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Like most things in his life, Abed eventually found himself questioning Troy’s existence.
He didn’t trust himself. Didn’t trust his own brain to give him accurate information. Good things never lasted this long for Abed unless he was making them up. And Troy was one hell of a good thing.
He stared across the apartment at his friend, watching him flit around from here to there, studying him for any sign of unreality. Hoping to god he wouldn’t find one.
Because if he did, if Troy wasn’t real, then that meant that he would lose him.
The thought made him want to throw up. He didn’t want to live in a world without Troy. He wrung his hands in his lap.
Troy looked over at him, seeming to notice his distress. “Buddy, you good?”
Abed nodded mutely. Troy walked over anyway.
“You sure? You look kinda anxious. Remember, friends don’t lie,” he reminded him.
Troy’s face was creased with genuine worry. Abed didn’t know what to do other than continue to stare at him, to wait for him to disappear or glitch out or phase through an object or start trying to get him to do something bad, like Evil Abed always used to.
But Troy wasn’t Evil Abed. He wasn’t even Evil Troy. He was safe. Abed knew this, in his brain. But his brain, historically, could not be trusted. His hands shook. Troy’s concern seemed to grow more and more the longer Abed took to answer.
“Abed?”
He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to speak. “Sometimes,” he muttered, “I can’t tell if things are real.”
Troy nodded, following along. “Like last Christmas? Or with Evil Abed when I went to AC school?”
Abed shivered at the thought. “Yeah. I usually know when I’m hallucinating. Like with Evil Abed. But sometimes I can’t tell. Like last Christmas. And I don’t--” He cut himself off, screwing his eyes shut and taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want to suddenly realize that the past three years have all been in my head.”
“Abed…”
Troy found his place next to Abed, and Abed took hold of his hand, grasping for a physical sensation to ground him to reality. Troy squeezed, just a little, just enough. Enough to reassure Abed that he was really there.
“I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “I’m real. I promise.
Abed bit his lip. That was exactly what a hallucination would say.
But he squeezed Troy’s hand back. He couldn’t trust his mind, but he could trust Troy. And if he said he was real, then he must be. Troy wouldn’t lie to him. Because friends don’t lie.
“I know,” he said.