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“Cool,” Abed says flatly. “Cool cool cool.”
“That’s a lie,” says Mara, the polygraph technician.
Abed stands up quickly, yanks the polygraph wires off of his hand, and strides out of the room.
Everyone stares out the door after him, but Troy already knows he won’t be back. He’s not sure where Abed is headed, but he is certain that he won’t be returning to this room, to these people. So he stands up and pulls his own wires off.
“I’ve gotta go find him,” he says to no one in particular, and then he runs out the door.
First he checks the storage closet where Abed sometimes hides, and then the AV room, and then the spot on top of the roof where he likes to sit and watch people. Troy checks the wishing fountain, the cafeteria, and even the choir room, just in case. Abed is nowhere to be found.
Finally, Troy decides to head back to the apartment, in hopes that Abed decided to just go straight home. They carpooled with Annie today, so he walks home, and it’s only a few blocks but it feels like miles as he scans each street for a glimpse of Abed. Of course, Abed had a head start, so Troy doesn’t really think he’ll catch up.
When he gets to the apartment, he quickly scans the kitchen and the living room, which are empty, as is the bathroom. Troy doesn’t really think Abed would be in either of the bedrooms, so he goes to check the blanket fort.
He touches the spot where the two sheets meet in the middle, the entrance to the fort, but they don’t part for him. He takes the sheet in his hand and pulls it closer to take a look. Abed has stapled the two sheets together, a long row of staples from top to bottom, effectively getting rid of the entrance to the fort.
Logically, Troy knows it’s a little silly, and he knows Abed knows that, too. The fort is made of sheets. A person could still get in. But Troy also knows that he won’t try, because Abed clearly doesn’t want him to. Because Abed clearly wants to be alone right now.
He doesn’t come out for dinner, and he doesn’t respond when Annie tells him they’re going out for drinks with Mr. Stone. Troy stays home, and before he knows it it’s bedtime, and Annie’s back, and Troy and Annie get ready to sleep without a word from Abed. Troy would be starting to wonder if Abed is even in there at all, but he’s heard the faint sounds of him moving around in there a few times.
Troy takes two Benadryl so he can fall straight to sleep without thinking or feeling. He's out in minutes.
The next day is Saturday, and Troy sleeps in. When he gets up around noon, he shuffles out to the kitchen to find a note from Annie saying she'll be out for most of the day, and no sign of life in the blanket fort.
He eats breakfast for lunch and watches TV for a while, but by mid-afternoon he can't take it anymore.
Time is starting to run out, and Troy needs to start planning and packing for his trip, and he can’t bear the thought of leaving without talking to Abed again. So he does the thing he promised he wouldn’t do. He ducks under the sheet and essentially breaks into the blanket fort.
Abed is sitting on the bottom bunk, knees pulled close to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His head is resting on his knees and he’s got his noise-canceling headphones on, but he takes them off when Troy enters, and Troy can tell from his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles under them that Abed hasn’t slept since the night before Pierce’s funeral. He has his weighted blanket draped over his shoulders, which contributes to the impression that he is carrying the weight of the world.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Abed says dully as Troy stands up. “I closed the entrance for a reason.”
“I know,” Troy replies. “That’s why I waited. But I can’t wait anymore. I can’t waste the time we have left before I leave.”
Abed draws a sharp breath but doesn’t say anything. He stares at his hands, and Troy realizes Abed is holding something. It looks like a small stack of papers. Troy looks at them and then up at Abed, and Abed shrugs and holds them out so Troy can see.
He recognizes them immediately. They’re all Christmas cards, and they’re all from Abed’s mom. They’re all the cards that Abed has received since she left.
Since she left him.
Troy should have anticipated this.
“I should have anticipated this,” says Abed, and Troy wants to shout, get out of my brain, but this isn’t the right time, it wouldn’t be appropriate. “This is my fault. I initially assumed you’d leave eventually, and then at some point in our friendship, I managed to convince myself otherwise. That you were the exception to the rule. That was my mistake.”
“Abed…” Troy says, but he doesn’t know how to continue. Because Abed is right. Not about making a mistake, but about Troy eventually leaving. He tried so hard to make Abed understand that he would always be there, that he wasn’t like the other people in Abed’s life -- and then the second an opportunity was placed in front of him, he took it. He chose to leave.
“Look, it’s just--” Abed swallows and blinks several times. “I’m just really going to miss you, that’s all.” He dives down on the bed and pulls the weighted blanket over his head until he’s nothing but a lump on the mattress.
A lump on the mattress that soon begins to shake, and then the shaking turns to sniffling and the sniffling turns to sobbing and Troy is standing there frozen because although Abed has comforted him a thousand times when he was the one crying, their roles have never been reversed like this. He’s never seen Abed fall apart like this. And it scares him a little.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and waits, but Abed doesn’t seem to be calming down, and Troy’s heart is breaking, and he has to do something, he can’t just sit back and watch.
“Hey, buddy. Can I touch you?” he asks, leaning toward the part of the lump that is Abed’s head. There’s a short lull in the sobbing.
“No, thank you,” comes Abed’s muffled voice, and Troy’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know what else to do.
Abed keeps crying, a little more quietly now, and Troy stays right where he is, vowing that at least he won’t leave right now. At least he’ll make sure Abed is okay. At least he can keep trying to be a good friend for as long as he has the opportunity.
A few minutes pass, and then it gets quiet and Abed stills.
“Troy,” he says from under the blanket. “You can touch me now.”
Troy lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and then he carefully leans over to throw his arm across what he thinks are Abed’s shoulders. He hesitates, then leans a little further, tries to put both arms around him. It’s awkward and weird, but Troy does it anyway.
Abed changes position so that he’s laying flat on his stomach with the blanket still covering him. He lifts up the corner of the blanket.
“Would you lay on me?” he asks, his voice trembling. He sounds shy. Embarrassed.
But Troy has been doing this for Abed for years, laying on him when he needs extra pressure, when he needs to feel grounded, to feel present, to calm down. This isn’t a new request. This isn’t anything that should ever make Abed nervous or ashamed.
Troy wonders if this means their friendship has already changed. He wonders if they’re even still Troy and Abed, or if he’s Just Troy and Abed is Just Abed now.
He wonders how to make this right.
Troy lays face down on top of Abed, doing his best to cover as much of him as possible. He lets himself relax, lets his weight settle, and he closes his eyes, tries to pretend everything is normal and fine. That there’s nothing life-changing or friendship-ruining going on here.
They lay like that for a long time, until Abed sticks a hand out from under the blanket and grabs Troy's wrist. That's their signal, because sometimes when Abed needs Troy to lay on him, he also can't speak for a little while. Troy rolls off and sits with his back against the wall.
Abed emerges from under the blanket, his skin flushed and his hair all over the place. He sits next to Troy against the wall, a couple of feet between them, much larger a gap than normal. He blinks his eyes, and they're tired and glassy.
"How, um…" Troy clears his throat. "How are you feeling?"
Abed shrugs, but doesn't say anything; he just stares at a spot over Troy's shoulder. His hands are in his lap and he's rapidly tapping his fingers together in a pattern.
"Abed," Troy says, but Abed doesn't look at him. Doesn't respond at all. "Abed, if I say some stuff, would you listen? You don't have to say anything. Just nod if it's okay."
Abed maintains his gaze over Troy's shoulder. He picks up the weighted blanket and lays it across his lap. He doesn’t nod.
“Can I say something first?” Abed’s voice is quiet and broken.
“Yeah, buddy,” Troy says, and he’s just glad to have a response. “Of course, go ahead.”
Abed opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. He does that two more times, like he can’t figure out where to start, and then he bites down on his lips and folds his hands in his lap and stares down at them. He doesn’t look up when he starts talking.
“I don’t want to be like this. I’m not-- I’m not trying to be like this,” he says, sounding ragged and strained. “I want you to take the trip, and I want to be happy for you. I want you to be your own person.”
Now he does look up at Troy, and his eyes are red and watery again.
“I don’t know how to do this, how to deal with people leaving. After my mom left I-- I never really had friends. So it wasn’t an issue. But then there was you, and now it’s like this, and I don’t-- I don’t know how to react to this, I don’t know what I have to do to make this okay. Please, can you just-- just tell me what I have to do to make it not hurt like this?”
“Abed, I…”
“I’m not trying to make this hard for you, I swear. I’m not trying to be manipulative and ask you to stay. I know that’s what it looks like, but I’m not…” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “I want you to have an adventure and get the inheritance, Troy. I want you to be your own person. But-- but when I got home and stapled the fort shut yesterday, the floor turned into lava, and I don’t know how to make it go away. And it’s embarrassing and I’m crazy and I know that but I still can’t make it stop.”
Abed looks at Troy with a look of pure desperation on his face, and Troy realizes maybe that’s the reason Abed hasn’t left the blanket fort. Because he can’t.
He does the only thing he can think of to do. He launches himself across Abed’s lap and throws his arms around him. Abed hesitates for just a moment before letting his own arms wrap around Troy, digging his fingers into his back and holding him like his life depends on it.
They sit like that in silence, long enough for Abed to relax into Troy’s arms and take some deep breaths while Troy rubs circles on his back and rocks him gently back and forth. Abed can’t seem to stop shaking, and finally Troy reaches behind him to grab another blanket from the bed, which he pulls up over Abed’s shoulders. He doesn’t actually think Abed is shaking because he’s cold, but it’s the best he can do right now.
“Can I say something now?” Troy murmurs against Abed’s neck, and he feels Abed nod.
Troy takes a breath, wishing he had thought this through earlier -- what to say, what to do, how to fix it. He should have known. He should have prepared. But now here he is, and he’s just going to have to wing it.
“I don’t think you’re being manipulative,” he says, because it’s important for Abed to know that. “I think what we have to do now is figure out how to make this okay. Together. We have to-- to make a plan that’s going to get us through. One that will stop it from hurting so much. I-- Here,” he says, and he reaches down to grab a notebook and a marker from the floor next to the bed. Abed winces and looks away.
Troy turns to a fresh sheet of paper and sets the notebook on the bed between them. He uncaps the marker and writes:
TROY AND ABED’S PLAN FOR MAKING IT THROUGH THIS
1.
Troy glances up at Abed and attempts a smile. Abed’s mouth tilts ever so slightly into a weak smile of its own, one so subtle Troy is probably the only one who would ever recognize it. It’s enough.
“We should focus on ways to keep in touch,” Troy says. “I don’t really know the specifics of the trip yet, but we can guess and change things if we have to. Maybe number one can be that I send you a postcard or letter every time I’m in a new country, whenever I can find a post office.”
“And I can email you,” Abed says quietly. “That could be number two. There are internet cafes everywhere, right?”
“Yeah! I’ll figure something out for sure. Maybe we can even talk on the phone sometimes. Probably not too often, because it’s expensive. But sometimes. That can be number three.”
“Number four: you should probably put a message in a bottle at some point,” Abed adds. “I doubt I’ll get it, but it fits the narrative since you’ll be sailing.”
“Number five is to look into ways to get wifi on the boat, if that’s even possible,” Troy says. “Then we could video chat.”
“Number six: take pictures for me. I want to see everything when you get back.”
“Number seven: record important things that happen at Greendale and with our friends so I don’t miss anything important.”
“Number eight: take these with you,” Abed says, making his way over to the dresser. He pulls out his green spaceship pajamas and hands them to Troy. Troy takes them and holds them close to his chest, swallowing hard and trying not to cry.
“Number nine: keep these here with you,” he says, clearing his throat and grabbing his blue and orange pajamas. He symbolically hands them to Abed, even though they’ll just end up back in the same drawer.
“The lava’s going away,” Abed whispers, staring over the edge of the bunk bed. “It’s not completely gone, but I can see parts of the floor now.”
“How do we get the rest of it to disappear?” Troy asks. “Is there anything else we can put on the list? Abed?”
Abed is staring at Troy now, frozen, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide.
“Are you okay?” Troy asks worriedly, wondering what happened, if he accidentally did something to break Abed again.
Abed blinks twice and then puts a hand on Troy’s leg. He leans forward, across the space between them, and then he kisses Troy softly on the side of his mouth.
“Number ten: I love you, and if I don’t tell you now I’ll regret it forever.” He sits back and stares down at the floor.
Troy is the one who’s frozen now, his whole body tingling, his brain going a million miles an hour. He tries to put his thoughts in order, then realizes he can do that later. He needs to do the most important thing first.
“I love you too,” he breathes, pulling Abed back toward him. “I-- I love you too, Abed.” He says it like a revelation. Which it kind of is.
They kiss again, full on the lips this time, and Troy holds Abed close to him, runs a hand through his hair.
“Did you know before this moment?” Abed asks.
“Some part of me knew,” Troy admits. “I, um, pushed it away. When I had those kinds of thoughts, I would make myself think about something else. I was...scared.”
“Scared of liking a boy? Or scared that I didn’t love you back?”
“Both,” Troy says with a nervous laugh, and then he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His whole body feels like it’s vibrating. “Compared to sailing around the whole world, it seems a little less scary, though.”
“The, um. The lava’s all gone now,” Abed says softly, looking down, and Troy rubs his back.
They kiss a third time, and this time Abed opens his mouth, prompting Troy to do the same. The kiss is warm and deep and unlike anything Troy has ever experienced. He thinks that if he had known kissing could be this good, he would have been trying to do a lot more of it this whole time.
Then he pushes all of his thoughts out of his brain and focuses on Abed, on this moment, and he sighs softly in the back of his throat. Abed’s hands are on his waist, and he slides one up under Troy’s shirt, resting it there, and Troy feels tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t want to be that guy who starts crying just from making out, but there’s something very comforting about Abed’s hand being there, grounding him, making him feel safe. That combined with the knowledge that he’s about to leave this all behind creates a swell of emotion in him, and before he knows it tears are streaming down his face.
He’s about to apologize when Abed pulls away from his mouth and begins to kiss his cheeks instead, kissing every spot that’s wet, kissing his tears away. Then he pulls Troy into a hug, a tight hug, Troy’s favorite kind of hug, and he just holds him like that for a long time.
“I’m really gonna miss you,” Troy whispers, and Abed squeezes him even tighter. “I’m really, really…” He starts crying for real before he can finish the sentence.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Abed says gently. “But-- but this is going to be so good for you. You know it is. And I’ll be waiting when you get home. I’ll wait for you, Troy.”
“I wish there were a way to make this hurt less,” Troy sniffles, sitting back. “I wish we could just...get rid of that part of us. The emotional part. It would make it easier.”
Abed frowns and chews on his lip, and Troy realizes he’s trying to figure out a way to do just that.
“What if we cloned ourselves?” Abed suggests. “And we left out the wild emotionality, the part that hurts. And Clone Troy could go on the trip and Clone Abed could stay here and we’d know that we could stand it, that we could get through it. Because the part of us that made it so sad and painful was gone.”
“Clones,” Troy repeats, and nods. “I think that could work.”
“It’ll be a safe enough procedure in the Dreamatorium,” Abed says, gesturing at the refrigerator box next to the bed. “Do you want to go first?”
“Sure,” Troy says, and then thinks of something. “Do you think you could, uh, leave out the part of me that’s terrified of going on my trip, too?”
“Of course,” Abed says. “Oh, I’ll replace that part with homing pigeon DNA. It’ll give you a compulsion to come back.” And that’s it, he doesn’t question why Troy is afraid or make him feel ashamed of it. He just accepts it and moves on. Troy remembers why he loves Abed so, so much.
“I don’t need a pigeon to know I want to come back to you,” Troy says. “But I appreciate the gesture.”
He steps into the box and Abed closes it around him. He hears Abed make a series of beeping sounds, and when Troy steps out of the box a moment later he feels lighter. He can feel the absence of the missing emotional part of him.
“My turn,” Abed says, and gets in the box.
Tory tries to imitate the same sequence of beeps to make the process as seamless as possible, and when Abed emerges, he looks stronger somehow, less fragile than he was a couple of minutes ago. They hug, and then they kiss.
“I think it worked,” Abed says. “I think...I think I may be able to let you go now.”
“I think I can go now,” Troy says. “Thank you for helping me with that.”
They sit down on the bottom bunk together.
“Hey,” Abed says. “We should plan something cool for your last day at Greendale. Like, paintball levels of cool.”
“Ooh, let’s make a list of ideas,” Troy says, turning the notebook to a blank page. “Something awesome and unforgettable.”
“Like you,” Abed says with a smile, and they do their handshake, and then Abed takes Troy’s hand and holds it while they make their list.