Chapter 21: Movin' In

ARTIE

Sebastian resembled something of a newborn deer learning to walk as he clumsily ambled through the house on his new set of crutches. It would have been kind of amusing to sit back and watch if Artie himself hadn't been in such a hurry.

"That's right, you head right to the shower, young man," Nancy Abrams told him when she saw him turn down the hallway off the kitchen that led to his room. The tone of her voice showed that she meant business, and Artie had no plans to cross her. She'd already spent the better half of the evening chastising him for his 'foolish, foolish choices', and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of any more of that. He'd learned his lesson and allowed his mother to usher him into the shower to go warm up.

"I know, I know, I'm going," Artie replied, just as he heard his mother say to Sebastian, "Here, Sebastian, why don't you go take a seat on the couch and elevate that foot. You need to rest." Artie tried not to roll his eyes.

The decision not to change out of his wet bathing suit earlier had not been his wisest, Artie recognized, as he entered his bedroom. It was true that changing into a pair of sweatpants before they left the house or bringing a hoodie along, would have taken just seconds, and yet… he'd chosen not to. Because of that, Artie had spent the night shivering and experiencing the other unpleasant sensations that came along with slight hypothermia, making him feel lousy and otherwise uncomfortable in his own skin. These were the consequences of his own actions, and there was nobody to blame but himself.

Artie opened his dresser drawers and retrieved his sleeping attire: a pair of boxers, pajama pants, and a t-shirt from last year's Show Choir Nationals competition in New York (where they'd come in twelfth place– not their finest showing, and thankfully, they'd gotten to avenge it this past May). Setting the pile of clothes on his lap, he wheeled into his en suite bathroom to begin his lengthy, time-consuming nighttime routine.

His parents had the fully-accessible bathroom added on as an addition to the house when they were converting the den into his bedroom. He was still in the hospital at the time, and to come home and find that his parents had already done so much to make his life easier and to encourage his independence had meant a lot to his eight-year-old self. As the years had gone by, it had become even more incredibly convenient for him to have his own retrofitted space like this, since both Artie and his things tended to take up a lot of space. Artie's bathroom had tile flooring and was custom-built with his needs in mind. In addition to lowered countertops and mirrors, the handheld shower head, and metal bars on the wall over by the toilet, Artie's shower was of the special 'roll-in' variety. This meant that he didn't have a bathtub or even a shower door. Other than a curtain that could be easily pulled or pushed away, there was no barrier between himself in his chair and his built-in shower bench. This had done wonders for making transfers easy for him, especially on a surface that tended to be quite slippery.

Artie set the pajamas that had been in his lap on the counter by the sink before turning on the shower and allowing the water time to heat up. He then began the task of undressing, tossing his t-shirt, swimsuit, and towels into the hamper beside his toilet. Taking advantage of that moment, he conducted his nightly skin check, looking for any new marks, bruises, sores, cuts, or blisters that he may have acquired throughout the day without realizing. It was an awfully tedious process, and as Artie did this, he realized just how cold his legs and feet were. He already had poor circulation, thanks to all the time he spends sitting down, which was part of what made it so difficult for him to warm back up once he's allowed himself to get cold. A nice warm (but not too hot– hot would propose its own unique set of problems. The water temperature had to be just right) shower would do the trick of heating his body back up and bringing him back to his baseline body temperature.

It was the weirdest thing– something that he'd never tried to explain to anyone– but Artie could physically feel the difference once the warm water had effectively done its job and thawed him out. He felt lighter, refreshed, and overall, just more like an actual human being again, instead of just a cold, cranky, zombie-like shell of himself.

Once he had turned off the running water, Artie reached for a towel and began to meticulously dry off each crack and crevice of his body before transferring back to his chair. Now came a tricky part. Changing into his pajamas was typically a task he could perform easily and quickly back in his bedroom, spread out on the large, plush surface that his queen-sized bed provided him with. But with Sebastian slated to crash there for the weekend, Artie wasn't sure how much privacy he'd have for the next couple of days. And while he and Sebastian had gotten to know each other pretty well over the last couple of months, they didn't know each other in that sort of way, and Artie'd like to keep it that way. At least for the time being. So, Artie endured the struggle of changing into his pajamas while sitting in his chair.

Next up was his nightly bowel routine. This was part of the reason why he scarcely participated in any sort of sleepover, and why a hotel stay– whether with his family, or his friends on a Glee Club trip– had become his personal nightmare. His routine was annoyingly time-consuming, but also incredibly important, and not able to be rushed. He knew that he took three times as long as everyone else– even longer than the girls (or Kurt) with the most meticulous pre-sleep beauty routines– and if there was one thing Artie loathed, it was having other people waiting on him. That was part of why he always got up so early in the morning or offered to be the last one to wash up or change at night. He didn't want to leave other people waiting and wondering what the hell was taking him so long.

Artie knew that, by now, Sebastian was probably out there waiting on him to finish up. If he'd had it his way tonight, Artie would have allowed Sebastian to use the bathroom first. Thanks to the wet bathing suit situation, however, Artie was sure that Nancy Abrams may have ripped him a new one if he had waited any longer before showering himself. And it wasn't like staying in his damp swimsuit for a little bit longer was going to affect Sebastian in any one way or the other, with his intact and functioning spinal cord and all.

After he wrapped that up, the vast majority of Artie's bedtime routine was complete at last. He opened the door to his bedroom and found that Nancy and Harrison were helping Sebastian to get settled in Artie's room for the weekend.

"Check it out," Seb said, leaning on his crutches as their parents made up his sleeping spot for the foreseeable future with extra sheets and pillows from the linen closet. The small futon next to Artie's bed pulled out into a twin-sized bed. "It's like we're having a slumber party!"

"Yeah…" was Artie's less-than-enthused response as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Artie didn't typically host many sleepovers, so therefore, the futon usually stayed folded up. To have it unfolded for the time being meant that Artie had significantly less space to move about his own bedroom. It wasn't like he used his physical therapy equipment often, but on the off chance that he felt like doing so this weekend, he wouldn't be able to get to it, with the pull-out couch in the way. This was going to be a long few days. "Awesome."

"Artie, why don't you show Sebastian around then get the shower going for him?" Nancy suggested as she spread a comforter over Sebastian's bed. Before he could prevent it from happening, Artie's face contorted into an expression that he was sure showed that giving his step-brother a formal tour of his most private space was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

"I mean, I think he knows how to get the water started," Artie began to protest before his mom gave him a stern look with her eyebrows raised for talking back. Artie sighed before relenting and doing as he was told, making a sharp pivot on the hardwood floor and heading back into the bathroom, Sebastian hot on his wheels.

"Um… so this is my bathroom. There's, uh, a sink, and, um, a toilet…" Artie felt his face flush. To be showing Seb the specifics of their home's most unique room was more than just slightly awkward and embarrassing. He wasn't even sure if Sebastian had been in here before– it was the one part of the house that tended to stay pretty off-limits to visitors. Artie kept the door closed at all times.

"You can put what you're wearing in my hamper, I guess. It's all going to the same place anyway. Clean towels are in the basket over there, and if you need to borrow toothpaste or something, it's on the counter," Artie told him. "In fact, anything you should need is probably on the counter. So there's no need to, like, go through the drawers or cabinets or anything. It's all out there."

Artie knew that his not-so-discreet attempt at trying to make sure that Sebastian didn't go rifling through all of his private affairs had backfired the moment that the other guy looked down at him with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. Artie's own face heated up again and he rolled his eyes before glancing away.

"Relax, okay?" said Sebastian. "I'm not going to snoop through your stuff. Even though now I kind of want to."

Artie shot him a murderous glare that quickly sent him backtracking.

"Kidding," Sebastian immediately followed up. "Sorry. That was a bad joke. I'm not going to do that. Listen, Artie, I really appreciate you letting me crash here, okay? I know that you… didn't really have a choice. And that you probably prefer to have your space to yourself. But just… thanks."

Artie gave him a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. "Yeah, well, that's what brothers are for. Anyway… have at it. I'll be in my room."

"Our room."

"Don't push it."

Artie returned to his bedroom to find that Harrison had since left, but his mother was still hanging around, putting the finishing touches on Sebastian's set-up by fluffing his pillows.

Artie wordlessly pulled up beside his bed, locked his wheels in place, and transferred on top of his crisply-made covers, adjusting his legs so that they were laying straight out in front of him. He knew it probably wasn't all that difficult to see that something was bothering him.

"You know, I wasn't really expecting you to be the kid to have an attitude and be full of complaints this evening," Nancy said as she lifted Artie's right leg in the air and began the process of stretching him out. She started at his feet, pointing and flexing his toes and rotating his ankle. "That's not very like the Artie I know. Especially not being mindful of your body. What's the story there?"

Figures that she would wait until she has me in a compromising position to give me a talking to, Artie thought.

"I was worried about Sebastian's foot. I was hurrying to get him to the doctor as quickly as possible," Artie fibbed. "I didn't even stop to think about changing. I didn't even realize that I was still wet until Seb said something."

That wasn't the entire truth. His lowering body temperature had actually been at the forefront of his mind (how could it not be when it made him feel so nauseous?). When the top half of his body had started to shiver, Artie had tried to mask it so that nobody would notice. He knew that his tendency to downplay things in order not to draw attention to himself was a bad habit to have, but most of the time, he didn't care. He never wanted anyone to worry excessively about him– especially in a situation where a 'normal person' wasn't thought twice about. Plus, he didn't want to give his mother, step-father, and brothers another thing to worry about when they were already directing all of their concern Sebastian's way.

"Well, that wasn't very responsible," Nancy told him as she moved on to supporting Artie's knee as she stretched his hamstrings. The way she spoke told Artie that her motherly instincts were telling her that there was more to the story that he wasn't telling her, but she left it alone. "I don't think I need to tell you that."

"No, you don't. I already know," Artie said quietly. He knew that he'd been in the wrong. Sebastian's injury had added a bunch of extra stress to everyone's night– he shouldn't have gone ahead and made it harder for his mother or for Sebastian, who was already in pain. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Is everything alright?" she wondered, maybe just trying to understand why her middle son– who was typically her most easygoing and laidback child of the four– had acted in such a way that was uncharacteristic for him.

"Yeah, I guess," Artie shrugged.

He fixed his gaze on the ceiling fan that was spinning overhead, unable to meet his mother's eyes. Sure, he felt guilty about the way he'd initially reacted to finding out that he was going to have a roommate for the time being, but he also knew that no matter how he phrased his true feelings on everything, it was going to end up sounding like a weak excuse. Truthfully, though, it was just a complicated topic that wasn't the easiest for him to broach.

"I just like having my own space, is all. It doesn't matter how old Sebastian and I were when we entered each other's lives, he's still, like, my little brother."

Was 'little brother' even the right way to describe who Sebastian is to me? Artie wondered. I mean, technically, I am a year older than he is. But I suppose we're more like twins. Seb does, however, possess all of the irritating qualities of a younger sibling…

"I would have reacted the same way if it were Griff or Ella having to stay in here," Artie continued before pausing for a moment and rethinking that last part and adding, "Probably. And as you may remember, Seb and I have a bit of a rocky history. Things are better now, yeah, but personal space is still good. For both of us. I'm already starting to feel a bit suffocated."

"I understand where you're coming from," Nancy acknowledged as she focused her attention on mobilizing Artie's hip, ensuring that the joint remained healthy and movable. "But sometimes unexpected things happen, and we have to take one for the team and prioritize someone else's comfortability over our own. It is temporary, after all. Knowing Sebastian, he'll probably be feeling better in the next couple of days and return to his room upstairs."

When Artie didn't have anything to say to that, his mother went on.

"It seems to me like things have been great between you and Sebastian lately. I always hoped you boys would figure it out, and it makes me really happy to see that you have," she told him. "It's nice that you get to grow up with somebody your own age like this. I know your dad feels that way about him and your Uncle Charlie. I'm sure he's told you that they weren't the best of friends at the beginning either."

"Yeah, he's mentioned that," Artie replied. Back when Artie and Seb had been at odds, Artie had turned to his dad for advice and had gotten to know that family history fairly well. His father had a step-brother too– Artie's Uncle Charlie– and they hadn't started on the best terms either. But over time they'd become closer, and now that they were adults, they were practically inseparable. At the time, that story had instilled some hope in Artie for his and Sebastian's future.

"He really loves you guys, you know. Sebastian does, I mean," Nancy said, regaining Artie's attention by surprising him. "He gets very down every weekend that you kids go to Akron. I try to make an effort to ask him to do things with me when you're gone, but I know it's not the same. He misses his siblings."

"Really?" This was news to him. Over time, Artie had learned that Sebastian had kind of a lonely childhood, but he didn't know that the absence of the Abrams kids for a few days really had that much of an effect on him.

Nancy nodded, gently setting Artie's right leg back onto the mattress and beginning the process of repeating all of the same stretches on his left side. "Are you sure that was all that was bothering you?"

Artie knew that he tended to be pretty easy to read, but nobody was as perceptive or knew him better than his mother. She picked up on everything.

"No," he confessed. Truthfully, there was more to the story. And this was where his real uncertainty lay. "It's just embarrassing."

"What is?"

"All of this," Artie laughed self-deprecatingly. "The deep stretches I have to have help with once– sometimes twice– a day, the precise planning of everything in my life down to the exact hour, the alarms going off in the middle of the night so that I'm reminded to shift my position…" The list went on. Sure, Sebastian had been living with them for some time now, but it wasn't like they'd shared a room. He'd learned a lot about what life was like for a paraplegic, but there was still plenty that he didn't know. Artie would have preferred to have kept it that way. Introducing Sebastian to this side of his life was nothing short of mortifying. "That's really why I was hesitant about having him staying down here. Now he's gonna know everything."

Artie could feel unwanted tears forming as they pricked his eyes. His gaze was still on the spinning ceiling fan, not trusting his ability to look at his mom without all of the emotion spilling out.

"Look at me, Artie," Nancy pleaded with him softly. Artie wavered for a moment before glancing her way, the first rogue tear trailing down his cheek. "Sebastian's a member of our family. He understands that your lives differ from each other's, but that doesn't change you in his eyes. He loves you just the way you are. If the roles were reversed, would you look at him any differently?"

"No," Artie sniffled. "But I'm not Sebastian Smythe."

"That's not fair, Artie," Nancy told him, shaking her head. "I don't think you're giving him enough credit. You don't have anything to be embarrassed about. Do you hear me? Just because your day may be a little different from someone else's–"

"Everyone else's."

"That doesn't mean that your life is somehow any less valuable or less worthy of living. I know you know that."

It was true, he did know that. Artie tried not to make a habit of pitying himself. He knew where that way of thinking got him and what a waste of time it was. He experienced days like these a couple of times a year, so he knew better than to fight the big emotions that came with them. At the end of the day, though, he loved his life. Or, he tried his best to love it, anyway. He was grateful to still be here to enjoy it– especially because he knew how close he'd been to not having a life to live at all.

Artie heard the running water shut off then, alerting the pair to the fact that they only had a few more minutes to wrap up their conversation in private before they'd be interrupted.

"You should be proud of how much you've gone through to get to where you are today," Nancy told him. "But if you wake up tomorrow and still feel this way, I'm sure we can try to find a way for Sebastian to move back upstairs…"

Artie shook his head, sniffling as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. What had already happened was done anyway. "No, Mom, it's okay. He can stay. And I'm sorry for causing a scene and worrying you like that. I am proud. Promise."

"Good, honey. I'm glad."

The door to Artie's bathroom opened, and Sebastian and his crutches reappeared, commanding the attention of both Artie and Nancy.

"How'd you manage in there?" Nancy asked her step-son with a smile as she continued to stretch Artie's leg. Surely Sebastian had bore witness to this routine at least once before, but Artie knew that the ritual could still kind of be unusual if you weren't all that accustomed to it. Artie tried to ignore the curious glance Sebastian flashed his way. "Everything go okay?"

"You know, I thought it'd be easier to shower sitting down," Sebastian marveled, tossing his crutches to the floor before flopping on his back onto Artie's pull-out futon. "But it wasn't. Not really, anyway. You've got to always be aware of your balance and stuff, which isn't the easiest thing to do with an injured foot. I guess I didn't really consider that before. Respect to you, dude."

Sebastian held his fist out for Artie to bump just as Nancy set Artie's left leg back on the bed. Artie briefly stared at Sebastian's hand before hesitantly tapping their knuckles. Artie's mom helped him to pull back his covers and meticulously placed pillows around the parts of his body that were prone to pressure, such as his knees and hips. She leaned down to kiss his forehead and gave his hand a squeeze. Artie knew that extra squeeze was leftover from the conversation they'd finished before Sebastian had come back into the room.

After getting Artie settled, Nancy moved on to Sebastian. As she'd done for Artie, Nancy ensured that Seb's foot was also properly supported by copious pillows to ensure his comfort as he slept. Between the two of them, it was a miracle that there were any pillows left in the house. Nancy stooped down to plant a kiss on his forehead as well.

"Goodnight, my boys," she said, standing back and surveying the both of them. Artie would bet that they looked kind of silly, grown teenagers all tucked in like toddlers.

As soon as Nancy had closed the door behind her, Sebastian pulled out his phone and Artie could hear the sound of him calling somebody on FaceTime.

"Who are you calling?" Artie wondered, straining his neck to try to get a glimpse of Sebastian's screen. A moment later, Sam's smiling face appeared.

"Hey!" Their blonde friend answered. He was shirtless and it appeared that he was in the middle of brushing his teeth. "What's going on?"

"I broke my foot is what's going on," Sebastian complained.

"What?!"

"Well, fractured," Sebastian explained. "I slipped on the pool deck. It hurt like a bitch, and Artie here–" (Sebastian panned his camera so that Sam could see Artie too, who gave his friend a little wave.) "–rushed me over to urgent care where I was under the care of a very attractive and gluteally-blessed doctor who told me I have to stay off of it for the weekend. Will you tell Mr. Sanderson for me when you go in tomorrow? I texted him, but I don't really think he's of the 'texting' generation…"

"Yeah, sure, man. I can do that," Sam replied before asking, "Hey, what's this sleeping arrangement y'all've got going on? Are y'all in Artie's room?"

"He's staying here so that he doesn't have to climb the stairs. And so that he can use my bathroom," Artie answered. "Looks like we're forming our own crip club."

"Right on," Sam grinned. "Sleepover-style, I like it. Maybe I can join in sometime."

"You'll have to maim yourself first," Sebastian told him in a way that was certainly not very politically correct, but also very hilarious. "It's a very exclusive membership to acquire. I hear the waiting list of being invited to spend the night in Artie's is super long…"

They all laughed at that, and Sebastian thanked Sam again before they said their goodbyes.

"Thanks again for letting me crash here," Sebastian said with a yawn as he set his phone down for the night. "It'll only be for a few nights. The moment I get the all-clear to ditch these crutches, you can evict me."

"That's okay," Artie told him. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you need."

He felt more than a little bit guilty for the way that his earlier reaction had made his freshly-injured brother feel like an unwelcome intruder. Artie intended on changing his attitude in the coming days. Artie leaned over and turned off the lamp on his bedside table.

"Goodnight, Sebastian. See you tomorrow."

"'night, Art."

They were quiet in the darkness for a moment before Artie spoke up, breaking the silence.

"And, you know, if whatever they gave you wears off and your foot starts hurting again, there are loads of pain meds in the bathroom– in the bottom drawer to the left of the sink. Help yourself. Just make sure you're reading the labels."

"I thought you didn't want me to snoop through your things."

"Well, I don't, but if you need to, I suppose you can."

Silence again.

"Just… only that drawer, okay?" Artie reminded him. "Third one down on the left."

"Goodnight, Artie," Sebastian repeated, clearly overtired and not willing to listen to his step-brother ramble on any longer.

"Goodnight."