we're good," he said, "Maybe we weren't right. Lots of people try to be together and they just don't fit. I'm not mad at you for loving Artie because I've accepted that we just weren't right. But you and Artie…what if you were, all along? It would kill me if I broke up a couple destined to be together."

"We shouldn't be having this conversation," Tina said with a biting laugh, "It's just too weird."

He shrugged, "But what if I'm right? Then what?"

"I'll make sure you're invited to our wedding. We'll name our first born after you or something."

"Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good deal." They laughed and seeing that this was the end of their conversation, their break-up, whatever this was, he kissed her forehead gently and said, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," she replied, "Later."

She went back into the house, shutting the door behind her. She leaned her back against it, wondering why that had been so easy. It was almost comforting to know that Mike had known that whole time. And that he was almost…doing her a solid. He made it so her grandfather left this earth knowing that Tina was, in his skewed view of the subject, honoring her heritage.

She wasn't expecting the break-up to happen like this. She didn't want to cry; she felt like it was the right time for them. Sometimes, things just have a natural ending.

Tina didn't go into school the next day, mostly from pure exhaustion—her house hadn't quieted down enough to sleep until after one and then her mind wouldn't shut off until well after three—and also because funeral preparations were in full swing. It was being held on Friday and her mother insisted that they needed help around the house, but really Tina just sat on the couch, listening to her parents make phone calls to various friends and family, breaking the bad news.

She didn't hear from Artie again all week but Rachel had informed her that he'd shown up on Tuesday for glee club. Her friend also confirmed that Artie hadn't come to school the day before, which was probably why she didn't see him.

Most of the glee clubbers found out through Mike about her grandfather. He was almost family to her—their grandfathers being best friends and all—so she didn't mind. She got many condolence texts, which she responded to as they came in. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

The sting of the death made her body go cold whenever she thought about it. She used to want to know what death was like, sometimes even wishing for it when things got tough, but now, she couldn't dream of it.

She couldn't imagine leaving her family or her friends behind. Or glee club.

But especially Artie. She could never think of leaving him.