One day since he was left behind.

One day since he was left behind and the floor is still lava.

That was an unexpected outcome of Troy's leaving. He thought that, after letting him go, everything would go back to normal. He thought that once Original Abed died and Clone Abed became the regular one, he could conceal his emotions and ignore that stinging pain in his chest, the one that's bugging him so much, the one he's convinced isn't made up by him but real, the one that at any moment might grow and grow and grow until it takes over him entirely.

He thought all that would happen but it's twenty-four hours later and everything's still the same. Clone Abed isn't as good as he thought. Becoming Clone Abed didn't solve all his problems.

There's one thing this new him has, though. He's equipped with shoes made of ceramic or titanium or anything that doesn't melt in lava. He's free to walk around, free to move, free to pretend that there isn't this great danger awaiting for him to stumble and fall. But the lava, like the pain, like the gaping hole in his very being, still exists. And maybe no one else sees it, maybe it's just his imagination, but that doesn't mean it's not real. Maybe it's all the more, because it's his and only his, because it's a truth for just him that no one and nothing else can alter.

Or, well. It's a truth that just someone could alter.

The floor is still lava and he's still so scared and so, so upset. But when there's a knock at his door, he ignores everything and rushes to answer because maybe, maybe, maybe it's him. Maybe he came back. Maybe he realized that he doesn't have to leave, that he doesn't need the money, that everything he has is right here, after all. Maybe he never left at all, maybe it was just Abed's imagination. Everyone always says life isn't a TV show, after all, and leaving on a boat with LeVar Burton isn't too real-lifey.

But at his door isn't Troy. At his door, with a large smile and hands holding fried noodles and her laptop, is Annie.

"Wanna watch Inspector Spacetime?"

He accepts just because he knows it wouldn't make much sense not to. By all means, he should be happy. His best friend left and he's not coming back for a year but still he has everyone else. His life isn't built around Troy – so then why does it feel like it? And why is he still so completely devastated that he left?

He should've told him. He realizes it now, but of course it's too late.

He should've told him. He should've known. Not because it might've kept him from leaving, not because he might've gotten his happy ending with him, but because he should've known. Why was he such a coward?

Hindsight is the most dangerous tool one person can be given. Most of the time, all it brings is regret. He's too fragile already to feel even more.

He accepts Annie's offer just because it wouldn't make sense not to. She's too sweet, making his favorite food and putting on his favorite show and trying to spend more time with him. But he watches silently, the room now void of his usual comments and observations. Annie sits next to him in what once was Troy's seat and he doesn't have it in him to tell her to movemovemove because you can't replace him so stop trying.

It's been a day since he was left behind and the floor is still lava and he's slightly safe from it but everything around him is burning. He knows it won't be long until he stumbles and falls and there's nothing to do but hope Troy comes back before it happens.

Twenty-three days since he was left behind

And the lava's still there. Twenty-three days of fake smiles, gaping holes and pain that spread from his chest, that's now so much worse. Twenty-three days of a disappointing clone and of trying to look happy because he doesn't want to upset his friends. Twenty-three days and everything's still the same.

Professor Hickey made him miss his movie but once he goes home, it hardly matters. There are barely any parts of his life he enjoys anymore and he thought that movie would be it, but in the end he's glad not to have gone to see it. He turns on the TV and, with unreal-life precision, it shows just what he needs to see. The Childish Tycoon was abducted by pirates.

Troy? is his first thought, because other than LeVar and his presence on the taken ship, the news say nothing. He takes his laptop and searches everywhere, but nothing can tell him more than that.

So he obsesses over it. There's nothing to do but hope and pray, so that's what he does. He clicks refresh every few seconds and he mutters to anyone, begging for help. And again he wonders how this is real life because nothing feels real right now, and he wonders if this isn't real life, if this is a TV show, if he can just do something like they do on TV and save him. He wonders if he could call 911, or the pirates, or take his own ship and rush to help Troy. He wonders if he could be that hero everyone roots for and, as he mindlessly presses refresh, his mind makes a self-indulging scenario where he saves his best friend from the pirates and, on a beautiful ship in the most romantic setting, he says those words. Then Troy says them back and they kiss and get their happy ending.

He presses refresh again and again and it feels like he spends days, weeks, months doing it. And nothing appears to calm him down. No one tells him, not for a moment, that Troy's actually fine. That the news aren't talking about him, but a different Childish Tycoon and a different LeVar Burton and a different boy that travels with him. That he's fine – his best friend, his other half, he's fine.

He glances at the lava, still burning down his whole world, and he thinks that it's so ironic. The lava will be the death of him. And Troy's – Troy's might be water.

Three hundred and four days since he was left behind

The past year has been crazy, crazy, crazy. But he expected it – their years at Greendale have never been too normal. Only, without Troy to counter it, the crazy seemed to grow – not only around them but inside him, as well. He keeps thinking, hoping, that A Change would come along and make everything normal again. That he'd wake up in the morning, that he'd blink once and the lava would just go away. Or that he'd somehow find a way to make it not matter. He tells himself that any day now it has to get better. But any day now remains any day now. And it never happens.

Three hundred and four days since he was left behind and it's still unclear what Troy's fate regarding the pirates was. Everyday, he tries to find more, but the few sites that covered the story have the same things to say. He can never find out more: bound to the land, to his job, to his house and friends, he can never go out to sea himself and make his biggest dream come true.

Now, it's not the same story. Last he thought about it, the story was complex and it ended in him and Troy kissing and confessing their love and being, finally, together. But now it's simple: all he wants is to find Troy. To lay eyes on him, even from afar, and see that, yes, he's here. He's breathing and he's moving so he must be alive and therefore, he must be fine. He doesn't need a hug, not even their special handshake – much less that romance-filled kiss he dreamt of. He just wants confirmation that his best friend isn't dead, that the pirates weren't too hard on him. That he's fine, so he can be fine too. That's all he wants, all he needs, and he knows that if he gets even just as much the lava'll go away, drowned by the same water that took Troy and that'll hopefully bring him back. He knows that if it happens, if Troy does come back or even just if when he presses refresh the internet finally shows him something good, his happiness'll reach levels he never even thought of.

Whatever else happens at Greendale barely matters to him anymore. He meets Frankie, who puts out the appearance of a mean businesswoman and he finds out that his friends aren't as nice as he thought but all the time he's thinking about him, about how he wants to find him and he wants to see him and he wants him to be fine.

Three hundred and four days since he was left behind and he counts down the rest until Troy should come back. But he isn't as filled with excitement as he thought he would be. When the calendar shows three hundred and sixty-five, he knows that, if not for Troy waiting by his door with arms open for a large hug and that exact same smile he had before he left, the lava'll swallow him whole.

Three hundred and sixty-five since he was left behind

He waits every moment for something to happen. He waits for The Change more eagerly than usual and he hopes until the very last moment. Since he woke up at midnight until the clock strikes the start of a new day, he hopes.

But Troy doesn't return.

In the dark, he looks at his feet. The shoes are worn out. When he takes a step, even with them, he knows he'll sink. Even these indestructible objects have reached their end. He takes them off. He feels indescribably tired.

In the morning of the three hundred and sixty-sixth day, the lava gets him. But he finds that even dying he can still pretend. When Annie opens the door and gives him a sympathetic smile, he feels forced to smile back. The pain has spread from his chest to... everywhere. Everything hurts. He's burning alive and every part of him feels like it. But he forces a smile.

Seven hundred and thirty days since he was left behind

He steps inside his new apartment all alone. He has to remember that this is his new life: there'll be no Annie, no Jeff and Britta and no Greendale. And no Troy, of course. It's been two years and it's still hard to get used to it.

He goes straight to the bedroom and sits on his new bed. He kicks his shoes off and sees the melted skin underneath. It's painful when he lies down. Seven hundred and thirty days and it still hurts. He's been avoiding every mirror. All he sees in them is a walking corpse. For so long, he's been just a dead man refusing to admit it to the world.

Los Angeles is a big city. Part of the reason he moved here was because he hopes people won't notice nor care about his madness.

He still refreshes all news pages, night after night. But he never finds anything useful. It seems that people just don't care about Troy, nor about his fate. It seems that they don't care about LeVar Burton either. Or they do, only there's nothing more to say than what's been said already.

He still has hope, if only a drop of what it once was. But he feels it fading, day after day. He knows it'll be soon that he falls and doesn't get back up.

Should've told him, he thinks bitterly, night after night.

He promised, he thinks bitterly, night after night.

And he knows Troy wouldn't back up on his promise. He knows him – his Troy, he would've done anything to make good on it. The thought bothers him more and more that maybe –

Did it never matter to him? Was what they had just Abed's imagination, or were they really best friends? Could they really have been more?

He cries, but even his tears can't seem to put out the fire that's burning him alive.

One thousand, five hundred and eighty-seven days since he was left behind

And someone knocks at his door. But he doesn't bother answering. He looks at the burning floor, burning house, burning self, and decides to let it burn. The name pops in his mind, but he's long given up hope.

One thousand, five hundred and eighty-seven days since he left it all behind

He knocks at the door with a heart full of hope and eyes full of tears, stories from his travels, endless excuses and the most amazing three words, all prepared. But no one answers.

One thousand, five hundred and eighty-seven days since he left it all behind and it's too late.