I may have done some damage there, Abed mused, not for the first time, about Troy. This time it was the aftermath of their 24-hour marathon of Life on Mars (UK version of course), and it had been nearly ten minutes since the final episode ended, but Troy was still crying and Abed was somewhat at a loss for what to do now. This wasn't supposed to happen, he had even checked the reviews. They'd said the ending was "triumphant and uplifting" at best and "bittersweet" at worst.
Troy was holding his hand so tightly that it was a little painful, and Abed winced in spite of himself, and they were leaning heavily against each other, like the world was closing in on them. Troy sniffled.
"I mean I get it. 1973's like home, and it's an adventure and all that, and the real world's not really real to him. But it's still sad."
Abed tilted his head a bit, and his dark eyes caught Troy's. He was listening, so Troy took a breath and went on,
"It reminds me of you, like you have this whole other world you don't always tell us about. And I don't want you to… I don't know. Just never leave, okay?"
"Okay." There was (as per usual) no indication of tone in Abed's voice, so he instead lent the gesture sincerity by nuzzling his head closer to Troy's. It was an invitation of sorts, like a lowering of his usual guard about touching.
Troy's breath caught as he edged just close enough that he could finally feel himself taking up every last inch of Abed's space, there on the couch. Legs tangled together, hands intertwined, Troy's cheek drying on Abed's soft flannel-covered shoulder. Good. There was no way that Abed was going anywhere now. If he were ever to tire of the real world like Sam and choose to retreat back into a fantasy world he'd cooked up in his head (it would probably look like a hybrid of Inspector Spacetime and a John Hughes movie), this closeness would keep them together.