Chapter 25: Emotional Support

ARTIE

Artie had just transferred from his chair into the driver's seat of his car when he heard his phone alert him of an incoming text message. Before beginning the process of dismantling his chair and stowing its parts in the backseat, Artie took a moment to glance at his phone.

Thx again for helping me yesterday, the text message from Sebastian read. This stool is awesome. I'm gonna try to keep it even after I'm healed.

Artie chuckled at that and rolled his eyes playfully before shooting Sebastian a quick response: Haha good luck w/ that. Glad it's working out.

Returning to the task at hand, he popped one wheel off of the chair's frame and then another before setting them in the backseat. As he did this, Artie was thinking about how glad he was that he could do something small to help out Sebastian. The last decade had consisted of plenty of people doing things like that to accommodate Artie, and he was glad he could finally return the favor. He'd seen what a positive difference work had made on his step-brother over the last few weeks, and he didn't want to see this get taken away from him.

After hauling his chair's heavy frame over his body and setting it in the back, Artie buckled his seatbelt and pulled out of the garage. He couldn't afford to be late today, for today was the day he was to be reunited with Quinn after a long weekend spent apart.

They'd texted throughout her trip, of course, and they'd talked on the phone on Saturday. Other than that, though, Artie had tried not to be too clingy, no matter how much he was missing her. As someone with divorced parents, he knew how important the time spent with each parent was, especially if there is one parent you don't get to see very often.

Quinn had been a little anxious leading up to this visit, he recalled, and he'd gotten the sense that she was keeping something from him on their call. Or, at least, putting up a façade that the trip was going better than it really was. Now that he was getting ready to see her face-to-face again, though, Artie was looking forward to finding out the details she hadn't shared over the phone.

He was also excited to share with her about the project he'd spent his weekend working on. He supposed that he'd been hiding some news from her on their call as well. He wanted to tell her about his vision– and the starring role he'd written especially for her– in person, where he could present her with her copy of the script and get her feedback.

They'd arranged for him to pick her up at two o'clock, and then they'd spend the rest of the day together, and Artie could hardly wait. However, his excitement was nearly dashed just minutes after she opened the passenger door of his car.

"Quinn!" he greeted her with even more enthusiasm than usual, if that could somehow be achieved. "I missed you!"

Quinn's idea of responding to his greeting was a rather forward and physical one. Immediately after shutting the door behind her, she leaned over the car's center console and, placing her right hand on his cheek, kissed him with all of the passion of hormone-crazed teenagers who'd spent the last few days apart.

"Whoa," Artie commented when she pulled away eventually, his eyes widening as he mindlessly brushed his fingers over his lips where her touch still lingered. "Guess you missed me too, then?"

"You could say that," she replied, as she turned away from him to buckle her seatbelt.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," Artie told her, putting the car in reverse and backing out of her driveway. "Are you hungry? I was thinking you could pick someplace and we could go on a little lunch date and unpack our weekends. I mean, we were only apart for four days, but I still feel like we have so much to catch one another up on…"

When they reached the stop sign at the end of her street, he glanced over at Quinn and stopped short of continuing his ramble when he noticed that something seemed a little bit off about her stoic expression.

The girl beside him wasn't his typically cheerful girlfriend who had once told him while pandering for his vote for prom queen that 'prom queens live, on average, five years longer than regular people because they smile a lot'. She hadn't needed to sway him to vote in her favor, of course, but her initial point still rang true: prom queens smile a lot, and so does Quinn Fabray. Except she wasn't radiating one of her captivating smiles now. Something– or someone– had upset her. "Hey… you've been crying."

"Oh, great, you noticed," she mumbled, pulling down the passenger side sun visor and staring at her reflection in the small vanity mirror, rubbing her thumbs under her eyes, looking to get rid of any remnants of smudged mascara that remained. "I spent ten minutes before you got here splashing cold water on my face trying to get the redness to go away. I guess it didn't work, though."

"Of course I noticed," Artie replied gently. "Not-not because you look a certain way, I just… I notice everything about you. Are… are you okay?"

"Not really," she confessed, closing the visor and returning it to its usual folded-up position. "The time spent with my dad was long. And hard. I practically cried the whole drive back from Cincinnati today." She rolled her eyes, frustrated with herself. "I wanted to pack my stupid emotions away and fix myself up before you came. Put it all behind me and just enjoy spending time with you, especially after I already spent so much of the weekend dwelling on it."

So she had been hiding something. He wasn't all that concerned about that, though. His concern lay in seeing his girlfriend so upset.

"Quinn, you know that you don't have to think that way, right?" Artie urged her. He had yet to move from that stop sign, but, luckily, nobody had pulled up behind him just yet. He reached out and squeezed her hand– something he wouldn't have been able to do while driving, since both of his hands were needed to operate the car's hand controls. "I'm glad you told me. I want to be there for you in any way that I can."

Artie rarely saw Quinn in a funk like this. In a split second, he redirected his focus. His girlfriend clearly needed his support right now, and even though he'd been so excited to tell her all about his short film idea, he was putting that on the back burner. Now, his only priority was making Quinn feel better, which began with amending his plans for their afternoon.

"Are you okay if we go back to my place?" Artie asked. "I know I can't fix everything that's wrong, but I have something in mind that may help you feel at least a little bit better."

Back to the Abrams-Smythe residence they went, and Artie decided that some comfort food and a romcom were in order. It wasn't anything fancy, but he whipped them up a quick lunch consisting of grilled cheese and tomato soup before they retreated to Artie's room. He gave her complete control of the movie selection– something he was sure she knew was a way that he showed someone how much they meant to him. After all, he didn't give up his cinematic control to just anyone. Once her choice of Easy A was playing on the television and he'd situated himself atop his bed, Quinn wasted no time before cuddling up to his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close, looking to satisfy her desire for physical comfort that– though unspoken– he could sense so easily.

They watched the movie in silence for a while as Artie mindlessly stroked her hair. After about a half hour, he started to suspect that maybe she'd fallen asleep. He couldn't tell, though, because her head was resting on his chest and her face was turned away from him. Any sudden movement of his would cause her to stir, so he remained as still as possible, allowing his girlfriend to have a safe space to let her guard down after an undoubtedly emotionally taxing weekend. Artie was still curious about what all had happened, but he knew better than to ask. Quinn would open up to him when she was ready.

A little way through the movie, she did just that.

"Thank you, Artie," she said softly, glancing up at him with her big green eyes.

"You're welcome," Artie replied, a bit mystified. "But, um, for what?"

"For just… being the best boyfriend ever," she told him, and Artie immediately felt his face heat up. "This weekend with my dad was… terrible. I've hardly seen him for longer than a few hours at a time in two years, and living with him for a few days was just as awful as I remembered. I'm so stupid for thinking that he'd changed."

"You're not stupid, Quinn," said Artie firmly. "You're one of the smartest people I know. And I'm not just saying that." Was he sad for her? Angry? Artie couldn't identify the emotions swarming inside of him. "And… I know it's easier said than done, but try not to blame yourself for your dad's actions, okay? You're so much better than he is."

"Well, thanks, for saying that," she replied before nuzzling her face back against the soft blue fabric of his polo shirt, breaking their eye contact. "I didn't feel that way this weekend. The way he spoke to me and about me…" She sighed, defeated. "All this time has passed and he still sees me as the black sheep of his family instead of as his daughter. As… his Quinnie."

Her voice cracked and his heart broke.

"You are not a reflection of your dad," he told her.

He didn't know what else to say. How could you make somebody see themselves the way you do, when they've spent so long beating themselves up for not being perfect for somebody else? Artie had been on the other side of this equation enough times to know that sometimes there was nothing you could say to help. That person needed to figure it out for themselves, and that was the worst part.

"I just… don't know why he invited me to spend the weekend in Cincy with him and his new whatever-she-is Linda if he was going to treat me that way. And I don't know why I went. I guess I thought things had been better lately, since I'd only been seeing him in small increments, like at my graduation party. I thought maybe he'd formed some sense of remorse for abandoning me the first time. But I guess not."

Quinn lifted her head and moved it to Artie's shoulder as she placed her hand on his chest where her head had been. She began tracing circles on the fabric of his shirt with her index finger. She didn't know how much that small sensation drove him crazy.

"I know I probably sound crazy when I say this," she continued. "But I don't regret any of what's happened. Sure, sleeping with Puck– and trusting him when he said he'd 'take care of' protection– was a mistake, but it resulted in a miracle. Beth. I don't feel an ounce of regret about bringing her into this world. Whenever I see Shelby, or whenever she sends me photos of her, I can't help but be… proud?"

"Your life is your life, it's nobody else's," Artie reminded her. "I know it feels like everyone else's opinions matter so much, but nobody's matters more than your own." At the risk of sounding like his mother, he added: "You should be proud of all you've gone through."

As he said this, Artie was actively willing himself to ignore the way Quinn was still brushing her fingers over the sensitive skin on his chest. He hadn't exactly had a reason to have that conversation with her yet, so he just hoped his body wouldn't betray him by having some sort of inappropriate reaction to the movement during their 'deep' conversation. This wasn't the moment he wanted to explain all of that.

"I know that my dad is still embarrassed of me and my past. My mom and my sister, too, even if they don't say so as often. I just didn't expect that what I did when I was sixteen would affect my relationships with them forever." She shook her head in disbelief. "My mistake, which by some accounts 'ruined' my life, completed somebody else's. Shelby gets the chance to be a mom. How could I feel remorse about something that ended up so good? How selfish would that be? Why can't my family see that?"

Artie didn't know what to say. She was right, but no matter how many years pass, she and her family probably wouldn't ever see eye-to-eye on this. "Sometimes… you just need to accept that there will be some people that expect something from you that you can't give them."

His mind immediately flickered to the memory he'd briefly recalled for Sam a few days ago during their conversation at the playground. It was a particular moment that he hadn't revisited in years, but it had remained on his mind all weekend.

"You know," he said. "I was talking to Sam the other day, and the, uh, 'Dream a Little Dream' performance from Glee Club came up. Do you remember that one?"

Quinn glanced over at him cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed together as she was clearly wondering what on God's Earth had prompted him to revisit that memory. Nevertheless, she nodded.

"I remember struggling to keep my composure throughout the whole song," he said. "I was trying to avoid watching Tina dance with Mike out of the corner of my eye. I was trying to keep it together, and I did a fine job of that. But then the song ended…"

Once the music died down, the others picked up their stools and filtered out of the auditorium, eager to get their weekend started. But Artie was frozen in place, repeatedly attempting to swallow the painful lump in his throat. Singing 'Dream a Little Dream of Me' as Tina and Mike tap danced was harder than he'd expected it to be. He spent the number fighting back tears, hoping that nobody noticed. There was at least one person who had seen right through him, though.

During a particularly emotional part of the song, Quinn had reached out, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Just that small gesture was enough to cause his voice to crack slightly as he leaned into her touch. To know that somebody saw him in that moment. That somebody cared.

Quinn had stayed put behind him on her stool while their friends wandered off in different directions. Artie was taking deep breaths, trying to keep his emotions in check to not embarrass himself– a task that was proving to be more difficult by the second.

"Artie…?" Her voice gently broke the silence between the two of them. "Are… are you okay?"

Artie sniffled and wiped his wet eyes on the sleeve of his light blue shirt. He bravely shook his head before pivoting his chair so that he was facing her. She'd straightened her long blonde hair that day, and she tucked a loose strand of it behind her ear before resting her hands on her growing baby bump. Her green eyes were full of concern.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she wondered. "Were… were you supposed to be the one dancing that number with her? I mean, Tina is your girlfriend, after all."

Quinn was perceptive. Maybe too perceptive. She and Artie were friends, yes, and had been for a while. But aside from practicing their ballad, and the few times they'd met up to study for history, they hadn't hung out alone at all– definitely not in a situation where either of them got at all emotionally vulnerable. But she recognized that he needed support just now, and she stepped up. That had to count for something.

Artie nodded, sniffling again. "Tina gave me this stack of papers the other day," he confessed. "She'd done all this research to find treatments and trials for paraplegics like me. I think she thought that I wanted that? But I don't. I just want to be…" What was he doing? Why was he telling everything to Quinn, of all people? It was just going to make her pity him more than she probably already did. He shook his head instead of finishing the sentence. "Nevermind. It's dumb." He unlocked his wheels and prepared to exit stage left. He'd said too much.

"No, Artie, wait," Quinn pleaded, stopping him by reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder again. A second touch from her in a single afternoon threw him off. Most people acted like he could spread terminal cancer through his wheelchair. Aside from his family, almost nobody went out of their way to make physical contact with him like that. It felt good. It made him trust her. "It's okay," she told him again. "Go on. You just want to be what?"

Artie sighed. "Seen. Respected. Appreciated. For who I am. I don't want to have to change." He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "So I told her to find another partner. Someone she can actually dance with. I told you, it's stupid."

Quinn shook her head, leaning over to envelop him in a huge hug. It was a little awkward, with them both sitting on different levels and with a baby bump sandwiched between them. But the gesture was enough to break down the dam that was keeping his tears at bay. Artie was embarrassed to be sobbing into Quinn's shoulder, but once he'd started, he just couldn't stop.

"It's not stupid," she assured him, rubbing his back with her hand comfortingly as they embraced. "You're right. You shouldn't have to change anything about yourself to fit into some girl's idea of her 'perfect boyfriend'. You're you, and that's enough."

Quinn's words were laced with empathy, not pity. Artie could sense the distinction between the two, and it made all the difference.

"I know there isn't anything I can say that will fix this for you, but just know that I'm sorry," she said. "You deserve better, and I pray that you'll always be able to recognize that."

As Artie was retelling the story the way he remembered it, still laying on his back against some pillows, Quinn had sat up and turned around to face him, kneeling in the space beside him on the bed.

"You told me once that I didn't need to conform to become something other people wanted for me," Artie told her. "Hearing that it was okay to just be myself and that that would be enough for the right person… hearing that from you… I can't express how much it meant– still means– to me. And now I get to tell you these same things. Pretty full circle, huh? Life comes at ya fast."

That last line got her to smile, and he did, too.

"How do you always do that?" she wanted to know.

"Do what?"

"Always know the right thing to say."

Artie blushed. "Oh, come on. Nobody thinks that."

"I do."

"Well… I don't know," Artie said honestly. "I just… say what I would want to hear when I'm down, and hope it works."

All Artie really knew, from his many failed attempts with girls, was that you needed to be able to support your partner in their time of need and expect that they'll be there for you, too. If you could master that, maybe everything else would be okay.

Cuddling up to his side and tucking her head beneath his chin, Quinn resumed the position she'd taken up originally. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" he wondered.

"That we've spent the whole afternoon going over every detail of my crappy weekend and I haven't asked about yours once. Some girlfriend I am."

"Oh. That's okay, I didn't mind," Artie told her, all while trying to reign in his excitement. Here was his chance to finally tell Quinn all about what he'd dedicated his weekend to while she was gone.

"Well, as you can see, Seb's been crashing in here, thanks to his foot thing he has going on," Artie began, launching into his recap. "It sucked at first, but I guess I've gotten used to having a roommate. I mean, I only have one more year until college, right? I should probably get used to that sooner rather than later, anyway." Artie couldn't stop himself from word-vomiting all that he'd been waiting three days to share with her. "Anyway, him hanging around down here all the time actually has been good for one thing. You see, he was watching Footloose the other day while I was working on my college apps, and while the movie was playing, I realized that my portfolio was missing something. And, thus, the idea for my newest project was born: Hollywood Hootenanny."

Quinn's eyebrows were raised as she glanced at him now, clearly wondering where to even begin. "Oh, wow, Artie, that's… Hollywood what?"

"Hootenanny," Artie repeated. "It'll be a short film. I spent all weekend brainstorming and writing a script for it. Your copy is over on my desk if you wanna take a look."

She stood up from his bed and retrieved the packet that had a pink sticky note with her name written on it.

"This is so exciting, Artie!" she said as she flipped through the pages and skimmed the words he'd dedicated so much time to putting down on paper. "Are you going to host auditions?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I went ahead and wrote out each of the roles with our friends in mind. I figured that people who are looking to apply to BFA programs next year, like Blaine and Tina– and Kurt, when he reapplies to NYADA next semester– can use clips from this for their demo reels. And, you know, this wouldn't hurt for you to have either. I remember you mentioning once that you plan on auditioning for some student-directed theatre productions at Yale…"

"That's so nice of you, thinking of all of us like that," she told him, continuing to read her copy of the script. "So, it's about dance?"

"It's not about dance, it's a tribute to dance," he corrected her slightly. "You and Sebastian are the leads. Sebastian's foot injury poses some potential problems, but Mike and I are going to put our heads together and work around them, so don't worry about that too much," he quickly assured her. "Your character, Willa, and Sebastian's, James, will move chronologically through the ages– beginning in 1935 with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers' Roberta– and stepping into different movie scenes. In the end, my goal is to highlight the impact dance has had on our culture."

Quinn was nodding along now, clearly seeing his vision, which excited him. She got it.

"I know it's kind of last minute, but rehearsals are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon and all day Wednesday. Just to, you know, block everything out and see if there is anything in the script that doesn't flow," Artie informed her, still talking a mile a minute. "If it were up to me, I'd have a table read, but we're in a bit of a time crunch, which I've taken into consideration. Like, if you turn to scene three, you'll see that the West Side Story scene is the 'America' dance number. I figure we can use some of the sets, choreography, and blocking from last year's musical to save time. Santana, Mercedes, and Finn can handle the leads on that, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Quinn nodded. "That's a great idea, to reuse what you can."

"Thanks," he told her. "I know that this is a big commitment, and I don't want to take advantage of anyone's kindness, so I'm really trying to be conscious of everyone's schedules. I even tried to plan out the shooting days so that not everyone needs to be there all day, every day. I mean, except you and Seb. Sorry about that."

"Don't be silly. You know I don't mind one bit. More time I get to watch you do your thing."

Artie felt himself turning pink, as he always did when anyone complimented him like that, especially Quinn. "Well… the first shoot day is this Thursday. Think you can be off-book by then?"

She smiled and leaned over to peck his lips. "I think that can be achieved. But I would like to get some insight from you as to who Willa is as a character. You know, so that I can understand her better and perform these scenes the way you'd like me to… What do you say, Mr. Director? Want to play Seb's part and do a cold read with me right now and give me some pointers?"