A few weeks into his time at Greendale, Troy made a rookie college mistake. He raised his hand to ask to go to the bathroom.
It wasn't a huge mistake, but he was pretty sure he should have known better. (But like, no one had ever told him? Why go on and on about how college "wasn't going to accept work like this, Mr. Barnes," but totally skip over this crucial information?)
And anyway, no mistake was small when it gave Chang the chance to humiliate one of his students.
"It's okay," said Abed afterwards. Troy was washing his hands and Abed was leaning against the sinks, fiddling with his phone. He'd joined Troy silently, ignoring the strange look from Shirley and Britta.
(Later, Abed would explain that they'd been through a plotline about that recently. He said it had been a "growing experience for Britta, but shouldn't nearly require that much attention from either of us, unless you've got some deep-seated issues I haven't figured out yet.")
In the bathroom, Abed continued talking, still not lifting his eyes from his phone. "His rant was inaccurate, anyway. You weren't disrupting a college professor's lesson plan because he's not a professor. Plus, I figured out while using that room's computer that his file labelled "lesson plans" is actually a Microsoft Word document that says, 'fuck bitches, get money'."
And that's when Troy had a realization.
A big realization. Also probably something he should have already figured out, but better late than never, right?
Troy looked up from the sink and into the mirror and it dawned on him that he was an adult. He was allowed to make his own decisions, and what those were didn't really matter anymore, because he didn't really matter anymore.
Well, no. He mattered, but not in the same way high school Troy Barnes had mattered. Here, people didn't have the time or the inclination to care what he did. He didn't have to raise his hand to use the bathroom because his teachers' were no longer paid to care about his attendance. His fellow students weren't going to deem his actions "lame" or "awesome", because very few of them knew he existed, and those who did were typically too wrapped up in their own lives to care about his.
If he pulled an all-nighter, it was a scholastic necessity, not something people would high-five him over. If he attended a party, it was because he thought it would be fun, not because his presence was expected. And if he decided to ask out his best friend, that was his choice.
Granted, he supposed it wasn't fair to say no one would care. His parents would definitely care. Nana Barnes was probably going to care straight to prison if he could testify posthumously. But it wasn't like they checked in on his friends anymore. If he said he was going out with friends and they assumed that meant he was popular, so be it. Even if "friends" actually meant "friend", and "going out" actually meant, well, going out.
And he suspected Annie would care. He wasn't sure, but she maybe liked him? Or she was just basking in his leftover high school coolness, which was a distinct possibility. Whatever it was, Annie would not find out about this, lest she was, against all odds, still in contact with some of the Riverside High kids who had once worshipped him.
But Annie was also smart, and cool, and Troy's friend, apparently. And she seemed like the kind of girl who knew stuff. So somewhere after awkwardly holding her hand and only-slightly-less awkwardly holding Abed's hand, he asked her for some advice.
Annie, say there are two friends and they're in the same class, and one of them wants to ask the other one out on a date. Like a grownup date, but within biking distance of his parents' house.
He was careful to specify the vibe he was going for - he wasn't sure exactly what he and Abed were doing right then in terms of actually being romantically involved, but if hand-holding, watching movies together, and casual references to "my other half" meant romance, an actual date was long overdue.
So, he borrowed her blanket, asked Abed to A Night Under the Stars, and swore that girl Randi in his math class to secrecy in exchange for lessons on sleeping with your eyes open.
—
Annie had crashed a fair number of parties in high school — read: every one she had ever attended — so maybe he should have seen it coming. Still, he couldn't hide his surprise when she showed up with flushed cheeks and an open mouth only to stop and stand silently in front of them, her hands fluttering in the air.
"Randi, uh, had a thing," he said lamely.
She gulped, and ran away with a "hmmph!". A minute later, she came back, demanded the blanket, and left again, leaving Troy and Abed sitting on the damp grass.
He turned to Abed and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, man, I don't know what's—"
Abed frowned and cut him off. "I saw Randi across the lawn with Quendra when we came in. I think she blew you off."
Troy's smile faded. "Yeah, I mean, maybe, but also I kind of… didn't ask her."
Abed nodded. "Gotcha."
A moment later, he added, "Actually I don't. Why are you lying to Annie?"
Troy bit his lip. "I— Um, I mean, I wanted, like, dating advice? But I didn't want to tell her who I was actually interested in, so I asked Randi to say we went out if she asked, but I totally should have known she would show up or something, so… I messed up, kinda?"
Abed was silent for a moment, blinking quickly. "No," he finally said. "Our friends don't seem to have any boundaries, but that's not your fault… Um, but I— I mean, do you—"
It was the first time Troy had seem him look flustered. It was kind of hilarious.
Abed made a frustrated noise. "I think this would be easier for everyone involved if you kissed me now."
For once, Troy didn't hesitate.