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Jeff’s not entirely sure what possessed him to ask Abed if he needed a ride home after the bar.
Except of course, he knows exactly what possessed him, and it’s the same force that leads him to pass Abed’s street and pull up in front of his own apartment complex, instead. Abed doesn’t even seem surprised.
“Is this okay?” Jeff asks, and Abed just looks at him.
“Why’d you offer to drive me home if you were just going to make me walk from here?” he asks.
“I’m not–” Jeff genuinely can’t tell if Abed is fucking with him or not. “I want you to come upstairs. To talk. If you want. Maybe have another drink.”
“Cool.” Abed climbs out of the car and heads up to the building without even waiting for Jeff.
Years ago, at a bar, Jeff had warned Troy off women like Britta, saying she was a hurricane. Now, he’s got a vague notion that Abed is more like a blizzard: entirely disorienting, but a little bit magical, nonetheless.
He follows him to the door and leads him upstairs to his apartment. Abed makes himself at home, kicking his shoes off and settling into the couch while Jeff fixes himself a scotch. Abed will get himself a drink if he wants, because that’s what he does now at Jeff’s place.
He’s got the TV on already, volume low, by the time Jeff takes a seat beside him. As he channel-surfs, he says to Jeff, “You can ask me now.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to talk. So whatever it is you want to ask, you can ask me now.”
“Okay.” Jeff places his glass on the coffee table so he can give Abed his full attention. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
“I did,” Abed says in that even tone of his, pointing vaguely over his shoulder. “Back at the bar. Do you not remember that?”
“No, I mean–” Jeff huffs. “What, you thought it was okay to just throw it out there like that in front of everybody?”
Abed looks confused. “Well, yeah. I wanted to wait until everyone was all together. Why, did you want me to tell you separately?”
Jeff feels stupid to hear it out loud like that, but…well, yeah, kind of. Yes. He expected to mean a little bit more than a group announcement in the middle of a crowded bar. Didn’t he deserve more of an explanation? Some kind of warning that this was coming?
He doesn’t know exactly what kind of name to put to it, but there’s been something blooming between him and Abed in the months since Troy left. Abed lingers in his office at the end of the day, and Jeff usually drives him home, and sometimes when apartment 303 feels too loud in its silences, too unbearably empty without Abed’s other half, they’ll order takeout and watch movies together at Jeff’s place, and Abed will fall asleep on the couch.
It might just be comfort to Abed, a break in his old routine that’s familiar enough to be soothing instead of jarring. To Jeff it’s everything – a gentle exploration of broad feelings he’s spent his whole life repressing and deeper, more specific feelings for Abed he’s been trying to hide for the past few years. It’s only now occurring to him these moments together might not mean anything special to Abed.
Struck by this sudden knowledge, Jeff sinks back into the arm of the couch. “I think you’re my best friend,” he says slowly, “and it’s taken me until this very moment to realize I will never be yours.”
Abed looks up sharply at that, and Jeff points at him. “I’m right, aren’t I? You won’t let anyone in the way you let Troy in. And I know I’m not as special as him, because nobody is, except maybe you, and that’s fine. I’m not trying to replace him. But Jesus, Abed, you spend more time here than you do at your own place these days. Does that mean nothing to you?”
Abed is staring at his hands, picking at the skin of his cuticles, and Jeff wants to reach out and stop him. Before he gets a chance, though, Abed speaks, and his voice is clipped and quick. “I knew you’d be like this. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner. I knew you’d make it harder to leave.”
He glances at Jeff and then says in a rush, “But I can’t stay in this town, Jeff. It’s not about you not being special, if that’s what you’re really worried about. It’s about Troy being my best friend, and how he’s gone now and I miss him every single fucking day.”
It’s so rare to hear Abed curse like that that Jeff flinches, but Abed doesn’t notice. “Everywhere I go at Greendale, he’s been there already. Every hallway, every classroom. I can’t go anywhere without thinking of him and everything we used to do together, and how he was the very first person in my life to understand me and decided he liked me, anyway.”
He breaks off and swallows, glancing around Jeff’s apartment. “Even being here hurts sometimes, because we used to break in when you were out and look at all your stuff.”
“I’ll move,” Jeff says stupidly, and it’s enough to get Abed to look at him again. “I don’t care. I have no attachment to this place. Do you want me to move to another unit? Another building? Will that make you stay?”
Abed smiles sadly. “Thanks, Jeff, but that’s not the point.” He takes a deep breath. “The fact is, we have no idea if he’s even alive anymore. And I have no doubt in my mind that if he is, he’ll find me at the end of his trip, because that’s what he does – he finds me. But I can’t stay in this town waiting for that to happen. I need to go somewhere he’s never been so I don’t spend the next few years of my life having nightmares every time I try to go to sleep.”
“Do you get nightmares now?” Jeff asks quietly.
“Almost every night, yeah.” Abed glances at him and then back down at his lap, still fidgeting with his hands. “Maybe not the nights I’m here.”
Jeff closes his eyes and breathes out on a sigh. Poor Abed. Jeff regrets not paying closer attention. Obviously the time since Troy left had been hard on Abed, but he'd been trying his best to smile and carry on despite it all. Jeff never expected to hear about nightmares or constant reminders of his best friend everywhere Abed looked. The poor guy must be in an endless state of agony.
When Jeff opens his eyes, Abed is watching him carefully. He starts to speak again, quietly this time.
“I know everyone wants to know whether Troy and I were…involved, in that way. If it was ever physical between us. And the answer is no. It was never like that. But…he was my best friend, Jeff, and I don’t think enough people understand what that means to us. We didn’t really have a word for it, but we were everything to each other.” He sighs and stares down at his fists in his lap. “I love him and he loves me, and if he ever comes back it’ll go back to exactly how it was before he left.”
“Which means what, exactly?” Jeff asks, frowning.
“Which means we’ll go back to being Troy-and-Abed again. Which means we can date other people, or not, just like we did before, but we’ll always be the most important people in each other’s lives. It’s not sexual or romantic, it’s just how it is.” He tilts his head in that Abed way of his. “Does that make sense? Is that something you think you can live with?”
“Does it matter what I can live with?” Jeff scoffs. “You’re leaving, remember? You’re ditching me and I’m going to be all alone again.”
“That’s not true. Britta will still be here. And Craig and Frankie.”
Jeff laughs then, a shaky and mirthless sound. “As if that’ll ever be enough to replace you,” he says drily. Then, before he can stop himself, he’s lunging forward and capturing Abed’s lips in a desperate, heated kiss.
He immediately regrets it: because the kiss is awful and messy and a little bit drunk, because he’s doing it partially to guilt Abed into staying, because in spite of all these reasons he can’t bring himself to regret it at all. The thing is, it’s Abed, and this kiss is exactly what Jeff has been wanting for longer than he can put into words, and he loves it so much he hates himself for it.
But after a moment of stunned stillness, Abed is kissing him back. And Jeff hates himself a little bit less, because if Abed finds something in him worth kissing, that’s got to mean something.
“Please let me come to California with you,” Jeff whispers when they break apart, both of them out of breath and a little shocked. “Please. You can have your own life, just let me be near it.”
Abed shakes his head, urgently, entirely lost for words. But it doesn’t feel like a rejection, the way it probably should, especially not when Abed moves to straddle Jeff’s lap and leans back in to kiss him hungrily.
Jeff expects Abed to be all skin and bones under his hands, and he is, but he’s also taut muscle, warm and strong and smooth under Jeff’s palms. And he moves with a determination Jeff never expected as yanks Jeff’s sweater over his head, runs one hand down his chest and threads the other through his hair.
“Wait,” Abed says suddenly, breaking away from the kiss, and before Jeff has a chance to wonder how he’d fucked this up already, Abed is pulling up a song on his phone before tossing it onto the end table next to him. “Sorry.”
Jeff tilts his head as the opening notes croon through the phone’s speaker. Stay! Ahhh, just a little bit longer… “Is this from–”
“From Dirty Dancing, yeah,” Abed says quickly. “I know it’s stupid, but in the name of goodbyes, and short-lived flings, and lifechanging romances in unexpected places…just, can we…”
“It’s fine,” Jeff breathes, cupping Abed’s face and bringing him in for another kiss. “It’s a good song. And, uh, nobody puts Baby in the corner, right?”
It’s weak, probably his worst reference to date, but it makes Abed whisper “Nice callback” and smile against Jeff’s lips as he deepens their kiss.
Jeff shouldn’t be surprised to find that Abed kisses with a laser focus and a spine-tingling intensity, because that’s how he does everything in life. And right now he’s directing all that attention to Jeff, as if he’s someone worth paying attention to, which itself is an entirely mind-blowing thought.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against Jeff’s jaw, and Jeff whimpers as Abed’s kisses slide down his neck. “I really wish I’d known you weren’t straight. I’ve wanted to do this since I met you.”
Jeff groans and pulls Abed up by the collar so he can look him in the eyes. “Please don’t say things like that when you’re about to walk out of my life forever.”
“I never said it had to be forever.” Abed shoots a finger gun in his direction before his expression softens. “But…noted. Enough talking.”
Before Jeff can protest, Abed’s mouth is back on his, and maybe he’s right, maybe the talking can wait.
They end the night on the couch stripped down to their underwear, Abed’s entire long, lanky body stretched out on top of Jeff’s. They’d called it off beyond kissing, because sex felt like both too much too soon and not nearly enough for a one-time thing. But now Abed is pressed up against Jeff, and his face is hiding in the crook of Jeff’s neck, and Jeff is smoothing one hand down Abed’s back while the other cards through his hair, and this is intimate in a whole different type of way. Jeff doesn’t know how he’s supposed to give this up.
“I don’t have to stay at Greendale forever,” he whispers, half-hoping Abed won’t hear him. He’s mostly just thinking out loud. “They have community colleges in California. And law firms. I don’t have to follow you there right now. But in the future…”
Abed doesn’t answer except to take a deep, shaky breath and wrap his arms more tightly around Jeff’s body.
“You know, you can stay,” Jeff adds softly.
Abed answers with his face still smushed against Jeff’s skin. “I told you, I already accepted the job and can’t go back on it now. Plus my flight is already booked and it’s really annoying to try and cancel on such short notice.”
“I just meant tonight,” Jeff says with a chuckle. “You can stay here with me tonight. If you want.”
“Oh.” Yawning, Abed nuzzles deeper into the space between Jeff’s shoulder and neck. “Yeah, I can do that.”