Chapter 50: Brothervention

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian was alone in the Marion Ridge Country Club clubhouse, retying the laces on his white tennis shoes and tightening the black ankle brace he continued to wear on the court. He stretched his quads, pulling his foot back so that his calves touched his hamstrings, holding the stretch for a minute before releasing and repeating it on the other side. Reaching into his gym bag, Seb retrieved his final set of clean white terry cloth sweatbands and pulled them around his wrists.

It had taken the day that Harrison had brought Seb and Griffin to the country club to remind Seb how much he missed playing tennis. It was nothing he couldn't just pick up again, he supposed. With everything on his plate currently– his injury, debating on whether or not to transfer schools, college applications, and his job– Sebastian just wasn't sure if now was really the right time.

But on his way out of the club that day– after their round of golf and lunch at the club restaurant's patio that overlooked the green– there was quite literally a sign sticking out to him. A flyer advertising the Marion Ridge Country Club's annual Junior Club Championship had caught Seb's eye.

As Harrison and Griff continued out to the parking lot, Seb hung back to snap a photo of it. The match was open to members only between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, and the entrance fee was two hundred dollars. It wasn't too late to register. None of that mattered to Sebastian as much as the event date did. The championship was happening on August twenty-second– just fifteen days away.

A normal person as out of practice as Sebastian was would have deemed that to be too soon. But Sebastian, as stubborn as he was once his mind was set on something, had never been one to back away from a challenge– even one others would consider impossible. It would be nice to have an end goal worth training towards, he decided.

So that night when he'd gotten home, Sebastian paid his entrance fee and officially put himself in the running to be Marion Ridge Country Club's 2012 Tennis Junior Club Champion.

It became a bit of a family affair, getting Seb match-ready. It was going to be a lot of hard work over a short period, but his parents and siblings were more than happy to help him out with some training rituals.

His dad continued to coach him, just like he had the day that he'd taken Griff and Seb to the club. Even though Sebastian tended to get irritated by his father's nitpicky critiques, he consciously tried to remain patient, not wanting to bite the hand that was feeding him.

Griffin offered to train with him in the gym, using drills he'd learned from football practice– both sports required having quick feet, after all. Ella became his run buddy, mapping out their routes every morning to build up his endurance.

Nancy helped him strengthen his 'bad' foot using the skills she'd learned as Artie's makeshift home-based physical therapist for over half of his life. After doing her recommended stretches and strengthening exercises for a few weeks, Seb was surprised to find that his foot was feeling close to one hundred percent healed.

And, as for Artie, he was his match partner. The two of them went out onto the tennis courts at McKinley together to practice almost daily. Artie had never played before, but with his fancy sports chair in tow, he was keeping up pretty well. Honestly, Seb was finding that he liked teaching Artie just as much as he liked playing the sport himself. And Artie wasn't half bad– leave it to him to be good at just about anything he'd ever tried. Seb had joked that maybe after they were finished training for this club tournament, they should start training him for the upcoming 2016 Paralympic Games in Rio.

With Seb's shifts at the ice cream place and Warbler Camp, Artie's trip to Connecticut, Ella's pre-season practices, and the parents' and Griffin's work schedules, the family hardly had any time to devote to Seb's newest venture, but somehow, they created some. As the date of the match grew nearer, Sebastian was beginning to feel more prepared than he ever expected to in such a short amount of time. That was in no small part thanks to the efforts of his incredible family.

Their help had gotten him this far: he'd competed in three matches already today– defeating each of his opponents swiftly in straight sets. All day long, Sebastian had been thinking about how good it felt to be back. So far, this tournament was easier than he'd expected, but he wasn't ready to get comfortable. The hardest match still lay ahead.

With one more glance at himself in the mirror of the clubhouse– admiring the way he was outfitted in his crisp tennis whites– Seb nodded to himself and gathered his belongings. Only one person stood in the way of himself and this Junior Club Championship trophy.

Henry Graham.

Henry Graham had been Seb's doubles partner on the club's junior team for years before Sebastian had quit. He was a year younger, but that didn't count for much. Henry had always been good on the court, and his reputation preceded him– he'd won the last two consecutive Marion Ridge Country Club Junior Tennis Championships, and during Artie's thorough pre-match research, he'd found that Henry already had some athletic scholarship offers from a few colleges. One thing was certain: this final competition would be a lot more challenging than the previous matches Sebastian had played. Sebastian hadn't laid eyes on the other guy in years, but he had already proven himself to be a serious competitor.

As Seb made his way out onto the court for the final time that day, he walked out to thunderous applause from one specific area of the bleachers. He'd competed in dozens of matches over the years– plenty of matches as a child, and a handful already today– but this one was different. For the first time in his life, Sebastian looked out into the stands and saw his large blended family there to support him. He didn't even try to suppress a crooked smirk, no matter how embarrassing they were being, loudly cheering him on at a match for a sport that is typically rooted for at the octave of a whisper.

Standing at the edge of the court, Sebastian felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders as he took in the scene before him: the polished courts, the rising tension in the air, and the faces of his family, all vibrant and proud in the stands.

The Junior Club Championship trophy was within reach, but so was something more elusive: the chance to prove to himself that he could still compete– even after an injury and so much time off. Henry, with his effortless talent and all the buzz surrounding his college offers, seemed to embody everything Sebastian had unknowingly let slip through his fingers when he walked away from the game.

As he walked past the baseline, his opponent finally appeared. Henry Graham strolled onto the court with the same air of casual confidence that had earned him his reputation. There was a calm focus to his every movement, his eyes scanning the court as though he'd already visualized every shot, every serve. He offered Sebastian a brief nod, a gesture that spoke volumes about the mutual respect between them, though they hadn't shared a word in years.

Sebastian's grip tightened on his racquet as he met Henry's gaze. He knew this match would be a battle, but it wasn't really about the title. It was about reclaiming something he'd almost forgotten how to fight for.

"Ready?" Henry asked, his voice steady.

Sebastian gave him a curt nod, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flood through his veins. "Born ready."

The umpire called for silence, and with a deep breath, Sebastian took his position, eyes locked on the ball that would soon be served his way. The championship was about to begin, and this time, it was no longer just about winning. It was about showing everyone– especially himself– that he was still the player who could take on any challenge.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the court as Sebastian and Henry took their positions for the final match. The crowd had quieted to an expectant hush, the tension almost palpable in the stillness. Sebastian wiped the sweat from his forehead, his mind whirring as he adjusted his grip on the racquet. His eyes flicked over to his family in the stands. They were there, all of them, looking at him with pride and quiet hope. The feeling in his chest was a strange mix of nerves and determination.

Across the court, Henry stood. He glanced briefly at Sebastian, giving a small, almost imperceptible nod of respect.

Henry– with his usual calm composure– stepped up to serve first. He bounced the ball a few times, his focus locked in on the task at hand. With a deep breath, he tossed the ball up and unleashed a powerful serve that zipped across the net, just clipping the line. Sebastian was lucky and barely had to move to send back a sharp, precise return that had Henry scrambling.

The rally was intense, back and forth, with both players exhibiting their trademark skills. Sebastian was fast, while Henry, on the other hand, was precise, his every shot calculated with military precision. The crowd gasped and cheered with every powerful forehand and lightning-fast backhand.

To Sebastian's delight, it was he who broke through first, with a blistering cross-court forehand that Henry couldn't quite reach in time. Henry's serve was a wall; each time Sebastian tried to return it, Henry seemed to anticipate his moves with uncanny accuracy. It was nothing that Sebastian couldn't handle, though. After a few more points, the set was in Seb's grasp.

With one final serve, he sealed the deal with a clean ace down the T. The first set was his.

It was too early for Sebastian to get overconfident. His movements needed to get sharper and more controlled to keep up his good start. He began mixing up his shots– bluffing with drop shots before smashing a backhand down the sideline, catching Henry off-guard more than once.

But Henry was unshakeable. He adapted to Sebastian's new strategy quickly, tightening his defense. He took the ball early, cutting down the angles and forcing Sebastian to play on the back foot– his bad one. Every time Sebastian thought he had the upper hand, Henry would rip a forehand down the line or send a wicked slice that forced Sebastian to stretch just a little too far.

Henry was a striking figure on the court– tall, lean, and muscular, with an effortless grace that made him look like he was gliding rather than running. His skin was a deep, rich brown, his broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. His movements were fluid, each one deliberate and precise. Sebastian had known him too long to be fooled by Henry's calm, almost aloof demeanor. He noticed the little things; the subtle flex of his jaw when he was deep in concentration, the tiny frown that appeared on his face when he missed a shot he knew he should have made. And for all his precision on the court, there was a quiet confidence that both intimidated and fascinated Seb. Deep down, Sebastian had always harbored a quiet crush on him– something unspoken that had never quite gone away, despite the years. Even now, standing across from him, he couldn't help but admire the way Henry held himself as if the game was his to control.

The set slipped away from Sebastian like sand through his fingers. With a final, well-placed backhand winner that Sebastian couldn't even react to, Henry clinched the second set.

Now, Sebastian was in a hole. The loss had stung, but he was too proud to let it show. He had to dig deep. His body ached, his muscles sore from the long day, but his mind was sharp. He was giving it everything he had– every ounce of energy, every ounce of focus. He was still in this. He had to be.

But Henry, it seemed, was built for moments like this. Sebastian's serve faltered early, and Henry pounced on it, breaking immediately. The gap widened slowly, methodically, as Henry controlled the pace of the game. There were flashes of brilliance from Sebastian– a forehand return that skidded just inside the sideline, a perfectly executed lob that sent Henry scrambling– but it wasn't enough to break Henry's momentum.

Despite the nerves swirling in his stomach, Sebastian couldn't help but feel a little rush of pride. His family– his unpredictable, loud, and lovable family– had somehow managed to turn up for him in full force. The weight of their presence was both a comfort and a pressure. His dad and Nancy remained politely quiet and hopeful. Artie– a true coach– had a pencil and notebook on his lap, keeping meticulous score updates for anyone who would listen. Griffin and Ella were bouncing in the stands as though it was a game of their own. He didn't have to look hard to see them. They were there, and they weren't just there to watch; they were there because they believed in him.

The match had turned into a battle of wills. Henry's consistency was a force of nature. Sebastian could feel the walls closing in as Henry's serves grew more potent, his returns sharper. With each game, it seemed like Henry was one step ahead, as if the match was always unfolding his way.

Finally, with the score at 5-3 in Henry's favor, Sebastian found himself serving to stay in the match. He fought with everything he had, but the fatigue was starting to set in. Henry played his usual brand of steady, unrelenting tennis, waiting for the slightest mistake.

And then, it came.

Sebastian double-faulted. The ball landed in the net, and with it, the match ended.

That was it. Game over.

The cheers that erupted from the crowd at the end of the match were– for the first time that day– not directed at Sebastian. Henry dropped his racquet and pumped his fists in the air in victory as Seb pressed his lips into a tight-lipped grimace. His stroke of good luck that day had come to an end, but Sebastian wasn't as disappointed as he'd expected to be. After all, he'd played some great tennis all day long. It was a remarkable comeback after being so out of practice.

Sebastian walked over to him, offering a firm handshake.

"You played well, Smythe," Henry said, his tone acknowledging the fight Sebastian had put up. He flashed Sebastian a bright grin that made the butterflies in his stomach take flight, reminding Seb that old feelings die hard.

Sebastian smiled faintly, his chest still heaving from the exertion. "You weren't so bad yourself. Congrats."

He hadn't won today, but there would be other days. And next time, he'd be ready.

Henry was then presented with his trophy, and, Sebastian, a medal of his own. They posed for a couple of photos for the club's newsletter before Seb made his way over to his fan club, which was standing by, ready to console him.

"Well, it was a close one," Artie said, pushing forward a pace to greet Sebastian and give him a supportive clap on the arm.

"You looked great out there," Griff added. "Miles and miles better than when we were here a few weeks back."

Seb nodded, accepting all of their compliments on his performance. A little boost to his ego never hurt.

"He didn't outplay you," Harrison told him, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "It was anyone's game, he got lucky. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks," Sebastian replied, taking the medal in his hand and hanging it around Ella's neck, ruffling her hair before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. "All of you. Each of you sacrificed something or dedicated some of your time to me over the last few weeks to get me here. And that means more to me than a stinkin' trophy."

He could tell that he'd surprised his family by not really caring about the outcome, but he finally understood what people meant when they said that it was about the journey and not the destination. Up until now, Sebastian had always thought that people who said that were full of shit. He had always wondered how anything could be better than winning. Now, in addition to quieting the doubt in his mind about whether he could ever be truly serious about tennis again, he'd learned that having a family– siblings– that believed in him certainly beat having a cheap trophy for his bedroom shelf.

After leaving Seb's match, the family loaded into two cars to head home. The parents rode in Harrison's Porsche, while the kids piled into Sebastian's Range Rover.

It wasn't until they got home that Sebastian was able to check his e-mail for the first time that day. Right at the top of his inbox was the one he had been waiting for. Setting his tennis bag on the floor of the kitchen, Seb hurriedly clicked on the notification, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip as he waited for the message to load.

Sebastian,

It is great to hear from you and I hope that you are having an exciting summer spending time with friends and family.

I will admit that the content of your e-mail initially surprised me. However, after reading about the changes to your family life over the last year, I can understand why a future here at Dalton may not be in your best interests anymore. You have been a stellar addition to the Dalton Academy community over the last three years, and an excellent leader in the classroom, as Head Warbler, and on the lacrosse team. Your presence on campus will be sorely missed.

I am writing to let you know that I have granted your request to transfer schools. You have been unenrolled as a Dalton Academy student and I have attached the official academic transcripts that you requested.

It has been a pleasure to know you and I wish you all the best in your future academic endeavors.

Warmly,

Headmaster Radcliffe

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Since talking with his dad last week, Sebastian had quietly begun the process of collecting all of the things he needed and making all the calls he had to in order to transfer schools. It was a tedious and time-consuming process, but Sebastian was determined to do it all on his own– a way to prove to his father that he'd made a mature decision. With these transcripts and this e-mail in hand, now all that was left was for Sebastian to officially enroll at McKinley High.

Sebastian's head was down as he reread the e-mail on his phone as he walked, when he nearly tripped over Artie.

"Jeez. Sorry, Art," Seb said, quickly turning off his phone and shoving it in his pocket as if he'd been caught, even though there was no possible way that Artie could have known what he was looking at.

"You're fine," Artie mumbled, not even bothering to glance up at the boy who'd just stumbled over him.

Sebastian paused, cocking his head to the side as he watched Artie continue down the hall toward his bedroom. It seemed like even if Artie had been able to see what had Sebastian so distracted, his current state would not have him caring very much. Sebastian was confused– Artie had seemed like he was in good spirits at the tennis match, but he had been pretty quiet during the car ride home. Actually, he'd been uncharacteristically reserved ever since coming home from his trip with Quinn.

What was up with that?

So, as any nosy little brother would, Sebastian followed Artie down the hall and into his bedroom to pry for answers.

"What?" asked Artie, exasperatedly locking his wheels in place before transferring onto his bed.

"You tell me," was Seb's reply.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nice try, but that's not gonna work on me."

Sebastian took the liberty of taking a seat in Artie's vacant wheelchair, silently indicating that he planned to stay until Artie fessed up to what was bothering him, to which Artie rolled his eyes.

"You've been acting strange lately, even for you. Don't think I haven't noticed. So, until you start talking, we're having an Artie-vention."

"A what?" Artie scoffed, as if to buy himself time. "I'm fine."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong," Sebastian said simply, sitting back in Artie's chair and folding his arms over his chest. Artie could be stubborn, but two could play that game. "And don't try lying to me, because I'll be able to see it on your face."

Artie blushed and looked away to avoid eye contact with Sebastian. Seb knew he had the other guy right where he wanted him.

"Ever since you and Quinn got back, you've been acting weird and looking all depressed," Sebastian pointed out. His delivery was a little brash and could have definitely been more gentle, but if Artie needed to hear this bluntly, then so be it. "Then, you snuck off in the middle of the night to go to your dad's place, which you never do…"

Artie was nodding along now, unable to combat any of Sebastian's points. Seb knew he'd cracked him.

"Fine, fine," Artie relented. "I guess, yeah, I've had… a lot on my mind. About Quinn, about Yale, about our future, about my future…" He sighed. "I guess I sort of… gave you an abridged recap of Quinn and I's trip to Connecticut. I didn't tell you the full story."

Oh, this was going to be even better than Sebastian had imagined. He sat forward with interest, resting his elbows on his knees, gesturing for Artie to continue.

In the minutes that followed, Sebastian learned that there were plenty of details that Artie had left out about the trip to New Haven when he'd told him about it the first time. He sat there silently as Artie confessed everything– from his doubts about the future and longevity of his and Quinn's relationship to the comments that complete strangers dared to make to his face. Sebastian didn't know how Artie could be so composed as he recounted it all for him. Sebastian felt so angry inside that he was sure that he had cartoon smoke billowing out of his ears.

"While visiting Yale, I also saw how inaccessible the campus and all of those old, historical buildings are. Every day would be a crapshoot, whether or not I'd have a simple day, or whether I'd be chasing around some administrator to operate a lift for me so I wouldn't be late to class, or be stranded somewhere because of a broken elevator," Artie ranted.

Embarrassingly, for the first time, Sebastian realized why Artie had been so invested in the college admissions process far before anyone else their age. He had plenty more things to factor into his decision about where to spend the next four years.

"I sent in my application, but I don't think I even really want to go to Yale except to be close to Quinn."

"So don't go there. How do you even know you'll get in?"

Artie shot him a deadpan look that said, 'Come on, dude'.

"Fine, okay. But you're Artie freakin' Abrams. You're the smartest guy I know. And the most creative. You deserve to be somewhere where you'll thrive. Screw the Ivies. And screw those idiots who said that shit to you. If I was there, I would've…"

Sebastian's voice trailed off. Because he did understand where those closed-minded kids were coming from. He knew how wrong it was now, but he used to think like that too. That was a hard reality to grapple with.

"But, dude, why didn't you tell me any of this before?" was all Sebastian could bring himself to say. Artie's uncertainty about his relationship's future, the way those yuppy Ivy Leaguers spoke to him… he was astonished by all of it.

"What difference does it make?" Artie asked. "What could you have done?"

"I could have… taken your side," Seb replied. "Been there for you. I know my advice doesn't count for much, but at least you wouldn't have been dealing with this by yourself for so long."

"I guess I felt that by keeping it all inside, I was protecting myself from hearing what people really thought about Quinn and I's relationship. I mean, don't you think I know that a guy that looks like me isn't supposed to end up with the cheerleader? I've seen it in, like, every movie I've ever watched. The Quinns of the world are supposed to end up with the Finns, or the Sams. Even the Pucks. Not the Arties. Never the Arties."

"Who cares?! Those are movies! They're made up!" Sebastian exclaimed.

"That's easy for you to say!"

"Why? Because gay guys like me have Will & Grace? Modern Family?" Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'm going to give you some tough love here, Art, because that's what I think you need to hear. The real world isn't like television."

Artie blinked back at him, seemingly at a loss for words. "I know that," he said quietly.

"But what's going to be equally tough to hear is that if you're having even the slightest bit of doubt about your relationship with Quinn, or about following her to college– which I still think is a bad idea, by the way– then I think you guys should take a break. At least for the first semester. And that really sucks to say, because watching you and Quinn all summer has been…" Sebastian searched his brain for the proper adjective but came up short. "… annoying."

Artie raised an eyebrow.

"In the best way!" Seb quickly amended. "Annoying because seeing other people in love when you're single can easily spark some jealousy and resentment. But you guys are pretty aspirational, too. I hope that one day– when I'm ready to settle down, which probably won't be until my mid-thirties– I'll find someone who makes me half as happy as Quinn makes you."

"So you're jealous of how perfect we are together, but are still advising me to throw in the towel? What kind of advice is that?!" Artie asked, pulling his legs up to his chest and hiding his face in his knees.

"Just because things may seem perfect doesn't mean they are." Sebastian shrugged. "And, hey, if my suggestion is total bullshit and isn't meant to be, then the universe will bring you guys back together. There isn't a rule that says that a breakup has to be permanent."

Artie timidly peeked out from behind his knees, and Sebastian took that as an invitation to continue.

"You guys have spent nearly every day together this summer. I just think that you and Quinn both need some space for a bit. She needs to be able to figure out how to navigate college life on her own, and you deserve to grow like that, too," Sebastian said, honestly. "It's senior year, Artie. Who knows what's ahead for you? Maybe Quinn's not the love of your life, after all. Maybe she's still out there. Or maybe he's a he!"

"Sebastian–"

"I know, I know, just humor me for a second, will you?" Sebastian cut him off. "All I'm saying is that you should be open to possibilities. Maybe life will surprise you. I mean, look at where that's gotten us. If someone told me a year ago that I'd be sitting here having this conversation with you, in your room, in our house, I would have asked what kind of drugs they were on."

Artie could laugh at that, and so could Sebastian. Nine months ago, they didn't even know one another and, yet, were sworn enemies. Now, it all felt absurd. The difference a year could make was staggering. Sebastian had come to realize how even the smallest changes– like learning to think before acting or just slightly shifting his perspective– could greatly improve his daily life and the way he interacted with those around him. Artie deserved the same opportunity to grow without anything holding him back.

Artie was silent for a minute, pursing his lips to the side the way he always does when he's thinking hard. Eventually, he nodded. "Thanks."

Artie gestured for Sebastian to stand up and give him a hug, and he obliged.

"You're not bad at giving advice, you know," Artie told him as Sebastian sat on the edge of his mattress. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna miss seeing you all the time. It sucks that Dalton's so far away and that they keep you there from dawn to dusk. It's been nice having you around."

Sebastian gave him a restrained smile as they sat together. It took everything in him not to tell Artie right then and there about his decision to transfer schools, but he'd promised himself that he wouldn't utter a word of it to any of his siblings until his enrollment at McKinley was complete. So, he bit his tongue.

"Yeah," Sebastian settled on saying. "I'll miss you, too."