Page 176 of The New Place

“Yeah, I’m good. I think. Not really, I guess. Um. You weren’t at your house or Pat’s, so I figured you’d be here.”

“I was working,” Abbot says.

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother.”

“Can I sit?”

Absurdly, Abbot has the desire to walk around his desk and pull the chair out for Ned, just to make sure he feels fully welcomed. Or maybe that’s Abbot’s urge to be close to him, to bridge this terrible distance hanging between them.

Ned’s in his work clothes still, and he keeps a hand over his bag, as if protective of his laptop and whatever else is in there. Paper, it turns out to be when he opens it. He hesitates, then sets it on the chair. Then he picks it up, sits down, and puts his bag and papers on his lap instead.

He’s nervous. Abbot registers it with the same slowness he’s processing the sight of him. It’s late. Far later than Abbot should be in his office, and late for Ned to have driven up here.

But here he is, fidgeting with the strap of his bag and looking around Abbot’s office like he’s interested in the details of this room he’s seen plenty of times.

“What happened?” Abbot asks.

“I’m trying to be less of an absolute jerk,” Ned says.

“What?”

Ned lets out an abrupt laugh. “I need to say a couple things? If that’s okay? And I’ll wuss out if you stop me, so please don’t say anything because I really don’t want to do this.”

Abbot’s stomach turns. He doesn’t want to do this either, he’s sure, because whatever Ned is going to say looks like it’s awful. “Ned⁠—”

“No, no, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s pretty bad, actually. But it’s not bad-bad, you know?”

“No,” Abbot says carefully.

“I love you.” Ned nods, like he’s satisfied with those words, and the tension in Abbot’s chest eases slightly. “Just listen, okay?”

“Alright,” Abbot says.

Ned gives him a look. “That’s talking.”

“Sorry,” Abbot says.

“Okay.” Ned takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. I just—I talked to Steve. I just called him while I was driving up, and he said he can talk his wife into waiting to list the house for a bit, so we can figure our shit out first.”

“What do you mean?” Abbot asks. “Ned, it’s fine. I told you⁠—”

“Yeah, it’s not fine,” Ned says. “I can’t live with my parents and not with you. I’ve known that for a while, and haven’t admitted it to myself, and it’s been killing you, and that’s really shitty of me.”

“Ned—”

“Nope.” Ned holds up a hand to stop him. “Not a word. I have to do this, okay? I told you that you have to talk to me, but that means I have to say some things too. Abbot, if you want to live together, I need to give you the whole picture and tell you exactly what you’re taking on, which I absolutely don’t want to do, and honestly, I’m not going to blame you if you go running.”

Running? From Ned? Away from him? Abbot opens his mouth and then quickly shuts it when Ned grabs a sheaf of paper from his bag.

Ned looks more scared than Abbot’s ever seen him. Peggy falling from the monkey bars and Ned in a dead sprint across the playground. The car sliding on ice last winter, Ned’s hands white-knuckled on the wheel. Baxter as he’s declined these last weeks, and Ned’s eyes dark as he looks down at him, clearly trying to will him better.

His dissertation defense, too, and before that, sitting in this very chair in Abbot’s office, defiance and fear in his expression.

Ned clears his throat, then clears it again as he starts to lay the papers out.

Abbot stops him with a hand over them. “You don’t need to do this.” His half of showing up, Claire had said. Abbot can ask for more. Ask for what he needs, and even expect to get it.