Work Text:
Abed stands at the door of his Dreamatorium.
Maybe it’s the stony darkness of the apartment, maybe it’s the quiet that’s only interrupted by an occasional creak from next door, but in any case, the Dreamatorium feels different. The space looks more chambered, the walls and floor less inviting. More like a cave than a playroom. Abed steps forward, and almost steps back when he gives more thought to what he’s about to do. He really needs to nail this, carry everything out in just the right order. He can’t just quit and try again next week, that’s not how this works.
Don’t blow it. He’s waiting for you.
Abed makes his way across the room, and takes his place with his back lightly pressed against the wall. He likes the pressure against his skin. It grounds him.
His eyes close, and the scene becomes solid behind them. “Engage simulation, exterior of Greendale, January 23rd”. Abed opens his eyes back up, and sees his surroundings start to shift. The floor becomes pavement, and the ceiling softens out into a pale blue sky. Abed walks forward, and as a part of Greendale forms behind him, he decides that the simulation’s reached all the specifics and shades of the real thing. With one exception.
He’s the only one here.
There’s no Annie, Jeff, Shirley, or Britta anywhere to be found. Abed has the whole place to himself, and it’s terrifying, because the pavement and blue sky aren’t the only things that have appeared. There’s a boat. Abed knows there’s a man who should be standing near it, and he will be there soon, make no mistake. But first someone needs to put him there. Abed’s not sure he can do this, but he knows he must.
Abed closes his eyes, and thinks of Troy. Thoughts of a smile, thoughts of laughter, thoughts of a warm embrace. Thoughts of everything. He tries to revisit every memory that stands out, even the ones that hurt, because this moment needs to count. His version of Troy needs to count. He envisions his hair, his eyes, the hoodie he was wearing on that last day together, and Abed finally figures that he’s ready.
He opens his eyes, and immediately falls backward with a gasp.
He wasn’t supposed to be that close. Abed had expected Simulation Troy to stand at a distance, because after all, this isn’t the real thing. But the closeness wasn’t just startling, it was familiar . Abed exhales. This is okay. He prepared for this, told himself beforehand that something might go slightly out of his favored lane. He softly exhales, and musters up a soft smile.
“Troy, before you go, can I tell you one more thing?”
Simulation Troy smiles, and Abed’s put off because that smile should have at least a handful of somberness instead of an almost plastic cheeriness.
“Sure buddy, what is it?” Simulation Troy asks, and Abed’s taken aback at hearing his voice again for the first time in a month. He notices it sounds a tad fuzzy, like he’s calling into a radio show, but Abed can’t waste too much thought on that right now. This is his moment of sink-or-swim.
“I just…wanted to say how much you mean to me. I know you have to leave now, because you’re becoming a man and making your way in the world, but please remember that I’ve never felt this close to someone.”
Abed’s heartbeat starts to raise. He’s always struggled to put his feelings into speech, but this in particular feels almost painful. “I don’t think anybody’s ever felt this comfortable around me. Please promise you won’t forget me, okay? Because I’ll never forget you” Abed shakily adds. He’s aware that he's almost never this raw with his words, but something about seeing him right here in a space so otherwise vacant sets something off. Abed’s usually so calculated and careful with his simulations, but this is starting to not feel all that imagined. Even with his slightly distorted voice and artificial smile, Troy feels real. Abed looks at him with that same trust he’s always known with him, and finishes his speech.
“Troy, you’ll always be my best friend”.
Abed feels a sense of satisfaction settling in. And then, something terrible. Troy isn’t saying “thank you” or “you’re my best friend too” or anything Abed had been expecting. Instead, he’s just shaking his head, that same grin from before now wilted. Abed’s eyes widen as panic sets in, and it only grows with what Troy says next.
“Abed, I don’t think that’s all you want to say”.
The words alone are already unnatural coming out of Troy’s mouth, but it doesn’t take long for the implication they carry to stab Abed within an inch of his life. His heart rate rises to a feverish level, and he starts to push himself away.
No. No no no. It isn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to keep this under control. It wasn’t supposed to become this real.
Troy looks down at him, a smile returning to his lips. There’s a genuine kindness in his eyes that resembles the real Troy, and it makes Abed feel sick.
“Don’t be shy, alright? Tell me the truth. Friends don’t lie to eachother”
Abed’s heart drops. It’s too much. He fumbles away from Troy, and as he does the scenery dissolves. The pavement becomes just a regular floor, the sky fades as it reveals the ceiling, and Greendale vanishes to show the Dreamotorium’s back-wall. Abed finds a corner and sets himself down. He tries not to look at Troy as he walks closer.
You can’t tell him anything. He’s not real, but you still can’t tell him anything. If you say it out loud, it’s all over.
Troy’s standing ever so close to Abed now, his smile still sweet and plastic. “Abed” he says, his voice becoming hazier with every word. “You can come on the boat with me. We can talk about everything.”
Except, you can’t, can you Abed? You’re filled with longing, but not the kind you see on TV. You have the longing that wounds. Your heart is broken, Abed, and it’s happened before but never quite like this. There’s so much in this moment, and you could never put it to words. Not with him. Not now.
Abed feels like crying, but he’s so frozen to the spot that he can’t let anything out. Strangely enough, he hopes for a shutdown, because at least then he’ll feel somewhat numb to all this. Just ignore him, he tells himself.
“I want to be with you, Abed. I love you, and I know you do too”.
Abed can’t ignore that. However, he tries his best. He tries not to think of what could have been, what already was, and how soft Troy’s lips would have felt against his. Not a kiss. Anything but that.
That would reveal too much, wouldn’t it? You’ve been in love before, but never with this much on the line. He’s your best friend. He’s your whole world.
Abed stays like that for a while, his face resting against a wall and eyes averted from Troy’s beckoning hand. As the minutes dwindle by, Abed pushes himself to not have a meltdown, and he succeeds. Barely. Eventually, Troy’s image starts to flicker, the skin of his outstretched hand looking more like static by the second. He starts to fade, and Abed shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to see it, not even out the corner of his eye.
And then, after a while, Troy’s gone. Abed sits, his cheek still resting on the graph-patterned wall, and breaths.
He knows he’ll have to go to class in the morning, have to make conversation like nothing’s happened and not tell any of this to anyone. He has to keep all this inside.
And with that, the tears finally start to flow.