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Abed’s throat’s a little dry when he wakes up in the top bunk. It’s a side-effect of the crying. Abed didn’t expect the crying.
He should’ve. It would’ve been right to expect to cry at his friend’s funeral, sitting in a stiff, black suit and staring at the wall. But, truth be told, things had been better without Pierce, for the most part. Pierce used to open his mouth and people would turn their heads away– and he didn’t care. He’d talk anyways, he’d spew garbage out of his crusty lips and he wouldn’t care if anyone listened. For him, it must’ve been a bonus to have an audience to his racist internal monologue.
But, needless to say, Abed didn’t cry at the funeral. He didn’t cry until they finished their polygraph test in the study room, the mysterious canister of vapor sitting on the table. And Troy had stared at his hands in his lap and he had said those damning words like the weight of the world relied on them.
I’ll do it.
And it did. It was worlds different than taking the easier option. It’s almost like Troy knew what he was doing when he said it, like he knew Abed’s throat would close up and he’d suppress the urge to get up from his chair in haste and go vomit.
He didn’t look at Abed, so maybe he did know. There’s no telling, anymore. There certainly won’t be telling once he leaves.
They went out to a bar after because things were tense and the spiky-haired polygraph man agreed to pay for their drinks. They slid into a booth and Mr. Stone slung his arm around Troy’s shoulders and pulled him in close, their mouths nearly colliding as he sang Troy’s praises.
Troy always lit up when people were nice to him. Sometimes it felt like he’d do it on purpose– say the cutest, coolest, smartest things, just to make Abed tell him that he was cute and cool and smart. But then again, that wasn’t it at all. Abed just had to clear the hurdle of realizing he was deeply, madly, abhorrently in love with his best friend. Being familiar with the friends to lovers trope, it wasn’t too difficult to come to the realization himself– but talking to others about it was a completely different hurdle.
Abed turned to make eye contact with Annie as he watched Mr. Stone get into Troy’s space, breathing his air, and the rest of the group slid out of the booth to let him go to the bathroom.
That’s when he cried.
It wasn’t a silent, emotionless cry like Pierce probably thought he might have endured as a result of being “fucked up in the head” or something along those lines.
He clutched the granite sink and he stared back at his reflection, his stupid shirt, his carefully slicked hair that he had done for the funeral. For some reason, it didn’t matter anymore. Not when Troy wasn’t there to witness it. He took big, heaving breaths as he watched the tears paint his face slick and wet. He furiously wiped them off and suppressed the loud gasping noises people usually make when they cry.
I’m not crazy, his brain helpfully provided.
When his sleeves were wet and stiff and ugly, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, only then was he done with his mindless tears. The ones that he couldn’t find a reason for. Maybe it was because there were too many reasons, but maybe it was because none of his reasons were truly justifiable.
Because Troy would never, never be his. And for some reason, despite Abed knowing it his whole life, it still stung to think about.
The door swung open. It wasn’t Troy. Troy was too busy basking in the praise of the polygraph dude, getting high on the affection. Didn’t matter who it was. He turned to soft-spoken words like a sunflower opening to the sun.
“Abed,” Jeff asked, voice smaller than usual. He peeked out from behind the oak door and furrowed his brow. “Abed, what’s up?”
“Go pee, Jeff. I’m not looking, I promise.”
Jeff looked to internalize this, and then nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Abed affirmed again, crossing his feet.
There was a pause in which Abed assumed Jeff was undoing his belt and relieving himself, and then he spoke again. “You’re not in here for no reason.”
“I’m here to pee,” Abed hummed quietly, which was satisfying Jeff’s statement, technically.
Jeff chuckled, a low rumble. “For a good actor, you’re a horrible liar.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Abed,” Jeff sighed, zipping up his pants and moving to wash his hands. “You’ve clearly been crying. And it’s about Troy. Am I right or am I right?”
“My options are identical.”
“Don’t dodge the question.”
“Then I would have to say you’re right, because that’s my only option.”
Jeff wiped his hands off, the crunch of the paper towel ringing in Abed’s ears as he struggled against thinking about it, thinking about Troy and Troy leaving and everything about Troy. “Are you in love with Troy, Abed?”
Jeff was right in front of him, his eyes bright and deliberate and insistent as he stood inches from Abed’s face, looking him straight in the eye. And there was no point in denying it, suddenly. It wasn’t a schoolboy crush where you dodged them in the hallway, chest tightening in anticipation, and tried to keep it a well-obscured secret so you could save yourself from embarrassment for the next four years you saw them. Troy was leaving. The next day. Nothing to lose.
Not crazy.
“Abed?”
“Yes. I am.”
And that’s how he ended up slumped on the bar, nursing a beer and talking about Troy to Jeff, like he was some manic pixie dream girl he met at the airport and couldn’t stop thinking about. The bar had just about cleared by then, and the reddish light was the only thing that illuminated their faces. They were tired, and Abed was describing Troy like Jeff had never met him, which must’ve been bothersome. But Jeff listened .
“And it’s just,” Abed slurred, leaning back into the wooden counter. “If he wanted dinner, I’d make him food for the rest of his life. If he wanted to kiss me, I’d propose. And that’s what I’m scared of. I love him so much that it’s not that anymore. I love him badly. Horribly.”
Jeff smiled at him. “I’ve been there.”
“But he’s the only person that’s him. Once I fuck it up by telling him I love him, it’s over. I lose him. He floats away. I can’t– I can’t do that.”
Jeff leaned in, his breath smelling of whiskey and beer and more alcohol all jumbled up. “Do it Winger-style. I’m talking, grand romantic gesture. Make him make the choice to stay and love you.”
“Winger-style? When have you ever done a grand romantic gesture?”
“Mm, touché.” Jeff clinked his glass against Abed’s bottle, laughing brightly as they nearly missed each other. “Look, I’m just saying. Mastermind up a plan like we all know you can. Lead him straight to the confession. Throw him the bone, let him take it. Make him realize what he’s doing and stay. Take him home, make love to him, and, bam .” He slammed the counter with the flat part of his palm, grinning appropriately for his level of drunkenness. “Everyone’s happy. Court adjourned.”
Abed winced, albeit probably internally. “Don’t say that ever again.”
“I won’t.”
They stumbled home after that, trying to fathom taxis in the desolate suburbs of Colorado. Jeff texted Abed that he was home safe and Abed unlocked the door as quietly as humanly possible. No doubt Annie and Troy were soundly sleeping, worries cast away in their dreams. That was how things worked, at that point. Abed highly doubted this would be the last time he’d have an emotional conversation with Jeff and barely make it home. The future was looking bleak .
Abed drank some water and popped a Tylenol and stayed up, drawing up what felt like a plan. The bones of one. Maybe. A game, a way to elicit feelings, to bring them to the surface, to throw the bait into the water and watch what happened. But then, this would put the ball in Troy’s court, and Abed was not prepared to handle that.
So he went to bed, just to escape it, putting in strenuous effort to get to the top bunk. Might as well imagine that Troy’s breathing evenly below him for one more night.
And now he’s back to square one, awake.
And his throat hurts. And so does his head. But he’s sober. Painfully, horribly sober. He looks over the edge of the bed, over, over to the LED clock. Troy got him one for his birthday after the daylight savings incident. Hey buddy, he had said, grinning like he was proud of himself for the selection. This way, you don’t even have to know when the time unreasonably changes now! You can just ignore it entirely! It’ll do all that by itself!
5:06 am.
I’m not crazy, Abed reminds himself. At least Troy never thought so.
He sits up, rubbing his neck. He reaches for the blanket, wraps it around his shoulders as he gets down, and shuffles towards the closet where his clothes hang. There’s not enough warmth in his skin to chase away any goosebumps forming on his arms and down his torso. His head hurts.
He takes his time searching for his flannel. The right one, maybe, would make a difference. If Abed looked nice enough, maybe he’d be irresistible. Troy would cling to his collar and launch onto his tiptoes and kiss him like Abed was his oxygen. He would taste of a sharp sweetness and tears, probably, because he’d likely be crying at the sheer force of his attraction. Abed could pull him in by the waist and feel his body heat. Troy was always warm. They would sit there in the bruising light of the morning, swaying in a hug, arms around each other like they were grappling for something— energy, heat, or maybe just each other. Even without him near, Abed feels a gentle warmth in his chest at the thought of Troy.
He throws on a white shirt and moves for his navy flannel that smells like comfort and fabric softener. But then, there’s Troy. The sun. It’s impossible not to feel radiant when Abed’s in Troy’s blast zone. He projects his luminescence onto Abed, coming to rest his face in the crook of his neck when they embrace, where Abed can feel his smile. Sunny. Pretty. Abed grabs his orangey flannel, carefully places his copy of Space Clone into his backpack, and takes off.
He walks to school because he has the time. From the apartment, it’s pretty much a twenty minute walk. Sometimes, Annie insists they should brave the time commitment on sunny days, but since Troy has stopped training, she’s finding less and less reasons to combat compiling their scraps of money for gas and taking her clunky car to school.
The sun beats down on Abed’s face as he walks along. It’s not as friendly as the sun usually is, its brightness instead presenting a constant reminder that too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. Troy had that revelation back in season one, which Abed had graciously guided him to. They jumped the shark regardless. It took until now for the side-effects to kick in. There’s no going back for me, no remedying my obsession , Abed wistfully thinks, relaxing his face and letting the sun burn dark spots into his retinas. I’ll be like this forever.
The bandana and the notebooks and Space Clone shift uneasily in his backpack, a reminder of what’s real. Lately, the lines have been blurring together, some dystopian unreality kicking in to replace what he once knew. His notebook crinkles in his backpack and he can breathe again. Abed hastily reaches to grab it, yanking the zippers as he walks. He flips a couple pages and there it is. He reviews his course of action.
OPERATION: TB
Apparently, TB was a tasteless name, given that it was used to mean “tuberculosis” in the forties. Abed had considered for a second that he’d rather be in a sanatorium than doing this , but then abandoned the thought for ethics.
Plan A: Revelation
Gamemaster ABED hides in the study room, between the two bookshelves in the left corner. When subject TROY frantically looks for him, he comes to the revelation that he loved gamemaster ABED the whole time, and they passionately kiss.
Plan B: Hide and Go Seek – Initial Game
Gamemaster ABED offers an insane amount of prize money for the winner of Hide and Go Seek. He tells the Dean a location that he will be hiding in, and then leaves the Dean to be the seeker. While the entire student body hides, gamemaster ABED brings subject TROY to the vents with him, where they will stay still and silent the whole time, preferably in close quarters. Even if they don’t win, subject TROY will slowly realize his attraction to gamemaster ABED (hopefully) and give in.
Plan C: Hide and Go Seek Champions
Once everyone has been found, gamemaster ABED will announce their leaving the vents, strategically placing subject TROY before him so he is found first. Then, gamemaster ABED will win his own copy of Space Clone. Subject TROY will realize how awesome he is and swoon. If the Dean doesn’t announce who’s been found, giving a play-by-play of the game, see Plan D,
Plan D: Hide and Go Seek Forever
Because the gameplay isn’t announced, subject TROY and gamemaster ABED will never have any idea if they have truly won or not. Because of this, they will have to stay in the vents forever, sporadically leaving in the blindspots of the fake security cameras to retrieve food from the vending machine located about 500 meters away. For players JEFF, BRITTA, ANNIE, and SHIRLEY, it will be easy to detect their nearness, given their locations being precisely tracked on gamemaster ABED’s fully-charged phone. For the rest of the players, TBD. Either way, the game must last until 4 o’ clock pm, leaving one hour after subject TROY’s kidnappers arrive for them to get confused, call subject TROY’s number several times, and give up.
Plan E: ?
Subject TROY leaves. It turns out he was no different than the unremarkables.
Abed nods to himself, closing the notebook, and internally sighs at the shadow Greendale’s archway casts on his face. It’s so bright, and so, so warm for the season. He swings open the door, ready to step into a waking nightmare, until he looks down.
Lava. A waking nightmare in every sense of the phrase.
There’s lava everywhere—he’s standing on the pavement, barely, it’s all he can smell—everywhere. It covers the ground, the street that he was just walking on, the charred, uneasy scent wafting into his face. He sees things in the smoke. Things that look like people and monsters but aren’t quite there, only in the shape of things that look like things. The droplets of lava that the floor spits up lick across the sky like fingers reaching out for the moon. They are licking the earth now too, burning everything in sight.
I’m not crazy, Abed thinks, feeling the heat rise.
This is for Troy.
He’s careful with his footing. He latches to the door frame, swinging until he gets enough momentum to catapult onto a spare desk in the hallway. Typically, its metal legs would be melted from the substance, but it’s surprisingly stable. He uses the crappy ceiling, lifting up the foam boards and swinging on the thin plastic bars, when he can’t find an object to stand on.
“Dean,” he hisses, clinging to the top of the doorframe with his feet on the handle, when he gets to the Dean’s office. The Dean is busying himself with a framed photo of a dog, and he yelps when he sees Abed. He’s also knee-deep in lava, sloshing through it as if it’s not singeing his legs off. Abed wonders why. “I propose a schoolwide game of–”
The floor is lava. Hide and go seek is no longer on the table. But then again, the floor is literally lava. Abed smiles to himself.
“The floor is lava.”
“Oh, hot lava?” The Dean asks giddily, patting his desk for Abed to sit. “I see you’re in the spirit, Abed. But– wait . The last time we conducted a schoolwide game, we lost our entire budget cleaning.”
“Paintball requires paint,” Abed reminds him. “The floor is lava uses resources we already own.”
The Dean tilts his head patronizingly.
“It’s for Troy.”
“Oh, because he’s leaving,” Dean hums thoughtfully, pressing his hand to his chest and deeply, theatrically swallowing.
Maybe the floor isn’t lava for the Dean because Troy is leaving and he doesn’t care .
I’m not crazy.
“Okay, well, that sounds fun– why not?”
“Cool,” Abed musters.
The game starts off fun, even if the situation’s a little dire. Plans A, C, and D are out the window by nature of the switch in genre, which means Abed must win using sheer tactics. He starts inventing travel by chair. Centipeding, inchworming, various names of critters.
The lava bubbles harsher when he finds a grinning Troy. He’s in the study room with Jeff and Annie, who have already rolled up their sleeves and slid on bandanas. They’re playing into this deeper than Abed thought, or maybe they just enjoy the game.
Jeff smiles at him, clapping him on the back when they get close enough to do so. His smile is unbridled, his worries cast away. Abed wonders if he remembers anything about their conversation last night at the bar. It’s unlikely.
“Jeff, Annie, you pair up,” Abed orders them, because things might go awry if they put someone else in charge. “And Troy—” he turns to meet Troy’s gaze, and his breath catches in his throat. “You come with me.”
“Cool,” Troy agrees, a whisper. He pulls his sleeves further over his hands and grins. His eyes sparkle in the pale light of the study room.
They inchworm for a while. Troy talks about a universal translator that Annie got him, and how it can tell him practically anything. He even shows Abed how to use it — he whispers Troy and Abed are awesome into the device and it regurgitates the statement as Troy y Abed son geniales .
Everything goes fine past then, mostly. They save Jeff, Annie, and a delusional Britta from the locker boys, but they have to leave Britta behind for the sake of the game. Also for the sake of their sanity, because Britta talks about things she couldn’t possibly understand: fantasy, childishness, delusion . Abed leaves her on a garbage can and takes Troy to Shirley Island with him. A place of refuge from the lava, from the outside world.
They sit there for quite a while. Abed focuses on the ground. There’s stuff stacked everywhere– tables, chairs, various furniture piled on the ground, blankets spread across the ground, to perhaps make the scenery more homey.
They sit on the ground– or some sort of wooden table, and it creaks a little. Troy assumes his position, head propped on Abed’s shoulder. He intertwines their hands and Abed feels so warm under his touch, eyes fluttering a little at the darkness of the space and the quiet atmosphere. He covers Troy’s right hand with both of his own.
“Look at Jeff and Annie,” Troy hums, pointing with his free hand. The two of them are practicing their broom-jousting stances. “It always makes me feel icky looking at them. Annie was so young, y’know?”
“I know,” Abed admits. “I had to pair them together for the sake of convenience, otherwise I would’ve lobbied for Jeff and Britta.”
“Makes sense. Do you think they’re gonna get married?”
“I don’t know. They hate marriage. Do you remember Shirley’s second wedding?”
“ Yes ,” Troy giggles, rocking back and forth. Abed feels the sudden urge to take Troy by the waist and set him in his lap, but he’s silent instead, removing his free arm to stretch across Troy’s shoulders. “They were so drunk .”
“Yeah,” Abed whispers fondly. That was back when he thought he and Troy were gonna grow old together. The thought is sickening. He breathes steadily still, reminding himself to stay on the ground. “It was so weird to be normal.”
“Yeah– and to think we’ll have to think about marriage soon? That’s crazy.” Troy takes Abed’s hand in his and toys with it a little, running his delicate touch over the length of his fingers and drawing circles around his nails.
“My dad said to marry a friend, and then you get tax benefits and you get to live with someone awesome.”
“That’d be awesome ,” Troy agrees, perking them up and leaning impossibly closer. “We could marry each other, y’know. We could do a movie kiss. You could be Han again. What if I wore a dress? Wait– that’d be weird. But it’d also be awesome . Even though my dad wouldn’t come if I married a guy. Not that I’d marry a guy! Not that I wouldn’t marry you for– tax… benefits.”
Abed glances over. Troy is pleasantly flushed in the outside glow of the lava.
“Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“Don’t worry.” Shirley walks by, cloak swishing, and Abed turns before he can think harder about kissing Troy on an altar. “I need to confront Shirley about what I suspect is the orb,” he whispers.
I’m not crazy , his brain hisses.
“Ooh,” Troy whispers. “Cool.”
Abed confronts Shirley with his suspicions, and she instantly deflects, plastering on a warm smile while she does. The orb could mean winning for them.
But as soon as he applies more pressure, Troy catches him by the arm. His words are a blur, except for when he says it . “I don’t want my last day to be a day where everyone hates me,” he murmurs.
“Last day?”
Abed can feel the heat from the lava wafting inside. He suddenly wants to strip off a layer, wipe off his sweat, and step straight into the sweltering heat. Troy’s not impressed. He’s not amazed. He doesn’t think Abed’s spectacular enough to stay by him, to have a stupid fairytale wedding.
Abed’s mom left anyway, what does he know?
His throat feels dry.
His eyes dart around the silent room.
And then everything explodes. He hears Britta’s voice ring through the darkness with some sort of megaphone, and if he looks at the right angle, he can see Britta’s complete outfit change. She’s got her hair oddly parted and oddly curly, and she’s suited up in all black, perhaps to emphasize her evilness.
Abed explains the situation, although it’s not a very sound explanation, to describe the way he intentionally left her for dead.
Everything from then on happens in flashes.
Jeff and Annie leave to take down the chair walkers, but they never come back.
Abed demands the orb.
It takes like ten minutes to inflate.
Troy and Abed board the orb.
Their bodies are so, so close.
Troy looks over at Abed. His eyes are so glassy. “I love you, Abed.”
It’s all Abed can do not to cry right then and there.
Hickey pops their orb.
They fall down the stairs.
And then they’re clinging to the shelving in the basement and the metal digs angrily into Abed’s hands. This isn’t over.
I’m not crazy.
Abed sees the vent. Their sweet escape. Britta and Hickey will be here any minute now, with their accusatory fingers and black leather clothing. He instructs Troy to go there, to crawl through it and seek refuge in the metal maze. If only Chang offered them some petroleum jelly.
Abed goes to swing onto the shelf that Troy’s clinging to, but Troy doesn’t budge. He furrows his brow and bites his lip and shakes his head. “I say we take a stand here. I mean, someone’s gotta win sometime.”
“Not if we never kill each other,” Abed interjects. “Then we can play forever .”
Troy perks up again, and Abed has never missed a smile so much in the five seconds it was gone. “Right! Wait… Abed. The floor can’t be lava forever , I– the game’s gotta end.”
End. End. End.
Everything comes to an end.
Death scares Abed a lot for that reason. He used to wake up in cold sweat at the end, imagining opening a pearly white casket to find his mother, cold and dead, in there. She would cradle him in the dim light of his dinosaur lamp and assure him that she wouldn’t be going away for a long, long time.
Of course, that was what hurt most. Because when she did leave, it wasn’t a heartbreakingly irreversible act that severed them. It was her decision . Her decision to leave her son alone, working at falafel restaurants with a good dad that couldn’t replace a mom.
Abed doesn’t know what about him pushes people away. Maybe it’s that he’s crazy .
I’m not crazy, his brain whispers.
But I am, a louder voice responds. I am.
“It’s not a game for me, Troy. I’m seeing real lava because you’re leaving. It’s embarrassing. And I don’t wanna be crazy but I am crazy, so– I made a game that made you and everyone else see what I see.”
Troy lowers his head, almost out of deference, and Abed wants to fall right then and there. He sees Troy’s eyes droop. He sees Troy glance at the lava’s bubbling. He bites his lip.
Abed runs his mouth again. Troy won’t look at him.
“So the only way I can help you is by giving up my chance to… be one person?” Troy asks, and it’s not that the question is accusatory or rude but he looks so confused and hurt that it might as well be a punch to the gut.
Britta and Hickey bang down the stairs, hollering as they sled on a bookshelf with triumphant cries. Everything feels so far away. Troy’s saying something about him and Britta softens and then all the shelves are toppling like dominos and Abed swings to a pipe, feeling the lava underneath his feet, licking at his shoes.
He knows it’s not real. He does.
Troy reaches for his hand and Abed swings back, passing Troy the copy of Space Clone with a slippery hand. He’ll fall sometime soon.
“I’m not leaving, okay?” Troy pleads, still reaching for him, but that doesn’t matter. Abed’s so far gone now.
He stares down at the lava, hoping it stores some deeper meaning inside. And then he realizes the reason why everyone’s so okay with hopping on this fucking game for “fun” and “money” purposes, not being so competitive as to play it to keep Troy around. It’s not because they don’t care. It’s because they were able to accept it.
“I don’t think the lava’s here because you’re leaving. I think it’s here because I won’t let go.”
And then he’s falling, falling, falling, being engulfed by the orange liquid and laying down, submerged in what he was once so scared of. It feels almost good to be fake-dead.
He can hear Britta and Troy talking about cloning him. She places a useless box over his body and he feels the shade over his eyes. She’s sloppy. He’ll have to help her next time, but Troy’s never been a bad handyman. There’s a moment of silence, and then Abed breathes the cold air and stands. Britta and Troy grin at him.
They clone Troy too.
They go upstairs.
Troy wants to take one last look at the study room and Abed feels sort of like the world’s ending.
They stand on the cement. Abed makes sure he’s last in line on the stairs. He wants his touch to be the last one Troy feels, so it can be fresh on his clothes as he rides away in the boat stationed behind them.
But when Troy emerges into the sun in his tattered sweater, sleeves pulled over his hands, his face falls.
“I can’t go,” Troy says abruptly.
“Yes you can,” Annie coos, and Abed kind of wants to kill her for saying so.
“I can’t ,” Troy hisses, “I can’t. I—” and his body jerks into motion like he’s possessed. He approaches Abed, eyes big and shiny. Abed steps onto the top step so he can block Troy from the sun.
“It’s okay,” Abed chokes out. “This is what you need. You’re gonna travel. You’re gonna be awesome. This is the life you want.”
“But is it?” Troy mumbles.
“Isn’t it?”
“It isn’t.” Troy swallows, like he’s about to cry. “I— Abed, I want you .”
“Oh,” Abed hears Shirley gasp.
“I really love you,” Troy says. “I’m sorry. I just. God, I wish I knew how to say this without sounding dumb. I just– we were talking about marriage and I was like– it would be so awesome to marry Abed, right? And then I was like, that’s kinda gay, and then I was like, wait, what if I am gay? And then I thought, oh my god, I’m so dumb, ‘cause if Jeff can dispute the terms of the whatever and if I can marry my best friend for tax benefits, what am I leaving for? And I really scared you and I–”
“Troy,” Abed whispers, glancing over to see Jeff stifling a laugh. “I love you, too.”
“Okay, good, ‘cause I told you before and you didn’t respond and that was scary. Not that you have to love me, I mean–”
“Troy, can I kiss you?”
“Yeah.”
Abed leans down far enough to prompt Troy to tilt his chin up, and he feels Troy’s arms swing around his neck. He pulls Troy in by the waist, hands tight around him– he can’t let go, he never can. Not anymore. They collide and Troy’s lips are wet and metallic from the constant biting. Troy’s easy to kiss, he just opens up and lets Abed taste him, the tears all over his face, the little noises he makes. There’s little reverberations that echo into Abed’s mouth and he’s pretty sure he can hear Annie “aww”-ing but it’s all so distant.
“Home,” Troy breathes when they pull away. “Take me home.”
“What about the boat? Whenever someone changes their mind in a movie, they never cancel their previous arrangements.”
“Can we leave it to Jeff?” Troy asks, grinning. They both turn to a disgruntled-looking Jeff, who waves them off.
“Don’t stick around,” Jeff sighs finally. “I’ll figure this out. My goal today is to stay unaware of who’s giving and who’s receiving.”
Annie scrunches her nose. “I’ll– uh– I’ll text you, Abed.”
“Drinks at seven?” Britta asks, pointing to them. “Drinks at seven?”
Troy intertwines his fingers with Abed’s and smiles at him, turning his head to face Shirley shortly after. “Shirley?”
“I’m proud of you two,” she says, staring at the ground with wide eyes. “Don’t push it.”
“Home?” Troy asks contentedly.
“Let’s go,” Abed agrees.