yo! i'm thinking 2-3 chapters after this? honestly, this fic just keeps getting away from me!

thanks as always to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!

title taken from: "Taro" by alt-j

Dwight barged into their shared room, launching without preamble in a speech clearly hastily prepared.

"Normally I don't care about you or your personal life or your friends or the personal lives of your friends. But-"

"Gee, thanks."

"Let me finish."

"I am."

"No, you're-"

"I am absolutely letting you finish. You're taking too long. Hurry up."

"Jim! You're just - You're making this take more time than is necessary!"

"I don't know where you got that idea from, but-"

"Damnit Jim!" Dwight seemed close to stomping his foot, like a child. After taking a brief moment to compose himself, he continued, in a slightly more calm tone of voice. "Like I said, although I normally do not care at all about you, I have something important to say. That you probably don't wanna miss." He added the last part when his roommate made a show of rolling his eyes.

"You're got 10 seconds."

"I - But - Ugh, fine!" Dwight shook his head, looking a little mad. "Whatever, Jim." He then slung his (ridiculously overstuffed) backpack onto the floor, before rummaging through it furiously.

"Need a little help there, buddy?"

"Shut up." After a few seconds, he retrieved the object he had been searching for.

It was difficult to see from where Jim was sitting, but… Was that Pam's notebook?

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Just hear me out." Dwight moved, slowly, across the small room. Keeping eye contact with Jim so he could see what he was doing, he placed the book gently down on their desk. "I know you guys have been weird recently. And it's creepy. It's making you both so emotional, and-" he wrinkled his nose, apparently unable to finish the sentence. "Anyway. I thought maybe if you were reminded of how things used to be, you'd stop being such a Dummkopf."

"What?"

"German, Jim. It's German for "idiot." God, learn a language someday." He scoffed. "Idiot."

Jim found himself staring at the book for slightly longer than was perhaps necessary, and by the time he looked back up, Dwight was already halfway through the door. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To see my girlfriend. We're happy together. Unlike some people."

And with that, he swiftly left.

As the door swung shut, Jim was left with his thoughts.

Things were getting ridiculous.

After her (embarrassing, humiliating, definitely-shouldn't-happen-again) breakdown in front of Dwight, Pam had constructed a plan.

There was just - too much, of all of it. Too many emotions and feelings and wishes. Since It happened, she had simply pushed it down, refused to acknowledge it, and look where that got her. (Hint: sobbing in front of a person who was, essentially, a stranger.)

So, she would tell him. Everything. All the words she pent up, regrets she tried not to think about. She would tell him all of it, and then she would be free.

It was terrifying and exciting and strangely calming all at once.

The secret knowledge of what she was planning to do burned through her blood, filled her with a sort of adrenaline until she was pushing back her desk chair and jumping to her feet with a jolt. Now.

She hurried out the dorm room, taking off without direction. Rushing down the stairs - not enough time to waste on elevators! - speed-walking through the foyer, whizzing through the double doors leading to the grassy area just outside.

Gah. Sun blinding. What was she doing, again?

The panic seemed to slowly be setting in. (But that was fine, a little panic was all fine, just as long as she didn't let it interrupt her plans, everything was fine.) Nevertheless, she stormed on, focusing on the sound of her keds slapping against the concrete pavement.

She must have zoned out, because the next thing she knew, she was virtually knocking someone off their feet. "Sorry! Sorry, are you okay?"

The other girl nodded, shooting her a half-annoyed, half-accepting look before continuing on her way. Pam breathed a silent sigh of relief, though it unfortunately was short-lived. As she brushed herself off, she caught sight of another person, briskly making their way up the very same path.

Grey sweater. Blue jeans. Mop of brown hair.

Oh God. She wasn't ready for this at all.

Pam stood, rooted to the spot, simply witnessing Jim spot her, witnessing the flash of recognition across his face, witnessing his tentative steps as he moved towards her.

"Hi," he greeted.

"Um." She tried. "…Hi."

kudos to anyone who can spot the significance of the jotter/notebook!