Chapter Eight — Matutinal Malaise 101

"Urgh ..." Jeff said, awakening on Troy and Abed's couch. He squinted. The dazzling light that came through the curtains blinded him. His head felt as if it had been literally squeezed between a rock and a hard place, and as if somebody was using a hammer to shatter said rock on said hard place.

"Urgh?" he asked himself, not expecting an answer. He tried to stand up, but to no avail. He tried once more, this time successfully. The world immediately started spinning, so he sat down again. Looking at himself, he saw that he was wearing pajama bottoms. Slowly regaining some memories of the night before, he drily commented, "Urgh!"

He attempted to reconstruct the evening. There were many dark spots in his memory, but seeing the empty tequila bottles, the Twister board and Poker cards, those dark spots soon became clear. He remembered the Dark Knight, the game of Strip Poker, the existence of a home-made sex tape with Britta. He recalled that his two friends were really as hung as he had heard. He saw the empty bottle they had used at Truth or Dare, whereupon the memory of having been dared into ringing at the neighbors resurfaced in his mind. He saw the laptop and a used kleenex and remembered that they had jerked off together.

And he remembered that Troy had professed his love to Abed.

He remembered that the past evening would change the relationship of Troy and Abed—if they remembered.

He made another attempt at getting up. The world had calmed down. He stretched, yawned, scratched his stomach and his bottom and, still half blind, went staggering to the faucet to drink something non alcoholic. On the way, he stubbed the same toe at the same place he had stubbed it the evening before and cursed loudly. Then he drank water from the tap and lurched towards the bedroom to get his clothes and go home.

He quietly opened the door so as not to wake his friends, when he was surprised by a beautiful sight: Abed was sleeping in Troy's bunk, Troy right next to him, or better: right on him, for he, blissfully smiling, rested his head and his arm on Abed's bare chest.

Jeff thought about making a photo of this view (after all, he had been photographed twice by them), but he remembered that Troy had hidden his phone and that he had no idea where. Well, he remembered that it was near the "Dreamatorium Repair Kit", but this was no help at all. He didn't want to go home without his phone, but he saw no reason to wake them. Deciding that it made no difference whether he slept in their apartment or at home, he staggered back, dropped like a sack of potatoes onto the couch, pulled the blanket over his head and immediately fell asleep again.

He awoke some time later. Abed had sat down on the couch, eating cereals. Judging by the way his hair was tousled, his eyes were half closed and his movements uncoordinated, Abed probably had neither noted that he had forgotten to add milk to his fruit loops, nor that he had sat down on Jeff's legs, nor that he was still nude, nor that he was staring at his laptop's black screen.

"Good morning," Jeff tried to say, but ended up uttering nothing more than, "Urgh."

Abed grunted something which probably was meant to mean ‚Good morning'.

Jeff was still not ready to begin the day. He decided to ignore everything happening around him—including Abed's genitals, which he clearly felt through the pajama bottoms—and closed his eyes again.

Around noon he was woken by the doorbell. Pulling away the blanket and looking around, he saw Troy, opening the door and welcoming the pizza delivery guy, and Abed, picking up the garbage left from the day before, wrinkling his nose as he picked up the used kleenex.

He heard Troy's saying, "I hope you like pizza for lunch, Jeff."

Jeff put a hand on his stomach, noticed how empty it felt—he hadn't eaten anything since noon the day before, not taking popcorn into account—, and said, "Right now, I'd eat anything."

He sat up, put on the pajama top and waited a moment before he felt ready to brave the day. Then he helped Abed clean up while Troy set the table.

They didn't talk much during lunch and just listlessly commented on the cheese on the pizza and things like that. On the one hand, they were still very hung over (though his friends had recovered a lot better than he, probably because they had half his age), on the other hand, there was the issue of what had happened the night before. That was something that had to be talked about.

And when they still hadn't breached that topic when the pizza boxes were empty and their stomachs full, he decided that he would open the discussion. He cleared his throat and, still not sure whether they remembered, began, "So ... yesterday turned out to be quite an evening ..."

Nobody disagreed.

But nobody agreed either, they didn't say anything.

But they had to remember; because otherwise they wouldn't be so taciturn.

"Oh come on, don't be ridiculous. What are we so ashamed about? We jerked off together, big deal.—I don't know about you, but I liked it. In fact, it was awesome; I wouldn't mind doing it again."

Still no response from his friends, both stared blankly at the table.

"Or is it about Troy? Is it about ..." He wouldn't say it out loud, just in case they didn't remember.

"No ..." Troy slowly said, looking with a smile at Abed, who returned the smile. "Abed's alright with me loving him. It's ..." He fell silent.

Abed completed Troy's sentence. "It's you, Jeff."

Jeff was taken aback. "Me?" he almost screamed. "Why?"

Was there something he had forgotten? Did he do something to them?

He strenuously tried to remember anything that might have been lost in the the booze.

Had he insulted or maybe even injured them? But why would he have done that?

Had he somehow outed Troy to the study group or his family? He didn't know where his phone was, but he might have used his friends' phones for that. Though why would he have done that?

Had he done something only Troy and Abed would consider as an insult? Like saying that if they used the Dreamatorium for jerking off and the like, it would become a Cream-atorium?

He suddenly felt sick, not because of the alcohol and the pizza; he felt pangs of remorse for something he might have done and forgotten afterwards.

Then Abed said out loud what was so horribly threatening to their friendship. "It's your penis, Jeff. It's so small." While Troy burst into laughter, Jeff's ire was set aflame once more. Abed added, laughing, "We can't hang out with someone who can't hang it out like us."

Those idiots had pulled his leg.

While he was glad that there was no harm done to their relationship, he felt the urge to grab his wannabe friends and bash their skulls against one another. But he just said, amicably insulting them, "Go fuck yourselves, idiots." And when they had calmed down, he asked, "So … you're not going to become an item?"

Both his friends shook their heads, Troy more slowly than Abed.

"I regret not being gay," Abed said, "I'd love to be able to love Troy—"

"Not as much as me," Troy interjected with a sigh.

"—But maybe it's better that way," Abed went on, "more of something good doesn't always become something better."

"You said the same thing when I moved in with you, but that turned out great."

Abed smiled at Troy. "Yes, it did. It turned out to be one of the best things in my life. But think of it this way: We can keep what we have, and what we have, our friendship, is most awesome. We already have a Straight Flush, what are the chances of getting a Royal Flush?"

Troy took some consolation in this. "Yes, what we have is most awesome," he said, trying to take Abed's hand into his own, but just before he touched it, he shied away and instead ran his fingers through his hair. Abed didn't notice that.

And Jeff was thinking about something else: When Abed mentioned the Straight Flush, Jeff recalled something else from the night before; Jeff had had a Straight Flush and Abed had claimed that he held two sixes and had folded without showing his hand—but Troy had conjectured that Abed might—for whatever reason—have been bluffing.

Something in Abed's voice now roused in Jeff the suspicion that Abed was bluffing now as well, that he in fact loved Troy. It would certainly be thinkable, and Jeff could think of a bunch of reasons why Abed wouldn't admit it.

Abed could fear that his friendship with Troy, as strong as it was, might not be able to resist true love. He could be afraid of his father's reaction—Abed's father was not the most pleasant person, Jeff knew from experience. He could be afraid of a possible loss; considering how he dreaded the idea of losing Troy as a friend, how horrible would be for Abed the idea of losing Troy as a lover? And, less thinkable, Abed could fear that he would be so happy with Troy that the both would shag until they'd starve.

Jeff decided to ignore these thoughts. Instead, he asked Troy the one thing that intrigued him now the most, "Are you going to come out to the study group, or shall we keep that a secret?"

Troy looked at Abed, then back at Jeff and said, "Give me some time. I'll tell them sooner or later."

"Don't be too afraid," Jeff said. "I suppose that Shirley and Pierce will be a little bit reluctant at first and will make old-fashioned statements and jokes, but deep down, they don't really care about that. They'll just need some time to digest that piece of information. Annie might be a bit difficult, seeing how she was once head over heels into you, but you know her: In the end, she'll be happy for you. And Britta will be overjoyed, of course, because she'll have a gay friend, so she can prove to everybody just how tolerant she is."

"Thanks, Jeff," Troy answered smiling, "but they aren't the problem. I don't know how my family will react. That's what I fear."

Jeff smiled back at him and said, "Don't worry too much. I don't know any of them, but I'm sure it won't change their feelings. And even if the worst should happen when you tell them, just remember: You'll always have your friends."

"That's right," Abed said, and half mechanically, half amicably put his arm around Troy's shoulder.

"Thanks, guys," Troy said, smiling cheerfully at Abed.

A little later Jeff felt like going home, like having a shower and ridding himself from the residues of all the liquids that had soiled his body in the last hours. He kindly refused the offer to use the shower of his hosts and went into the bedroom, where he changed back into his street clothes.

As he was tying his shoelaces, he suddenly heard his phone's signaling the arrival of a message. A few moments later he had found it, lying on top of Troy's wardrobe: on a box with the tag 'Dreamatorium Repair Kit'.

Of course, he was curious about its contents, about how his friends would repair their magic room if it ever broke down.

He put his hand on the lid to open it, but before he did so, he stopped.

It was absurd, but he couldn't do it. He felt ridiculous, but he liked the Dreamatorium better not knowing how it "works". And besides, it would probably be just some of that strange paper that lined its walls.

But whatever was inside, he decided that this was a mystery that had to stay a mystery, that the Dreamatorium was something that had to remain magic. Not knowing all the answers, doubting what might have been—wondering if Abed was bluffing—, wondering is sometimes a curse, but at the same time often puts spice into life. Philosophy begins in wonder, he remembered having read long ago.

He put the repair kit back, stared curiously once more at it, then directed his attention at his phone. He ignored the thirteen messages from the Dean, and read the three from the girls. All three concerned the photo of his ringing at the neighbors.

Shirley wrote, "You know that's no behavior for someone like you, or for anyone else. Apart from that: The Lord has granted you a very nice behind!"

Annie wrote, "Jeff, you could get arrested!" followed by a blushing smiley and "But I like it." Jeff's heart skipped another beat as he imagined real Annie blushing.

Britta's message read as follows: "Ypi are sto;; ficlomg jpt/ Moce cpcl/" With a smile he put the phone back into his pockets, imagining Britta, drunk, trying to write something on her phone, but being distracted by the mental image of Jeff's hot body (and by a lot of booze).

Making sure that he had forgotten nothing, he went back into the living room to say his goodbyes.

"Well, I'll be going."

Jeff opened the door, stepped out, turned around, and said, "See you Monday."

"See you, Jeff. Don't overstrain your back," Troy said, hugging Jeff.

"¡Hasta luego, Jefe!"

Then the door closed, and Jeff went home, wondering what he might have found had he opened that box.

That's all, folks! Feel free to leave a comment; I'd love to hear your opinions!