AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you so much to those who have been consistently reviewing this story! I appreciate all of you! Guest reviewer August– if you are reading this, I can't PM you to thank you for your support, but if you ever have an idea for this story that you'd like to see me write out, please message me!

Chapter 22: Roommates

SEBASTIAN

The next morning, Sebastian was awoken by the sound of whispering.

"Keep your voice down, he's asleep!"

"My voice is down! I just wanted to see how he was doing."

"I'll text you when he wakes up. You have to leave for work!"

Seb tried to ignore the talking for as long as he could, but eventually, it became unbearable. He attempted to roll over and groaned as his whole body ached in response. He pried his eyes open and was momentarily confused about his whereabouts before the events of the previous night came rushing back to him. Wait, where am I? Is this Artie's room? Ouch! Oh, crap.

"Oh, hey, check it out. He's awake, see?" Griffin said, pointing over at him as Sebastian rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes.

"Morning," Artie greeted him in a voice that– to Sebastian– seemed far too cheery for this time of day. He was already dressed for the day in jeans and a tucked-in polo shirt, and it seemed like he had been in the middle of making his bed when Griffin had come in and interrupted him. Artie returned to this task now, pulling the top sheet and the comforter so tightly that it could have passed an Army bed check inspection. "How's your foot?"

"Hurts," Sebastian replied, pulling back his blanket so that they could have a look. Griffin peered over, and Artie came as close as he could manage, given that Sebastian's current sleeping arrangement didn't leave him with much room to get around. The three boys took a childlike peek at Sebastian's swollen foot, which had now started to bruise, making it deep blue and purple in color.

"Grody," Griffin commented, a wicked smile spreading across his face at the sight of Seb's discolored appendage.

"Here, take some of these," Artie recommended, shaking out the correct dosage from an orange prescription bottle and handing him the glass of water from his bedside table. "It should help with the pain for a while. I'd make sure to eat soon, though, if I were you. That's the strong stuff, so nausea is a side effect. You should be set until, like, dinnertime before you need another dose."

Artie seemed to know what he was doing, and seeing as though Sebastian's mind was hardly awake yet, he didn't question him. Seb set the pills on his tongue and washed them down with water before making a face that displayed his discomfort. "Thanks."

"Do you feel better than last night? Or worse?" Griffin wondered. He was wearing khakis and a white collared dress shirt– what he typically wore to his internship at the firm– so Sebastian guessed that he was about to leave for the day.

"I don't know. The same, probably."

All Seb wanted to do was go back to sleep, but the universe seemed intent on not allowing that to happen. While Griff and Artie were accustomed to starting their days at the ungodly hour of seven o'clock in the morning, it was still much too early by Sebastian's standards, and he didn't get much sleep last night. Between his foot throbbing and the lumpy mattress of the pull-out futon he was sleeping on, he'd found getting comfortable to be a nearly impossible feat. He knew better to complain, though. Sebastian got the sense that Artie wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of having a temporary roommate, so Seb didn't want to bite the hand that was feeding him.

There was a soft knock at the door just then, and the boys' heads turned to find Nancy standing in Artie's doorway.

"Oh, good, you're both up," she said, addressing Artie and Sebastian. "I just wanted to check in on our patient before I left for work. How are you feeling?"

That was the third time Sebastian had been presented with that question so far, and he'd only been awake for five minutes. How much longer was everyone planning to ask him that?! He was already becoming annoyed by it.

"I'm considering taking a sick day today," she confessed. "I'm worried about leaving the two of you here on your own. I want to be close by in case anything comes up."

"No, don't do that," Sebastian told her. "Really, I'm good. A little achy and sore, but otherwise fine. No need to worry about me. Nurse Artie over here is taking good care of me." He glanced in Artie's direction and found that he wasn't a fan of the new moniker Sebastian had just given him.

Seb appreciated the way that his step-mother worried about him like he was her flesh and blood, but it really wasn't necessary. Not this time, at least. This whole situation was beginning to make Sebastian feel very awkward. He wasn't used to having everyone's attention on him in a concerned, affectionate way. Having gone without a mother figure for over half of his life, having someone like Nancy doting on him now was almost unfamiliar. His father had always been a little emotionally distant. He wasn't the kind to call out of work if Sebastian had woken up with a stomach ache. That was what the nanny was for.

"You feeling better today, sport?" Harrison asked, sticking his head into Artie's room.

There's that question again.

"Marginally," was Sebastian's unenthused response.

"I don't have any real plans," Artie reminded his mom. "I mean, I'm just going to tweak my college essay a little bit. But I'll be around. The doctor told him to just take it easy today so we won't be getting into any trouble, and I'll be here if he needs anything. Go to work. We'll see you tonight."

"Okay," Nancy nodded, cupping her biological son's face and giving him a kiss, before coming around the other side of the bed and kissing Sebastian's forehead too. "But don't hesitate to call if you need us. C'mon then, Griff. We don't want to be stuck in more than just the usual rush hour traffic."

There's no sense in going back to sleep now, Sebastian thought to himself, even as the pain in his foot had dulled to a manageable level. I might as well start my damn day at this point. He fastened the Velcro straps of his boot before rising, placing his metal crutches under his arms.

"Careful," Artie warned, watching him like a hawk. "Watch your step."

"I know, I know," Sebastian snapped, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, Artie, okay? Just, please, back off."

"Okay," Artie replied calmly, pressing his lips together into a tight line and nodding as he placed his hands on his wheels and rolled back a pace. "I'll give you space. The bathroom's all yours. I'm gonna go make breakfast."

With that, Artie went off to the kitchen, and Sebastian felt a little bit bad for reacting the way he had. All of the attention (and lack of sleep) was bringing out the worst in him. He recognized that Artie was only trying to see that he didn't injure himself further, but Sebastian wasn't able to find it within him to be appreciative of this fact. At least, not outwardly.

Sebastian had yet to master the art of gracefulness while using his crutches, and attempting to go through the motions of his morning routine on one foot was just one inconvenience after another. The night before, he'd noticed that the toilet was higher than one in a typical bathroom, but everything else– counter, sink, mirror, handheld showerhead– was lower.

First up was trying to figure out how to pee. Sebastian hadn't expected this to be difficult until he actually got around to attempting it. Then, there was maintaining his balance while using one arm to brush his teeth. And how was he supposed to adequately bend down to wash his face in Artie's already-lower-than-usual sink? He was going to have to accept trial and error into his daily life for the time being, which was an annoying accommodation to make.

Sebastian's lame foot and crutches prohibited him from doing plenty of things that he didn't typically spare a second thought. So far, he'd only spent one morning in this state, and he couldn't even do that without complaining. And the bedroom and bathroom he had been using were already modified to be as accessible as possible. Sebastian quickly learned from this brief real-life experience that 'accessible' didn't necessarily mean perfect. Struggling was a part of the game, he'd found.

Sebastian now understood why it always took Artie a while to get ready. Every task that he'd never thought twice about was now a million times more difficult, and it frustrated him. Sebastian was sure that he'd never take his ease of movement for granted again, once he got back on his own two feet.

He entered the kitchen to find that Artie had prepared them both a breakfast consisting of toasted Eggo waffles and sliced-up fruit. Most of the time, Sebastian knew that he could count on Artie for a fresh, gourmet meal, but not always. It didn't look like today was going to be one of those days.

Sebastian took a seat at the kitchen island and Artie wordlessly passed him his plate before situating himself across the room at the kitchen table, which was at a more convenient height for him. He seemed very committed to giving Sebastian the space he'd asked for, which only caused Sebastian to feel worse for the juvenile way he'd acted. The silent treatment coming from Artie made Sebastian squirm.

"Sorry for snapping at you earlier," Sebastian mumbled, moving the cut-up pieces of his waffle around on his plate with his fork and not looking up to meet Artie's eyes. Apologizing when he knew he was in the wrong was a new phenomenon he was trying out. The Sebastian of last year would never have done such a thing, no matter how wrong he knew he was. This was growth, he guessed. "I'm just… already fed up with everyone babying me because of this and acting like I can't do things for myself. I didn't mean to take it out on you, okay? So, I'm sorry."

"Welcome to the last ten or so years of my life," Artie quipped with a shrug. "I know what it's like to feel isolated and othered, while also being the subject of your well-meaning, but overbearing, friends and family members' rapt attention."

Sebastian paused before finishing the bite he was chewing, swallowing it as his word choice settled in. "I know," he said, finally, before backtracking. "I'm sorry. You, of all people, know what this is like. I shouldn't be complaining. I know this is only temporary and I'm only getting a little taste of what you've gone through, and I–"

"No, no, complain away," Artie cut him off, surprising him by chuckling in a slightly self-deprecating way. "You're right. I do know what it's like. And it sucks. Especially all of the 'taking it easy'. I was bedridden for weeks, back when I was eight, so believe me when I say that I know how shitty these times are for you. And I'm sorry that it came to this."

When Sebastian finally looked up from his breakfast and allowed himself to meet Artie's eyes, he was relieved to find that the expression on Artie's face was one of sympathy. Sebastian knew that Artie wasn't the kind to hold any sort of hostility against him for the way he'd acted earlier, but it still eased a weight off of his heart.

"You know, for whatever it's worth, I completely underestimated how hard it would be to get ready on only one foot," Sebastian told him. "I commend you for doing that every day. I don't think I could."

"Yeah?" Artie raised a single eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by what Sebastian had meant to be a compliment. "Well, maybe tomorrow you can try getting ready without any feet at all! That's the real Artie experience."

"Don't get ahead of yourself now, Abrams."

With the ice broken and the tension gone between them, the boys retreated to Artie's room after finishing their breakfast. That was the most comfortable place for both of them then– Artie could comfortably get out of his chair and sit on his bed if he wanted to, and Seb could lay out on the futon and elevate his foot.

"You know what always makes me feel better when I'm sick or have to spend a day taking it easy?" Artie asked.

"Gin and juice?" Sebastian guessed, only half-joking.

"Um… no," Artie replied, shaking his head. "Watching an old, nostalgic movie. You know, Singin' in the Rain, Meet Me in St. Louis, An American in Paris…"

Sebastian shrugged. "Never seen 'em."

Artie gasped, his mouth agape. "None of them?"

"Nope."

"Well, we have to educate you on some of the classics at some point," Artie insisted. "I'm going to finalize some of my applications, but I've seen each of those a million times. I don't mind some background noise while I work if you want to have a look through my DVD collection."

Sebastian did just that, ambling on his crutches over to the built-in bookcases that lined the far wall of Artie's room, where one full shelf was dedicated to his extensive collection of movies. His movies were sorted chronologically, and he seemed to own everything from French New Wave films from the fifties, to the latest Fast & Furious movie. Drawn to the more modern selections, one particular movie from the eighties caught his eye.

"How about Footloose?"

"Good choice," Artie praised him, which– to Sebastian– felt like a massive compliment since it came from such a film buff like him.

As Artie got the movie set up, Sebastian settled himself onto his makeshift bed. After the events of that morning, he was consciously trying to keep his complaints to a minimum. He knew his situation was only temporary and that there was no sense in wasting his breath complaining about it. He just needed to keep himself from going stir-crazy by staying one step ahead of his boredom. Watching a movie was a good place to start.

The opening credits rolled and Sebastian immediately recognized the iconic, upbeat song playing in the background.

"I've always loved this opening sequence," Artie commented, looking up from his current project. He'd transferred from his chair and was sitting atop his bed, surrounded by papers, manila envelopes, paper clips, and his laptop. He'd formed his own makeshift application workstation, but even that wasn't enough to keep his attention from straying to the television screen. He was completely mesmerized. "The camera focuses on just the different feet as they dance their unique moves. And the title song playing in the background! It's so simple, but also genius. As a director, that's, like, the perfect combination. You want your choices to seem effortless to the audience. Achieving that is harder than it looks."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Sebastian reminded him. Even the looming threat of applying to film school couldn't keep Artie's (mostly distracting) directorial comments at bay. Then a new question popped into Sebastian's mind. "Hey, where are you even applying to anyway? I know about the Brooklyn Film Academy and Ohio State, but where else?"

"NYU and Emerson on the east coast, and then USC, UCLA, and Cal Arts on the west coast," Artie replied, shuffling through the papers he had out in front of him. "But I still think I should find another safety school that's closer to home, just in case. I was thinking maybe Michigan since they have an excellent theatre and film program, but I know Griff would kill me. Their rivalry with Ohio State and all…"

"And you said that your essay is almost done?" Sebastian asked. Artie nodded. "What's it about?"

"Glee Club," Artie sheepishly answered. "Well, more about me being the only disabled member, and how that experience has shaped me into the person I am today. But… yeah. Kind of lame, I know."

Sebastian shrugged. Yeah, it was kind of cheesy, but that didn't make it a bad idea.

"You know, maybe you should start thinking about what you want to write your essay on. And… and where you want to apply," Artie gently suggested.

"I'll probably just go to Princeton, like my dad," Sebastian told him, shrugging. He'd never given college much thought. His dad had gone to Princeton, as had his grandfather, so Sebastian expected that to be in the cards for him, too. Sebastian knew his grades were pretty good. He assumed he'd be able to get in there pretty easily– thanks to his legacy status, if nothing else.

"Don't you have Warbler Camp coming up in a few weeks? Isn't that, like, the official end of summer for you guys?" Artie asked. "That's what Blaine said, at least. If your mind is set on Princeton, I would try to get started on the application before the craziness of senior year takes its toll on you. The deadline for early decision is just after Halloween…"

Sebastian shrugged again. He knew he was being pretty lax about all of this college stuff, especially compared to Artie, who was so type-A. While he appreciated his brother's concern, the truth was that Seb didn't want to think about college yet… because he didn't even know where he was finishing high school.

His uncertainty about graduating from Dalton Academy would surely come as a shock to everyone in his life. Sebastian loved Dalton, and he always had. His friends, The Warblers, his lacrosse team, the brotherhood, prestige, and connections that a diploma from a school as renowned as Dalton would bring him… those were all reasons to stay. But over the last few months, he'd grown so close to Artie and some of the McKinley kids that it was hard to imagine not being around them all the time. He could almost feel himself developing some sort of weird, unforeseen separation anxiety about being apart from Artie. All he would have to do is say the word, and the parents would allow him to transfer from Dalton to McKinley, but something inside was stopping him. It was a big change for Sebastian to voluntarily make– especially when he'd once claimed that he couldn't stand the stench of public schools…

Seb's thoughts were cut short by Artie, who was now verbally stressing about the application he was currently working on.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"Something's missing."

"Well, it wasn't me," Sebastian rushed to defend himself from any accusation Artie was about to pin on him. "I swear. I haven't touched any of that stuff."

"No, no, not physically missing," Artie clarified. "Metaphorically missing. I think I need another project to include in my portfolio that will give me an edge over the other applicants." He ran his fingers through his hair and began chewing on his lower lip anxiously. "My experimental short film, Rags the Homeless Clown, and the New Directions holiday special I directed last year are great, but I need more."

"Oh." Sebastian did not feel that this was quite the urgent matter that Artie was making it out to be.

"I need something real, something feel-good, and thought-provoking, and-and creative," his step-brother continued to fret, becoming more and more unsettled by the moment. "Not-not just… a silent film I shot of myself covered in paint over the course of a single afternoon and something that was only seen by the Lima residents without cable! Something's missing! But I'm running out of time!"

Artie's breathing was shallow and quick now, and his hyperventilating was beginning to stress Sebastian out.

"Whoa, whoa, dude. Relax. Do you even hear yourself right now?" Sebastian asked, sitting up on the futon and reaching out to put a hand on Artie's shoulder. "Take a breath. What do you need? Let's talk it through. Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Artie asked, slumping against his headboard and covering his face with the palms of his hands.

"Going to film school. What inspired you to do that? Why is this your dream?"

"I've had lots of dreams," Artie reasoned. Sebastian could tell that Artie didn't really understand the reasoning behind his questions just yet, but he resolved to answer them anyway. "Baseball player, Olympic gymnast, dancer…"

"Dancer?" Sebastian repeated curiously. He'd never heard Artie talk about that particular dream before.

"It was a short-lived pipe dream," Artie confessed, dismissing the idea rather quickly and giving Sebastian the impression that there were some painful memories there. For that reason, he didn't press any further. "I guess everything I loved first had to do with athleticism. I think I was just drawn to the movement of it all. The artistry and grace. And once I got to high school, I found directing. I could bring my ideas for that kind of stuff to life and watch it all play out in front of me. That was satisfying, to scratch an itch I hadn't realized was there."

Sebastian was nodding, showing his understanding, but Artie wasn't done.

"My mom always says that I've been making movies since I was a kid. I guess I used to steal my dad's camera and film my siblings or my action figures and stuff," Artie said. "My dad is big into movies, so I used to watch them all the time with him. That's where I first got the passion for it. Because everybody loves movies, you know? They don't just tell stories… they transport us to other worlds. They provide comfort, and they help us escape from our day-to-day anxieties. It's about… performance, it's about theatricality, it's about the language of cinema."

"Alright," said Sebastian. His brother was clearly bursting at the seams with passion for his craft. It was pretty admirable– Sebastian couldn't think of anything in his life he felt that strongly about. "So why don't you find a way to convey that to the old guys that are going to be looking over your application? How do you think you can combine those passions of yours and the creative way that you see the world and make it into something worth remembering?"

Artie sat there for a moment, seemingly stumped by Sebastian's inquisitive question. As he allowed Artie time to think, Sebastian returned his focus to the television. He'd missed a lot of the beginning of the movie so far, between discussing college stuff and just off in his own world daydreaming, but he tuned back in just as Kevin Bacon's character Ren's big dance number in the warehouse was starting. This surely got Seb's attention. Between the unbridled passion Ren had for dance and the cool gymnastics tricks throughout the scene, he allowed himself to be fully enraptured by what he was watching, momentarily forgetting all about Artie's current predicament.

However, a sudden gasp from Artie snapped Sebastian back into reality.

It was like a lightbulb had gone off in the other guy's mind as the great idea that he was chasing seemed to dawn on him. He shoved his papers and laptop to the side, hurriedly transferring into his chair, barely taking the time to situate and adjust himself in his seat before sending himself careening across his bedroom with just two big, forceful pushes on his wheels. Artie nearly slammed into his desk as he tried to pull himself up to it, desperately reaching for a pencil and a spiral-bound notebook.

"Hey, whoa, slow down, Hot Wheels," Sebastian warned, taken aback by the sudden change in Artie's demeanor. Artie was so hyper-focused on whatever was on his mind that he didn't even admonish Sebastian for using that nickname he hated so much. "What's going on?"

"I need to write this down before I forget it!" Artie exclaimed, out of breath as he furiously began scribbling on the first blank page he could find. "I have an idea. I think it's creative enough for me to stand out against the other hopefuls, but it's still real and accessible enough to be enjoyed by those who aren't as immersed in this world."

"And what world is that?"

"Cinema. It'll be a tribute of sorts. To dance on film. And I want you and all of my friends to be a part of it."