Chapter Text
Abed’s morning had started with lumpy milk and an empty bag of Lucky Charms. He figured it couldn’t get much worse than that, but then his favourite shirt was in the laundry, and he found a cup of special drink that he’d clearly forgotten about because it was growing a new species on top of it. He grimaced at the sight, scrunching his eyes shut as he poured it down the sink and soaked it in hot, soapy water. On top of all that, Abed had slept poorly, so his brain was hazy, and he felt like he was looking at the world through a dirty camera lens. Despite the off-putting inconveniences, he pushed through until he stood in the group study room, three minutes early, just as he liked it. He was the first to arrive, as he often was.
After pulling out his usual chair, he sat down and flipped open his bag to pull out his textbook. He’d already done the homework- of course, he had- but he opened up to a random page and pretended to read. The words bounced around the page, and Abed could’ve sworn his vision was slightly blurry from the weariness. He leaned closer, but that only made it worse.
The next person to rock up was Annie, and she waved politely at Abed. The rest soon followed, with Jeff being the final person to arrive a cool, casual 22 minutes late. He was wearing oversized, round sunglasses, and his greeting was a subtle nod.
“Partied too hard again, huh?” Britta asked, lips quirked up in a smirk. She always enjoyed Jeff’s suffering, something she had once referred to as schadenfreude. Jeff groaned in response. Abed liked watching the pair, especially with their adoption of the will-they-won’t-they trope. When he called them out for it in season 2, it had been one of his favourite moments. However, in that moment, Britta’s tone was too high-pitched, so Abed buried his head in his hands to drown it out. The day had already been unpredictable and uncomfortable enough, and just when he thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, Abed heard a deep voice. It took him a second to process it, as it didn’t belong to the seven people sitting in the room, and he knew he hadn’t spoken himself.
“I bet he was drinking to forget,” it said. He turned in his seat and immediately froze as his eyes fell upon none other than Evil-Abed, the version of himself from the worst timeline. He was standing in the doorway, stroking his beard. His eyes were dark, and he wore a smirk that was not dissimilar to Britta’s, except his was much more evil. Abed looked back at Jeff, his heart pounding in his chest, because he was at least 97% sure he was actually at Greendale, not in his Dreamatorium. Evil-Abed wasn’t supposed to appear outside of simulations. As his body began to shake and his right eye began to twitch, Evil-Abed added, “Drinking to forget how annoying you are.”
It was fine. It was totally fine. Abed rubbed his sweaty hands against his thighs and swallowed thickly. Annie said something, but she sounded distant. His stomach churned with the undeniable urge to vomit, but he was glued down in his chair. After his stop-motion hallucination that one Christmas, he figured his brain was abnormal, but seeing an evil clone of himself from an alternate timeline? He was pretty sure that was an indication of a full-blown psychotic breakdown.
“They all hate you, you know?” Abed tried his best to ignore Evil-Abed, but his stare burned his skin. Abed did what he did best when a meltdown was incoming: he rubbed his hands a little quicker against his trousers, and he rocked his body in time with the rubbing. He knew the movements would earn him some weird looks, but it was the only way he knew to comfort himself. The movements made the world spin, but dizziness was much more preferable to seeing his evil counterpart in a place that was supposed to be safe. He scrunched his face up and looked down at the table as his heart hammered violently in his chest. A lump arose in his throat, and he put a hand over his mouth in case he vomited.
Something touched his shoulder, and he jolted out of his seat with wide eyes and heavy breaths. When Abed glanced back, Troy was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows and a frown so deep that he could have buried himself in it. Evil-Abed walked behind him with a sick smile on his face, but Abed kept his gaze on Troy’s chin so he wouldn’t have to look at him. Maybe if he pretended Evil-Abed wasn’t there, then he’d go away. Abed didn’t need to make it a whole A Beautiful Mind thing. He could just wait for Evil-Abed to get bored and disappear, and it would all be perfectly fine. Abed hunched over, body shaking so much that he felt like a ticking time bomb.
“Are you okay, Abed? You look really pale,” Troy asked, voice soft like a teddy bear or a warm blanket. Normally, Abed loved that he cared, but at that moment, he hated it because he wanted to tell Troy about what he was seeing. He knew that wasn’t the best idea, especially when the rest of the study group were still present and he’d already narrowly avoided intervention after the stop motion Christmas.
Clinging to Abed’s anxieties, Evil-Abed shook his head and muttered, “He doesn’t really care. He’s asking out of obligation. He doesn’t want to have to deal with one of your tantrums.”
Abed ignored Evil-Abed and glanced at the floor, hyper-focusing on some crumbs from a pie Shirley had probably brought in. He forced himself to stop rubbing and rocking as his right eye twitched again. He could still feel Troy’s glassy gaze on him, so he nodded his head. He was fine. He was totally fine. There was no need to worry anyone, when he was most likely just sleep-deprived from a few too many late-night movie marathons.
In his head, he had two options: he could either stay and pretend to be normal or make an excuse to leave. Feigning normalcy with a clone of himself staring at him and playing with his anxieties sounded like the worst thing to do, so he blurted out, “I think I’m coming down with something.” He grabbed his bag from where he’d hung it over the back of his chair and darted out of the room at speeds that surprised even him.
Evil-Abed must have followed, or maybe he had developed the ability to teleport, because he was still there when Abed stumbled into a supply closet. It was barely big enough for Abed on his own, so Evil-Abed was pressed right up against him. It made the tiny space even more claustrophobic, which rendered all its comforting properties, such as the strong smell of cleaning products and, more importantly, the absence of any other human beings, redundant. Somehow, Abed found the room to hug his legs and bury his head in his knees. He rocked as much as he could, whilst muttering the names of episodes in his favourite TV series: Inspector Spacetime. It was his routine for when he felt a meltdown coming, except he wasn’t having a meltdown: he was pretty sure he was having a psychotic episode. He wasn’t sure how effective stimming was when he was hallucinating. Regardless, he rocked and recited with the hope that the moment would pass and Evil-Abed would vanish into a puff of smoke, as if he’d never been there at all.
“Don’t you get it?” Evil-Abed asked after Abed named the sixth episode. Abed didn’t look up, but he continued reciting. “This is exactly why your so-called ‘friends’ don’t like you.”
Scrunching up his eyes, Abed continued to ignore Evil-Abed, still clinging to the hope that he’d go away on his own. There was also a chance that not looking at him would make him less real, though maybe he’d just regressed and lost his understanding of object permanence. He said the name of another episode, louder that time.
“Aren’t you curious why they aren’t coming to check on you? It’s because they don’t care, Abed. They don’t care about you. They don’t care about us.”
“No,” Abed murmured. He lifted his head and hardened his gaze. “They know I need space.” They knew about Abed’s meltdowns, and he’d told them a million times that the best thing for them was quiet and space. He’d reassured them that meltdowns passed, he just needed to be on his own with some noise-cancelling headphones, Inspector Spacetime and enough room to stim. That was why they didn’t chase after him when he ran out of the room; not because they didn’t care.
“That’s the stupidest thing ever. They know you crave attention, and they refuse to give it to you. That’s why they’re not here.”
“I don’t want attention. I told them to give me space when I have a meltdown. They clearly care because they listened,” Abed snapped, making Evil-Abed throw his head back and laugh like a villain in a movie.
“Oh, really? If you didn’t want attention, why’d you make such a dramatic exit? You could have just walked out of there casually, but no, you chose to run so that everyone would watch you and worry about poor little Abed.”
“Shut up. I had to get out before everyone started looking at me.”
“You tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
Abed huffed. For a second, everything was silent, but then he spoke up again to ask, “Why are you here anyway? Am I dreaming?”
“I’m here to protect you from them. They don’t care about you at all, and they’re going to hurt you.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. They care.”
Evil-Abed lowered himself so that he was in the same position as Abed, but with his back against the door. He folded his arms and clenched his jaw as he stared up at the light. “Do they really, though, Abed?”
“Yeah, they gave me space… like I asked them to.”
Humming, Evil-Abed tapped his fingers against the hard floor to the beat of the Jaws theme. “Did they give you space because you asked? Or because they couldn’t be bothered to come after you?”
Abed buried his head back into his knees because he was pretty sure his friends cared, but he didn’t have any concrete evidence to back his point up.
Part of Abed even wondered whether he subconsciously craved attention, and whether that part made him do things like run out of the room or have tantrums, as Evil-Abed had suggested. Britta talked about the subconscious a lot; its role in behaviour and how it’s influenced by things like childhood trauma. The thought made his stomach flip, and his eyes burn, so he just stayed quiet. Evil-Abed leaned up against the door as he continued to hum the Jaws song. Abed covered his ears with his hands to drown it out.
-
Abed couldn’t sleep. He could feel Evil-Abed’s gaze on him, like a shark eyeing up its prey. He stared at the ceiling, body tense as he tried his best to ignore Evil-Abed’s presence. When multiple hours passed and he was still wide awake, Abed pulled himself up as quietly as possible (so he didn’t bother Troy on the top bunk) and headed out into the kitchen. He opened one of the cupboards, but it was still devoid of Lucky Charms. He shut it again and grabbed his bag from where it was hanging over one of the chairs. He pulled out his noise-cancelling headphones and put them on before grabbing his laptop. He opened up the file for his favourite movie: Kickpuncher. He’d already seen it a million times and could recite most of the scenes word for word, but it never failed to make him feel better. He hummed the theme tune and flapped his hands slightly, despite knowing Evil-Abed was judging his every move. All he had to do was pretend Evil-Abed wasn’t there until he disappeared. It would be fine. It would be totally fine, as long as he watched the movie and got on with his life like normal.
Halfway through the film, Abed felt his eyes getting heavy. Just as his head was dipping and he was about to drift off, Troy appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. His lips moved, but Abed couldn’t hear through his headphones, so he pushed them around his neck and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you awake?” Troy repeated. He followed it up with a long yawn that was almost cartoonish.
Evil-Abed bent over to whisper into Abed’s ear, “He doesn’t actually care. The light from the kitchen probably woke him up, and he’s mad at you.”
That made logical sense, especially since Abed didn’t have the confidence to distinguish whether Troy’s facial expression was one of concern or irritation. His eyes were thin, and he was frowning (but that may have been because he was tired– it didn’t necessarily have to be a sign of irritation). After realising his silence was a red flag, Abed replied, “I couldn’t sleep.”
“How come?”
“You should tell him he snores too much or moves too much in his sleep. That would be funny.” Evil-Abed grinned and folded his arms, as if the situation was supposed to be amusing. Abed ignored him. His right eye twitched, and he moved his hands to hold the end of the table as his body began to tremble. He could feel Evil-Abed watching him, and it only made him shake more as sweat built up on his forehead.
“My brain’s too awake, I don’t know. Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet.”
“Bor-ing! He knows you didn’t try shit. You turned on the bright light, and you made tons of noise getting down from your bunk. You wanted him to wake up so he’d give you attention.”
It was extremely arduous to ignore another human being (or whatever Evil-Abed was) talking into his ear, so Abed gritted his teeth. He tilted his head and muttered, “That’s not true,” as quietly as possible.
“What?” The wobble in Troy’s voice was commendable evidence for him being concerned, rather than irritated. Alongside that, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his frown had expanded, but what confirmed it for Abed was his shiny eyes.
As if to deflect from Abed’s realisation, Evil-Abed snarled, “You’re attention-seeking again. Talking to yourself like a maniac.”
Abed blinked with unnecessary force. He fiddled with the cable of his headphones by twirling it around his finger, knowing Troy was analysing his every movement. He wondered if he subconsciously craved attention again, and the thought made a lump appear in his throat. He bounced his leg up and down and tightened his grip on the table until his knuckles were pale. “Nothing,” he then croaked.
“You didn’t wake me up anyway. I had this wild dream that we were fighting aliens in space. I got shot by their laser beams, and that woke me up,” Troy explained, pulling out a chair and sitting beside Abed. He held out his hand, palm side up, but Abed just stared at it blankly.
Evil-Abed hummed the Jaws theme tune again. Abed couldn’t help but tap in tune against his thighs, his breath unsteady.
“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
“See! He thinks you’re weird! Everyone does. Even your dad. You’re a weirdo, Abed.”
“I’m fine,” Abed said through gritted teeth. “As I said earlier, I think I’m coming down with something.” Abed forced out a fake cough to back up his words, but Troy still appeared sceptical. He retracted his hand and fiddled with the bottom of his pyjama shirt, refusing to make eye contact.
“But you don’t seem sick. You seem…”
“Freakish? Annoying? Like you’re being a drama queen?”
Abed’s eye twitched again. Troy glanced up at the ceiling light. His eyes were glistening, so Abed forced himself to look away before he got emotional, too. “You seem agitated. Like something’s bothering you. Is something bothering you?”
As the Jaws theme continued, Abed glanced at Evil-Abed. He was smirking as he hummed. Frankly, it was cartoonish villainy, but Abed didn’t expect anything less from his hallucinations. They came from a brain hard-wired to think in movie and TV references, so they were bound to fall victim to cheesy tropes.
“Nope.” Abed popped the ‘p’, like people sometimes did. Evil-Abed’s smirk became a grin, suggesting that he liked Abed’s answer.
“If you tell anyone about me, they’ll lock you up, and we both know how you feel about doctors, Abed.”
“Are you sure? Friends don’t lie, remember?” The line hit Abed as if he’d just been shot through the heart. It was taking everything in Abed not to start anxiously stimming, but he didn’t want Troy to catch on to the fact that he was lying and being a terrible friend.
“It’s only fair. He’ll be an even worse friend when he leaves you.”
“Yep.” Abed’s right eye twitched again, and his body trembled as Troy stood up and turned to walk out, but lingered in the doorway. Before he disappeared, he said, “Abed, you can talk to me about anything, you know? Absolutely anything. I’m not going to judge you ‘cause I care about you a lot.”
“You can’t talk to him. He’ll call you crazy, Abed. You have to be careful.”
Abed bit his lip and nodded his head as his eyes darted around to look anywhere but at Troy. Then he whispered, “Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” as if that made his lie of being fine any more believable.