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There’s something I need to tell you. Sit with me at lunch tomorrow.
It had been around six in the evening when Rachel had received the cryptic text, and it had been on her mind ever since. To be fair, many of Abed’s texts were at least a little cryptic (she wasn’t a big user of emojis and all caps either, but the rarity of even a colon and bracket smile made his tone often difficult to interpret), but this one especially.
She and Abed had been dating for almost three weeks now, though it felt like a lot longer, and it had been… really nice. He was really nice. He always suggested great movies for them to watch, they enjoyed ranting about the Star Wars prequels together, and when they held hands she never had to feel bad about letting go when her hand started getting sweaty because she knew he was probably about to do the same. And they had fun together. Just the other week, Abed had reminded her of their plan to go on a date while pretending it was part of a bet. Other than the waiter attempting to get into an argument with Abed about Die Hard , it had gone so smoothly that after their scripted fight and emotional combined apology and confession culminated in a kiss, they received a round of applause from their fellow diners.
In some ways – a lot of ways, really – what she had with Abed was one of the best relationships Rachel had ever had. Sure, things had got off to a rocky start, and then he hadn’t called her for months and hidden round a corner every time she’d seen him at college. But still, the feeling she’d had the night they met, the feeling that with Abed, she could be just herself, with no explanation necessary, had not faded for all the time they’d been dating. Was that love? Probably not, not yet at least, but being with Abed just felt right.
“It’s you and me against the world,” he’d once told her, and she thought it might have been a reference to a movie, but the words rang true.
And yet, a lot of the time, she felt like Abed was only half there. They could be talking, laughing, but part of him was absent, somewhere else. Last week, he’d convinced her to watch the first season of Inspector Spacetime with him (she’d only watched the episodes from the last few years, and the terrible special effects and subpar acting led her to the conclusion that she’d been right to) and despite him insisting it was his favourite show, he appeared to be hardly paying any attention to it. Throughout the episode, he just stared off into the distance, a glazed-over look in his eyes, and when she asked if he wanted any popcorn, it wasn’t until she repeated his name at least three times that he snapped out of his trance.
After thinking things through, she’d decided that although she was becoming concerned, whatever was going on probably wasn’t her business, and if it was something he wanted to share with her, he’d do it of his own accord. Maybe that was what he was planning to tell her today, she wondered as she entered the cafeteria. There was only one way to find out.
“Afternoon, Agent Nadir,” she said in a hushed voice as she slipped into the seat across from him. “I decoded your message. What did you call this meeting for?”
Abed looked up at her with those bright brown eyes that she could just fall into. “I never thought I’d say this, but can we just be you and me right now?”
She nodded. Oh God, this was serious. “Sure.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, as I think it’s important you know…” He paused, seeming to stare straight through her as his brow furrowed slightly. “I’ve been lying to you.”
Rachel’s heart pounded in her chest, running the worst case scenarios through her mind. All those times Abed’s focus had drifted elsewhere, had he been thinking of someone else? Or was this to do with why he had ghosted her for so long? What if he had found out he had a terminal illness and only a few months to live, and had spent their time apart wondering whether or not to spare her the pain of a dying boyfriend?
She yelled at her brain to shut up. This was reality, not a tragic movie that would have everyone reaching for the tissues. And Abed had never struck her as the type to cheat, and though she didn’t like to toot her own horn, she considered herself a pretty good judge of character. She would let him explain. “What do you mean?”
After another pause that seemed to last an eternity, Abed said, “I am not the same person you met last year.”
At first, she felt relieved that her concerns had been refuted. Then, confusion washed over her.
“Excuse me?”
Abed seemed to hardly take on her response as he continued, “I mean, I’m effectively the same – this isn’t a Doppeldeaner situation, though there did used to be someone at Greendale who looked a lot like me, and a couple of seasons ago an evil version of me from another timeline took my place, but I haven’t been replaced by either of them, I promise. Still, I’m not an exact copy of who I used to be.”
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, her head spinning. “If you’re not Abed, or the Abed I used to know, who are you?”
“I’m still Abed,” he clarified, “just a clone version. Do you remember when we all played Hot Lava?”
She nodded. When it was announced that Abed had set up the college-wide competition, she’d been reluctant to join in. This was the guy who’d promised to call her then not returned a single one of her texts; why should she join in with his game? But her friends convinced her that it would be fun, and wouldn’t winning a comic worth fifty thousand dollars be the best way to get back at him for ditching her? Not that she lasted very long in the game – within the first hour she’d been pushed off a table by the Ladders teacher (who she felt had an unfair advantage), giving her a bruise on her leg that took a couple of weeks to fully heal.
“I remember.”
“And do you remember why I decided we should play it?”
“It was because your friend was leaving, right? That was how you said goodbye to him.”
Abed nodded, then shook his head. “Yes and no. I actually got us to play Hot Lava because…” He trailed off, and Rachel had the feeling that if Abed was more prone to tears he’d be blinking them back. She reached her hand across the table and he laced his fingers with hers. She gave him a small smile and he mirrored her expression before telling her the whole story: how he’d set up the game because he had started seeing lava everywhere, how he felt completely unable to let Troy go but how he had realised that the only way to stop seeing the lava was to let him leave.
“So Regular Abed let himself fall into the lava, and both him and Troy were cloned so that they would both be okay with Troy leaving. That’s why I’m not the same Abed you met last year. I have all the same memories, and basically the same personality, but I still felt it was important you knew. Partly because I lost some of my emotionality in the cloning process so I could cope better, but I don’t want that to affect my relationship with you.”
“Abed.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with that–”
“I didn’t,” he interrupted. “That’s what I’m trying to say. If I was still Regular Abed, I’d never have recovered from Troy leaving, or convinced him to stay, which would have ruined his character arc. I exist so that I’d be okay with him leaving.”
“Okay,” Rachel conceded. “Well, I’m sorry Regular Abed went through that, and I hope that you are really okay now, but…” She searched for the right way of phrasing her next words. “If it ever turns out the cloning process didn’t go completely smoothly, I’m here if you want to talk about it, Clone Abed.”
“Just Abed is fine,” he said, “but thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, you’re okay that I didn’t tell you I’m not Regular Abed anymore?”
He looked so utterly genuine, and it made her heart ache for him. “Yes, please don’t worry. I’m just glad I know what’s been weighing on you. Besides, Regular Abed took me on one date and never called me back, so I might even slightly prefer this version of you.” She wrinkled her nose playfully. She’d more or less let him live that misstep down, but she couldn’t resist teasing. “No offence to Regular Abed.”
A smile ghosted over his lips. “I’m sure there’d be none taken.”
Rachel smiled. Yet, thinking about it, there was now something weighing on her mind. “Actually, can I ask you something about that?”
“Sure,” said Abed.
“I totally understand if you’d rather not get into it, but did you – Regular Abed, I mean – not calling me have anything to do with Troy?”
Abed froze. “What do you mean?”
She was swimming in the deep end and she knew it, but she’d gone too far to return to shore now. “I mean, it’s clear that Regular Abed cared about him a lot, and I’m just wondering if they were friends or… anything else?” Since the night they met, Rachel had got the feeling that Abed wasn’t straight, but a couple of weeks ago she’d mentioned she liked the hoodie he had on and asked if the bi stripes were intentional. He’d replied that they were.
“Cool,” she’d said. “I’m bi, too.”
“Cool,” he’d agreed, and that was pretty much all they’d said on the matter.
“They were best friends,” Abed said now, and before Rachel could clarify, he continued, “I know that’s not what you meant.” He was silent for a moment. “I think Regular Abed always sort of hoped that their story might be a romance, but then Troy started dating Britta, and he knew he had to accept that their bromance would never lose the ‘b’. That was when he met you, and he really liked you. He meant to call you, I promise, but then Troy and Britta broke up, and he didn’t want Troy to feel like he was leaving him at his most vulnerable, and then he wondered if maybe…” He trailed off once more, his unsaid words hanging in the air between them.
Rachel nodded, giving his hand, which was still entwined with hers, another squeeze. “I totally get that.” All of a sudden, she regretted being so irritated with him for not calling her. Of course, he could have still at least texted her with a quick apology, and she had no way of knowing the explanation for his actions back then, so her feelings were valid. Still, knowing the context she didn’t know how she could be mad at what Abed had done.
“Was Regular Abed in love with Troy?” The words came out before she was even aware she was thinking them, and she regretted them as soon as they were out of her mouth. How was Abed supposed to answer that? Did she want to know? Abed gave her a glance that seemed to go on forever before giving a single nod of his head.
She nodded back, then asked, her voice hoarse. “Is Clone Abed?”
For a moment, that appeared to stump Abed, but then his gaze hardened and he shook his head. “No. At least… No. I can’t be. That’s what the cloning was for.”
“I thought it was so you’d be okay with him leaving,” she whispered, and the crack in his voice when he replied, “What’s the difference?” caused her physical pain.
“Forget I said anything,” she said quickly.
“No, I…” Abed swallowed. “Can we talk more about this later?”
“Of course.” Her words seemed to release him from some invisible constraint, and he visibly relaxed. Her lips quirked into a smile, and after a final squeeze she let go of his hand. Hers was getting sweaty.
The rest of their conversation could wait. She knew that she had more questions, like what would happen when Troy came back, if Abed even expected they’d still be together at that point. The thought made her stomach churn a little, but something told her that, however that conversation would go, everything would turn out okay. Like he’d said, it was the two of them against the world. She’d be okay even if it turned out that she wasn’t the only one on Abed’s side.
After lunch, he walked her to her next class and she kissed him on the cheek.
“Are we still on for movie night?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. With how they were acting, it was like their entire conversation didn’t happen. And yet, something unidentifiable had shifted between them. Not necessary in a bad way, as Rachel felt like the jigsaw pieces of their relationship had shifted into place a little bit, even if the picture itself was still blurry.
That night, as they sat side by side watching Back to the Future , Rachel realised that she loved Abed. Not romantically, not yet, but in the sense that she wanted only the best for him and would do whatever she could for him to be happy. Even if that meant, eventually, letting him go.
Things would work themselves out, she was sure of it.