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Troy looks like a zombie.
Shirley is not overly familiar with zombie media– she’s only watched two zombie movies in her life, both terrible 70’s movies that they made fun of in Abed’s dorm– but she’s hard-pressed to think of a more appropriate metaphor.
His eyes are puffy and glassy, fixed on the table in front of him. His hands are folded in his lap, and he makes no sounds except for the occasional sniffle. He almost looks sick, but there’s something in his posture and silence that give away something else.
Shirley glances around and sees that nobody else has arrived yet, and they probably won’t for a little while. She moves out of the doorway and toward Troy, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Troy, sweetie?”
He looks up, almost surprised to see her. “Oh. Hi, Shirley.”
She smiles gently. “Do you want to come sit in the cafeteria with me? I have a brownie in my purse.”
Troy sniffs and nods, standing up. Shirley places a hand on his back and rubs reassuringly as they make their way out of the room.
When they sit down at their usual cafeteria table, Troy seems to come back to himself a little bit, looking around at the deserted room. “What about study group? Should we tell them we’re not going to be there?”
Shirley smiles a little, endeared by Troy. She always liked how sweet he is. “I think they’ll be okay.” She digs the brownie out of her purse and hands it to him. He accepts it gratefully.
Troy eats his brownie in little bites, picking off pieces so small they’re almost crumbs. Shirley’s patient, giving him time. He looks up eventually, and mumbles, “Thank you for the brownie.”
Shirley gives him a smile and keeps her voice gentle. “Are you okay, honey?”
Troy’s face immediately crumbles. He swallows and averts his eyes, hands back in his lap. He’s breathing hard, and he shakes his head fast.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Troy curls into himself, eyes shiny, voice weak. “You’re gonna be disappointed in me.”
Shirley melts inside. “Oh, Troy, no...” She reaches out across the table and holds his hand, steady and warm. At her touch, Troy begins to cry, gripping her hand tight. Shirley’s heart sinks. Whatever is wrong with Troy, it must be bad.
Eventually his sobs subside and he sits up, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He looks at Shirley, eyes deep with a sadness she doesn’t recognize in him. Maybe she should invite him to church with her. That would cheer him up.
“Shirley...”
She squeezes his hand reassuringly. He takes a deep breath.
“I’m gay.”
Shirley’s heart stops. Her grip automatically relaxes in Troy’s hand, but he doesn’t let go. He’s looking at her with a desperation that makes her heart wrench.
“I told my mom, last week. She said... she said I should probably not come visit during not-Christmas this year.”
Now Troy does let go of her hand. He sniffles and whines softly, reminiscent of Abed during his... episodes. Meltdowns. That’s what he told her to call them. And...
Oh.
“It’s Abed, isn’t it, sweetie?”
Troy nods. He looks almost scared. He seems so small and vulnerable, like one of her boys after a nightmare. She loves him, she really does.
Shirley smiles and puts her hand gingerly over Troy’s. “How about you come to church with me this week?”
Troy’s face falls, slowly, like he’s not sure what to think. She expects him to say thank you for supporting him, to hug her and cry a little bit more, but he doesn’t. He just wordlessly slides down the bench, picking up his backpack as he stands and holding it against his chest. He starts to walk away from her.
“Troy?”
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t say another word to her. He’s just gone.
He still looks like one of her boys.
————
Troy finally manages to stop crying. He’d been in tears since the moment he got home, ranging from a soft hiccup to full-out sobbing. But crying for too long is exhausting, so now he lays bone-tired and emotionally drained on the bottom bunk, face buried in Abed’s chest.
“Are you feeling better?” Abed’s voice is low, and their proximity makes a gentle hum run through Troy’s body.
Troy nods. “A little.” Abed snakes his hand under Troy’s pajama shirt and rubs softly at his back muscles. Troy leans into it, closing his eyes.
They lay there for a long time, legs tangled, torsos pressed together to create a bubble of warmth around them. It’s good, it’s comfortable and calming, but an ugly feeling is still twisting somewhere deep inside Troy’s stomach.
He sighs, tugging Abed closer, a safety among the fear. “I shouldn’t have told her. I knew she’d want to fix me.”
Abed kisses his forehead. His eyes flutter closed again, accepting the little bit of love given to him. “There’s nothing to fix.”
“I love you.”
“I know.” A pause. “I love you, too.”
Troy must have fallen asleep, because a moment later, he’s being shaken softly. “Troy.”
“Whuh?”
He forces his eyes open to see Annie standing above him. Abed yawns and grunts in acknowledgement of her.
“Annie, what time is it?” Troy’s eyes are bleary and his brain is stuttering at half speed.
“It’s only nine.”
“Oh. Well why are you–“
“Shirley’s here to see you. She says it’s important.”
Troy rolls back into Abed’s chest, and Abed gathers him in his arms. Abed’s voice is steady. “Tell her to go away, please.”
“Troy, I think you should talk to her.”
Troy stays still, considering this for a moment. Eventually, slowly, he extracts himself from Abed’s arms and sits up on the bed. Whatever she has to say to him, it can’t be worse than what his mom said. What drunk men yell at him and Abed when they’re walking down the street. What he’s already imagined Shirley saying, over and over again.
Abed sits up, too, but Troy motions for him to stay where he is. He nods hesitantly.
Annie leans forward and kisses Troy’s forehead. “I’ll be in my room. I love you.”
“Love you,” Troy mumbles as she swishes the curtains aside, leaving the fort.
Troy sits on the bed for too long before he gathers the energy to stand. He drags his feet on the way out, sees Shirley sitting in Abed’s armchair, newly positioned across from the couch.
“What are you doing here.” His voice is dull as he shuffles to the couch, sitting dead in the center of it. Something inside Troy feels a little silly to be in his pajamas while Shirley’s wearing normal clothes, but he swallows the feeling.
“I need to talk to you. You haven’t returned any of my calls, I was so worried about you –“
“Yeah, I know you are.”
Shirley falters. “Troy, what are you –“
“I know you think I’m broken. And I know you think Jesus will fix me, but I’ve tried that. And I’m not interested anymore.”
“Troy, sweetie, you grew up Christian. Kind of. I thought you’d understand.”
“Understand what? That I’m broken? That God hates me?”
An unpleasant lump forms in Troy’s throat. He’s going to cry again. Troy’s about to open his mouth again when he sees the blanket fort curtains open, and Abed walking briskly toward him.
Without a word, Abed sits on the couch next to Troy and holds his hand between them. The pajamas now outnumber normal clothes.
Shirley blinks. “Abed, this is a private conversation between me and Troy, do you think you could–“
“No.”
It’s quiet and firm, leaving no room for argument. Troy could kiss him right there. He settles for squeezing his hand.
“Listen,” Shirley says, “I can’t pretend I understand. I don’t. But I care about you, Troy. So much. And I don’t think you’re broken.”
Troy is silent.
“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” Shirley sighs. “Church is a place of celebration for me. It’s where I go with my family. I wanted to share that with you. I never thought about how it must have sounded from your end.”
Troy hazards a look up at her. “I thought you hated me.”
Shirley looks devastated at the thought. She stands and moves to Troy’s other side on the couch, wrapping him in a hug. “Oh, honey, no.” She sways a little as he returns the hug with his free hand. “I could never hate you.”
Abed clears his throat. “I’m gay, too. Bisexual.”
Shirley perks up. “Oh, that’s nice! Thank you for telling me...” She glances at their intertwined hands. “...I guess.”
Annie’s door bursts open and she stands in front of them, grinning. “Thank goodness that’s over. Who wants late dinner?”
Abed perks up. “I do! Special drink and noodles.”
Annie moves toward the kitchen, Abed in tow. They’re talking at a hundred miles an hour about who’s eating what and who will make it.
Shirley grins at them before turning her attention fully to Troy. “I love you, do you know that?”
Troy nods. “I love you too.”
“And if you want, we would love to have you over for our Christmas. We could even make it a not-Christmas, just for you.”
Something warm expands inside Troy’s chest. “Really?”
“Of course.”
Shirley leans her head against Troy’s shoulder, and they sit for a moment, enjoying the silence.
“And of course, if you did want to come to church with me–“
“Shirley.”
“Right, sorry. Love you.”
“Love you too.”