Jeff had spent his entire Saturday at home, crafting assignments for the next month, clearing through his schoolwork for the rest of the semester. Once that was completed, he scoured through his textbook to write the final that didn't need to be drafter for another week and a half, just before Winter Break. As a last attempt to further distract his wandering mind, he'd even typed up his syllabus for the next semester, over a month away. It was astounding to realize that with all that he'd done to keep himself somewhat up-to-date for his classes, all he'd needed was one day of unyielding focus to get a jump on the entire semester.
He had no other homework to pore over, until the new week started and left him with papers and assignments to grade. He'd left himself without a single work task, and it was only 9:00 P.M. on Saturday. He shuddered to realize he'd have nothing to keep him busy on Sunday. Even though his mind felt exhausted and strained, he wasn't anywhere near tired enough to go to bed. His preoccupied thoughts couldn't entertain mindlessly watching T.V. What he really wanted after more than eight hours of nonstop paperwork, was a stiff drink. Still, he wasn't willing to resign himself to break his sole self-imposed rule. No drinking alone.
Britta would be working tonight and try as he might to force away falling back into intoxicating familiarity, he ached to feel the small semblance of normality. Maybe some part of him longed to yield to the company of one of his oldest friends, even if he knew with absolute certainty that Annie would be the first thing she talked about. But maybe that would be easier to have someone else sum up the highlights of the past three and a half years of his once favorite person's life. Maybe, it just felt safer to talk about her with someone else, than to think about her for endless hours in the cruel echo chamber of his mind. At the very least, he could stand a companionable silence after working out the majority of his frustration earlier that afternoon. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his wallet and keys and decisively marched out of his apartment.
Despite being the peak bar business hours on the weekend, The Vatican seemed surprisingly slow, only a handful of cars in the parking lot.
"Well, well, Winger." Britta jovially chided at his entrance as she poured a beer on tap for some young frat boy.
"Yeah, yeah." He smirked in spite of himself. "After hours of paperwork, I think I've earned a drink." He sat up on the barstool directly in front of her.
She passed the young man his mug before readying Jeff two fingers of MacCallan neat. "You know, you missed quiet a lunch, today. Frankie finally caved, and she and Mel regaled us on the tale of their meet cute. And cute, it was. Frankie blushed multiple times."
"Really?" He took a sip, rotating the glass in his hand. "I didn't even think she could be bashful." He thoughtfully shrugged. "Kind of sorry I missed it. After four years, I know next to nothing about her, besides the fact that she's dating Mel. Frankie hates to share any personal information."
Britta emphatically nodded. "I know, right?! To be fair, it was Mel that spearheaded the story, though I think she was charmed into it by how sincerely eager Annie was when she asked. That girl must be the best interrogator the F.B.I. has ever seen."
And there it was; it had only taken a minute before Annie's name was lingering on the air he breathed. It didn't sour the taste of his scotch, but his jaw instinctually clenched all the same. He shrugged with a sigh, unable to stop himself from playfully teasing the younger woman. "Are you surprised? Master manipulation is the primary tool in every enforcement agent's arsenal."
"Ouch, Winger." Every muscle in his body tensed when he heard Annie's voice speak from behind him, seeming to enter from the direction of the bathrooms. She took a barstool on his right, leaving only one seat between them. Three days ago, there'd been thousands of miles between them, and now it had been reduced to a single barstool.
Every atom in his body burned to look back at her, but he resisted. Still, his peripheral vision sought out the sight of her, against his own volition. She didn't seem to notice his internal struggle, also not turning to face him as she shrugged. "I guess I deserve that. I'm no stranger to pulling out the baby blues in hopes of peaceful coercion. At least, I've disciplined myself to use my abilities for good. Frankie was practically glowing as she listened to Mel this afternoon."
Jeff couldn't figure out if his blood was boiling or turning to ice; all he knew was that his internal body temperature had drastically changed in the span of a few seconds. She wasn't supposed to be here; he hadn't planned for that.
Annie continued, with a smile in her voice that he could envision without needing to actually see it. "They really do make an adorable couple. They're both so head-over-heels, I felt like I was intruding on them more than once. They seem to be the epitome of opposites attract."
A notion far too familiar to Jeff Winger as he sat beside his own. He'd never believed in the cliché turn of phrase until Annie Edison had stormed into his life, the antithesis of his entire existence; young, naïve, idealistic, honest, hard-working, kind, studious, sincere, considerate, courageous and strong. She was the personification of everything that was good in the world, all the qualities he'd never been able to discover in himself. Even after a decade, Jeff could never see himself as anything but old, jaded, cynical, deceitful, lazy, apathetic, negligent, sarcastic, selfish, cowardly and weak. Perhaps, that was what had always drawn him to her, the desire to be better. He was a blight, and she was a blessing.
His internal rumination should've made it easier to forgive her, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Annie had always been stronger. Running away was what he did, not her.
He took another sip, offering an almost imperceptible nod. "Even if I wasn't there to hear the meet cute, I can't deny the truth of it. Mel's presence has undeniably changed Frankie for the better. I wouldn't have ever imagined her capable of such happiness when I first met her. She's grown a lot."
"I'll say." Britta nodded as she placed a cosmopolitan in front of Annie. "She's definitely much softer now."
Annie gently hummed as she took a sip. "I like seeing her happy, and Mel really is a great addition to the group. I'm a bit envious of her confidence."
It was at that point, Jeff found himself looking over at Annie, undoubtedly magnetized to her presence. It surprised him to hear that after all this time, she struggled with her self-esteem. In his eyes there was nothing about her to be insecure about. Sure, she wasn't perfect, but that was because she was human; stubborn, competitive, defiant and so painfully unaware of her greatness.
Jeff couldn't find the words to respond and was almost grateful when Britta broke the brief silence with a more surface level take on the comment. "I'd probably be that confident too, if I had her bone-structure."
"Frankie's definitely a lucky woman." He agreed. Where his coworker and friend was practical and rigid, her girlfriend was charismatic and easygoing.
Annie made a little dismissive noise, finally seeming to look back at Jeff. "Oh, please. Let's nor pretend like she's the only one whose love-life hit the jackpot." Jeff could feel his brows slightly furrow before she continued. "Cheryl is gorgeous, smart and super charming." Jeff instantly felt like an ass thinking that for a brief moment, he'd almost forgot about his girlfriend, the woman he'd had brunch with that same day. Annie didn't seem to notice his short pause. "I don't doubt she has many more incredible qualities, and I've only met her once. Seems like you're a pretty lucky man, Jeff."
He fervently nodded, forcing himself to shake away the unpleasant thought that there was only one way he could feel luckier, if the woman beside him, the one he'd been in love with for more than five years felt the same. "I'm the first to admit that she's way too good for me."
"Well, that obviously goes without saying." Britta commented with a scoff. "Still, it's nice that after how hectic our lives have been, we're all getting to a point where we're more comfortable with settling down."
Annie was smirking somewhat mischievously, sharing a conspiratorial look with Jeff, just as she had thousands of times before, years ago. "Are you talking about Ian?"
Britta's eyes widened as if she had just shown her hand by admitting how much she genuinely liked her new prospective beau. Jeff turned a bit in his barstool to better face both Annie and Britta, a devilish grin contorting his expression. He didn't get a chance to tease her, before Britta irritably pushed her short blonde hair out of her face. "Shut up! I was talking about you two."
Jeff tensed, barely having a moment to interpret just what Britta was talking about, before that same young man from earlier approached the bar yet again, with an empty beer mug and a leer in his eyes as he ogled Annie.
Jealousy was such a second nature emotion for Jeff when it came to Annie, that he didn't even notice it filling his blood before it was flowing in full force as he internally sized up the man with crude assumptions. "Hey, I noticed you across the bar and-"
He was instantly cut off as Britta slid a full, fresh mug in front of him. "Sorry, buddy, but she's taken."
The young guy seemed properly chided, mumbling a soft, embarrassed apology as he grabbed the mug and scurried back in the direction he'd come from as Jeff mutely tried to process the information that had been gracelessly dropped on his head.
Annie had only been back for three days; how could there already be such a lucky son of a bitch in Greendale? Unless; the possibility that there was somebody back in D.C. finally caught up with his delayed thoughts. He was mostly shocked because she hadn't said anything to him, even as they'd been catching up while alone, just yesterday morning. Did she think he couldn't handle it? Did she pity him, even while knowing that he, too, was in a relationship? His jaw clenched again, unable to deny that it stung. He took a slightly longer sip of his scotch to hide his hesitance towards the new information.
"Britta!" Annie scolded as she glared, spinning back on their friend, behind the bar.
"What?" She shrugged as she grabbed the empty mug. "It's not like you're interested. You've got Darren back in D.C."
Ah, so the lucky son of a bitch was named Darren. Jeff loathed not being able to judge the man with no prior knowledge to his existence. Regardless, he wasn't good enough for Annie. Jeff sincerely doubted anyone could be.
"Of course, I'm not interested, Britta, but I would've handled that better. I don't need anyone to speak for me. Need I remind you all for the thousandth time, that I am a grown ass woman." She defeatedly groaned as she self-consciously rubbed her face. "I understand your intention, but I'm really sick of being infantilized like that. I'm 27 for crying out loud."
Britta had the sense to look well reprimanded. "You're right. Sorry; force of habit."
Annie's countenance filled with a weary humor as she rolled her eyes. "It's okay, but I'd appreciate if you'd try to break that habit now that I'm back."
Britta childishly saluted back, and Annie let out a small chuckle, before glancing over at Jeff.
He held his hands up in immediate surrender. "Hey, don't look at me; I said nothing. I couldn't speak for you, even if I tried; I'm pretty sure my vocabulary isn't up to par, even if I wanted to."
Annie sweetly smiled at him in that soft way that always made him feel like he was the only person in the world. It seemed both ridiculous and entirely unfair that she could still melt his internal organs without trying, after all this time, so many years spent apart.
She straightened her posture and turned back to Britta, offering him a small side-eye as she spoke. "No scolding for you then; but consider that a warning for future reference."
He parroted Britta's gesture, giving her a small salute, swallowing down his masochistic urge to inquire about Darren.
Annie laughed and rolled her eyes again. "Dorks."
"Takes one to know one." Britta taunted back.
Annie took another sip of her drink, before clearing her throat. "Speaking of which, when is everyone else supposed to get here?"
Jeff swallowed some of his scotch down, grateful that they were circling back around topics that were safe to talk about. "Shirley said she was going to be busy visiting some family for Christmas, so I'm sure we can expect her sometime after, maybe the New Year at the latest. Troy and Abed will probably be here around the same time. Apparently, Abed has a project that they're trying to get fine-tuned before the holidays. The memorial isn't until January 12th, so they've got some time."
Annie wistfully sighed. "It'll be great to see them all again, though I must admit, I'm bummed it won't be until the New Year."
"Yeah, but we'll make the most of the time once they get here." Britta sighed before standing a bit straighter, excitement filling her eyes. "I'm just happy that you moved back in time for the holidays. I'm supposed to go visit my parents this year. I know they'd love it if you could come."
Annie grinned and nodded. "I'd like that. I'm definitely not planning on spending it with my family." She seemed to grimace at just the thought.
"What about you, Winger?" Britta offered.
He swallowed down a sip. "Maybe. I usually try to spend the afternoon with my mom though, if I can."
"Aw." Annie couldn't help herself.
"Well, maybe after then." Britta shrugged. "Afterparty at the Perry's!" She whooped.
"Should be furn." Annie said with a gentle smile.
"Speaking of parties," Britta's voice revealed her failed attempt at subtlety. "Your 28th is coming up soon, isn't it?"
Annie released a somewhat reluctant sigh. "Yeah, about a week and a half, but it's really not that big a deal, definitely not party-worthy."
"Agree to disagree." Jeff's words slipped out, entirely unbidden. Even if he still felt furious with her, he couldn't deny that Annie's birthday would always be worthy of grand celebration. He couldn't imagine what his life would look like if he'd never met her. He'd said it only once before, but the world needed more women like her. It was as true now, as it had been then.
Annie rewarded him with a thoughtful grin, eyes as bright and hypnotizing as ever. "Thanks."
He mutely nodded, before finishing his last sip of his drink. Britta groaned. "Okay, maybe we don't have to have a full-blown party, if that's not what you want; but we have to do something."
Annie audibly exhaled as she considered. "I'd be happy with something simple like dinner or drinks. No cake either, but I wouldn't say no to brownies. But no gifts. I don't have my own place yet, so I don't want to be stacking things in your spare bedroom."
Britta ever-so-slightly grimaced. "Now that I finally can afford it, none of my friends will accept my generosity."
"Britta, you immediately offered to let me stay with you. That's a lot of generosity I'm already accepting."
"Yeah, but it was your apartment first, so I hardly think it counts."
"Just get her a gift card." Jeff suggested. "No stacking necessary. It's the ideal Winger gift; generic, impersonal, helpful, but not super thoughtful."
"You've really boiled your brand down to a science, haven't you?" Britta said with a snort. She grabbed the bottle of MacCallan. "Want me to top you off?"
He shook his head. "No, just the one, but I'll take a bottle of water, if you got it?"
She scowled. "You should really just drink it off tap. Plastic is destroying the environment. Did you know-"
He groaned. "No lectures, please. I already have a headache from working all day. Besides, I don't trust the cleanliness of bar pipes. Which is why I always drink scotch."
"I thought you did that because you're a pretentious douche-"
"Kids, kids; come on, stop fighting." Annie playfully scolded with an amused grin. "Britta, you know there's no getting Jeff to change his mind."
He tried not to sour at Annie's certainty of his stubbornness. Really; she was one to talk. Britta reluctantly slammed a water bottle in front of him.
"See? That wasn't so hard." He taunted.
Britta looked ready to launch at him from over the bar. "You know what else wouldn't be hard-"
"Hey, hey. Easy, you two! Damn, I'm amazed you guys haven't strangled each other yet."
"I'm too pretty for prison." Jeff sneered.
"I need an airtight alibi, first." Britta quipped back and Jeff had to bite back an impressed laugh at her jeer, instead settling for offering her an appreciative smirk.
"You're the gift card of people." Britta lamely mumbled. "Minus the helpful part. Just generic, impersonal and decidedly not the least bit thoughtful."
Jeff shrugged off her attempt at an insult. "Hey, are you surprised? It's no secret that I'm lazy."
"The only kind of energy efficiency you have any interest in." Annie teased.
"I appreciate the rebrand." He smirked before gulping down some water.
"Whatever." Britta snorted. "Enjoy ingesting your micro-plastics."
"You're a micro-plastic." He childishly shot back, no true venom in his voice.
"That doesn't make sense." Britta scoffed.
"You don't make sense." He really couldn't help himself. With Annie invading his air after more than three years of becoming accustomed to her absence, teasing Britta was the only thing that felt comfortable and familiar. He knew it was pitiful to revert to his immaturity, to grasp at stability.
Annie scoffed. "Some things never change."
The nostalgic camaraderie that they'd seemed to fall into made Jeff feel tense and wary. It wasn't so easy for him to forgive and forget. He'd been given no time to acclimate to this discombobulating reality. His stomach had soured, and he couldn't resign himself to the effortless chumminess. It couldn't be this simple, not when seeing Annie felt like trying to vainly tape his fractured chest back together. He didn't know what hurt more, the realization that her feelings had never run as deep for him, as his did for her, or that they once might've before he'd been able to reconcile the truth of his own. There'd never been a moment in time for them to meet in the middle. He'd spent so long trying to fall out of love with her. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd stayed away, but she hadn't and now, he had to adjust to her presence without feeling the excruciating pain, while they both existed in separate relationships. The tragic irony that he'd caused so much distance and hurt, just to be the only one aching was suddenly too much.
Sure, some things never change. "But most things do." He sighed, dropping some cash on the bar. "I'm off to nurse this headache at home. See you guys later." He made his exit without another look in her direction.
Jeff drove home sulking and stewing in his head. He just needed more time to adapt and soon enough, everybody else would be back and he could place all his focus into those reunions. Soon, it would be easier to see her, but if there was one thing he'd learned in all of these years apart, it was that this indescribable ache for Annie would never really go away. He'd just have to get better with practicing and playing pretend. Not tonight, but soon.
Jeff spent almost the entirety of Sunday in bed; something he hadn't done in years, three to be precise. He hated being stuck in the emotional quagmire of his thoughts, but after his moody exit the night before, he shamefully realized that the only way out, was through.
Annie was back for good, and from the brief mention Britta had given to her boyfriend, it seemed as though he might be relocating soon. Jeff hoped he was a great guy; he really did. If there was anything truly objectionable about Darren, it would just complicate things. Regardless, Jeff was determined to stay as far from involved as humanly possible. He had to wash his hands of anything regarding her love-life; he had his own to tend to.
Cheryl really was the perfect girlfriend, low maintenance and completely free from the tangle of Greendale's madness. She was so thoroughly independent that, even though she got along really well with his friends, she wasn't necessarily part of the group. She inherently understood that his friends were essentially his family, and she never tried to force herself into their dynamic. What they had together was easy and uncomplicated, nothing like the all-consuming feelings he had for Annie. It was something similar to simple contentment. She had her own family and friends to invest her free time in. It was the only relationship he'd had where he felt no pressure.
He cared about her and admired her self-sufficiency. There were thousands of reasons to exemplify how perfect they were for each other. Cheryl was amazing, and he hoped that one day that could be enough to help him forget the pain he felt thinking of someone else, someone he was still crazy for, someone he could simultaneously loathe and love, someone who broke his heart in a way he'd never believed possible.
Jeff Winger regretted his goodbye to Annie in the study room years ago. He'd revealed his own vulnerability once it was too late, and he'd been rewarded with a stinging reminder why he'd once sought apathy. If he'd never opened his heart, he would've never had it broken.
Still, he spent the day trying to convince himself that everything was exactly as it was meant to be; he was with someone, and so was Annie. It had to be easier now for them to finally be nothing for than good friends, just as they always should've been.
Annie's equilibrium felt slightly off kilter as she prepared for her first day of her new job. She had familiar first-day jitters while getting dressed in her old room, the longest home she'd ever had. She still didn't regret her decision to come home. It wasn't just the right choice; it was her only one. Try as hard as she did to make it so, D.C. had never been home. She'd had an apartment of her own and friends she genuinely liked, she'd even loved someone, to the degree that she'd begun planning their future together. That was, until that future was offered to her, a full life of nothing but certainty, but she hadn't been able to reconcile with who she'd become, with who she missed being. Playing house with a man that was perfect on paper no longer filled her with happiness; it just left her feeling empty and excruciatingly homesick.
When Annie was a 17-year-old manic overachiever, she'd planned out her entire life. Sure, it was different to her life in D.C.; she wasn't in hospital management, instead she was a forensic scientist in the F.B.I., but everything else felt eerily similar to what she'd once dreamed. The only problem was her past at Greendale.
Life here had taught her spontaneity, excitement, unfettered joy and the ability to experience and cherish her life in the current moment. Greendale had allowed her to be silly and flawed in a way she'd never been allowed to before. She'd found herself here, and she was more grateful than she could ever say. Even if most of her life was a mess – crashing in her friend's spare bedroom, failing to mend her most cherished relationship and being painfully single while she was forced to watch all of her friends happily settling down – she was free of regrets, except for the glaring one she couldn't shake away.
If Saturday was any indication of the consequences of her actions, it was that Jeff was genuinely hurt by her thoughtlessness. It was something she already knew but had been able to fool herself in denying when they'd all been chatting so effortlessly, almost feeling like old times. She'd never managed well when he was angry at her. Still, apologizing after all of this time felt inadequate. She didn't want to dredge up their mess of almosts by acknowledging it. She'd never seen him doing better; he was an exemplary teacher (especially by Greendale standards), she could tell that he was drinking much less, he was dependable, and he had a beautiful girlfriend to call his own.
If saying she was sorry brought old issues to the surface and wrecked his progress, she really wouldn't be able to forgive herself, even more than when she'd hurt him years ago. Maybe one day, she could be honest and tell him why she did it, but now, he still seemed too upset to willingly hear her, to understand her reasons. She'd been painfully vulnerable with him in the past, and it had only ever blown up in her face. It'd be easier when everyone else returned. Once they were a complete family again, seeing him would hurt less. She could tiptoe on eggshells until then. After all, keeping the peace and sidestepping around the painful feelings was second nature to her at this point. They'd be fine. Only time could fix things.
Annie finished getting ready and shared an early morning breakfast with Britta before heading off to work. Despite the natural boredom that came with the onboarding process, she was thankful to finally feel herself begin to equalize as she went through her orientation. Maybe she couldn't have it all, but as things stood, she was finally back home, and she had her dream job. Other than tending to her broken heart, Annie Edison felt pretty damn lucky.
Jeff felt unbelievably unlucky. This entire week so far, every topic on the forefront of his colleagues' minds was the return of Greendale's own superstar, Annie Edison. Even if he'd spent all Sunday sulking, it hadn't helped clear his thoughts in the slightest, where she was concerned.
He'd overhear Britta and Frankie talking about her Darren. It seemed Britta had known about the man's existence for a long time but obviously knew better than to mention it to him. From what he accidentally eavesdropped, Annie had been dating him before she'd jumped at the chance to accept her promotion, leaving him to tie up his loose ends in D.C. before relocating for her. Oddly enough, Jeff approved. It would take an absolute moron to let her slip out of their hands over the minor inconvenience of geography, something he knew all too well. Even so, he hoped it would take Darren a while to get to Greendale. They were about to have a full house, and he didn't want to see Annie effortlessly integrate him into their familial crew, making those eyes at Darren all the while.
Even Chang tried to chat with Jeff about her return after his class. He gave short, noncommittal replies, as if he'd hardly even noticed the change. Some career students overheard them, and then he had to listen to Neil talk about her impressive immersion skills when they'd all played D . Annie Edison's name followed him in the halls, echoing back in his thoughts.
Jeff met Cheryl at the courthouse for lunch on Wednesday, to save himself from the careless cafeteria murmurs. It was unnerving how quickly she'd clocked his internal tension as they ate together. He did his best to shrug it off as nothing but the typical stress that came with working at the most ridiculous college in the world. Much to his irritation, even she'd brought up Annie, though thankfully only in passing, to better understand the dynamic of the full group. He'd used the topic as a way to mention her old roommates.
It was easy to waste time talking about Troy and Abed, eternal manchildren that they were. She'd inquired a bit more about their game of hot lava which morphed into him regaling her in the tales of their blanket fort. But then, he started thinking about his game of conspiracy theories with Annie. So, he pivoted to the Pillow Fight War as her eyes widened into saucers. Then his mind stuttered on the memories of fighting with Annie before desperately trying to win back her favor. All roads always seemed to lead back to Annie Edison, and it absolutely infuriated him.
Still, he was fortunate to have filled their lunch with somewhat pleasant conversation about the lunacy and ludicrous misadventures of Greendale Community College, before giving her a quick kiss goodbye, and telling her to go kick ass as she returned to court.
It wasn't until just before his last class of the day that he'd felt himself finally reach his belabored breaking point. During his 20-minute break in between classes, the Dean found him in his office and tried to get some specifics regarding the dinner Britta was already trying to plan for Annie's upcoming birthday, asking what she might want.
Jeff didn't know that he was going to snap until after he already had. "How in the Hell should I know?! It's been three years! Use your damn brain, Craig; you've known her just as long as I have!" He wasn't necessarily yelling, but he'd definitely raised his voice, far more than he should've, especially at the man who was technically his boss. Though the Dean's pitiful crying face had never worked on him in the past, he couldn't help but actually feel bad this time around. Still, he instinctually stormed away, thoroughly uncomfortable with the tense and unpleasant atmosphere he'd created. He hurried off to his last class, without a single look back.
Jeff did his best to decompartmentalize as he taught his Theory of Law course. It was easier to distract his thoughts when he had a topic to lecture on. Still, from the uneasy expressions of his students that stared back at him, it seemed that he'd never fully been able to unclench his jaw. It was pathetic, his unspoken anger transporting him to the mess of a teacher he'd been three years prior, over the same person, only this time around he wasn't day-drinking on the job. He couldn't decide if that made it better or worse. At least then, he'd been an intoxicated slob; now he was just a sober mess.
This was unsustainable. Something was bound to give. As sick as it was, some part of him had felt better when she'd first got back, and he was thrusting his irritation on her. Saturday night had felt so unpleasant because of just how effortlessly pleasant it was. The unavoidable truth was that he'd missed her. The unforgivable truth was that he didn't want to. He wanted to be able to forgive her, but if he did…if he let go of his anger, he knew that it would instantly be replaced with indescribable hurt.
Jeff knew it wasn't fair to fault her for not loving him back. Even so, after all their years of being close, she'd hardly seemed to care for their friendship. She'd made him a fool by abandonment, not once, but twice. That was the worst part. Jeff was not unfamiliar with the notion of 'fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me'. Shame on him for assuming he meant more to her than he actually did. The only saving grace for his ego was the knowledge that her second ambush hadn't just been for him; Britta clearly had no idea that Annie was going to return. Maybe she'd finally embraced her impulsivity since he'd let her go, not that he would know that. They'd clearly both changed quite a bit in the past few years; another realization that pierced him.
Five years ago, he'd believed he'd always know every version of Annie, but now, he had a glaring blind-spot where she was concerned. Worst of all, he still ached for her in the cavity she'd carved into his chest.
When his class finally ended, his students skittered away in fear. He couldn't deny that it stung, but he had no one to blame but himself and his bitter temperament.
It didn't ease his self-loathing when he passed the Dean on the way to his office to collect his things. The diminutive man dramatically ran away with the sound of muffled sobs following him. Damn. Jeff was going to have to do something about that. Not tonight. His Wednesday classes ran later into the evening, and he just wanted to be home already. He'd fix it in the morning.
Once in his office, Jeff quickly gathered a thick stack of quizzes he's acquired from his classes, grateful that he finally had some homework of his own to keep him busy at home; he never thought he'd see the day. He groaned to himself as he debated on taking abhorred shortcut to his parking spot, through the library, cutting across the study room. As the Greendale Maintenance Committee was no longer fueled with a profound sense of urgency, he only found himself in the building once, maybe twice a month at most. He almost preferred it this way. Even if it was home, that didn't necessarily mean it was synonymous with comfort.
Regardless, at that moment, all he could focus on was shaving any amount of time off of his commute, even if only a couple of minutes. The week had been far too long, and it was only halfway over. He wasn't sure how he'd withstand this bitterness, or if he even could; he'd already snapped at the Dean without the slightest provocation. He didn't want to become that empty and angry asshole he'd been three years ago. It was almost a miracle he'd found his way back once, and he didn't know if he was strong enough to do it again.
Jeff entered the library through the back entrance, his focus firmly planted on his phone, desperate to find any distraction from his thoughts, no matter how shallow. He stretched his neck, overcome by the inescapable exhaustion from the long day.
The lights were still on, causing him to check his watch. He was easily thrown off his sense of time after the horrific day he'd had. He almost worried there had been some impromptu meeting of the Greendale Maintenance Committee, which wouldn't bode well for him; not only because the Dean was clearly already upset with him, but because an immediate meeting usually foretold trouble, and if he wasn't invited, he worried that the meeting could be about him, perhaps his insufferable attitude this week. He opened the back door to see her sitting at their table.
Annie was perfectly poised in her old seat, eyes studiously glued to the work in front of her. He almost believed her to be some painfully beautiful mirage, or perhaps an exhaustion-induced hallucination. The sight unnerved him as if not a single day had passed, though he was painfully aware that was not the case.
Her big blue eyes looked up at him with a soft hesitance that pulled him in, against his better judgment. "Oh, hi."
"What are you doing here?" He heard the irritation in his voice before he could even acknowledge it in his thoughts. Even while upset with her, it seemed cruel that he would still feel an innate sense of awe and affection just looking at her.
She shrunk just barely, instead choosing to shake the offense from her eyes before speaking. "Frankie asked if I would be willing to help her with organizing a Forensic Science Club. Apparently, there's been a spike in interest over the past couple years and she wanted my help to get things polished and finalized before next semester begins."
He lightly scoffed. "What would that even look like on Greendale's budget? Dollar store blood spatter kits and a game of Clue?"
She smirked. "The sad thing is you're not far off. Just initially, until they have enough members signed up to properly redistribute funds."
She was already so fully entwined in his thoughts, and now, here she was in the late hours of the evening, playing professor at his job. "Why are you doing this?"
The tension teeming off him did not escape Annie's notice, causing her stomach to clench; still, she gently sighed. "Because I was asked, and I care about Greendale."
His scoff had turned into an all-out snort, and Jeff couldn't stop himself as words began to unravel from the growing pit into his stomach out of his mouth. "Of course, you do, when convenient, as long as you're in the neighborhood."
Annie's breath tightened, realizing that this confrontation between them was inevitable and a small part of her was relieved to no longer feel it hiding deceptively in their stagnant and stilted conversations. "Jeff…" She wasn't allowed to finish before more words forced their way out.
Some part of him was desperate to finally have it out, and at this point, he couldn't, wouldn't deny himself the catharsis he'd been itching for. "Why are you back here?" Even if it felt good to say, his tone was strained by the weight of his words. "There's really no escaping you now. Suddenly, you're everywhere, after three years of nothing but absolute silence. I can't get a moment of peace without hearing your name or seeing you every time I turned around."
"I'm sorry, Jeff." She softly conceded. "But this is my home too."
How unbelievably rich of her to say now. "It sure hasn't seemed that way for a long time."
Annie nodded. "I had some things to figure out for myself."
Jeff stepped closer, anger raising his voice. "And that makes it all better?" He huffed an almost growled exhale. "You stumble onto three years of clarity, and it frees you of the consequences for what you left behind?" She'd left him behind and now he couldn't avoid her, even when he tried with every fiber of his being.
Annie couldn't hold herself back, matching his antagonism. "Funny how Troy was allowed to find his way in life, but I'm inconsiderate and thoughtless?"
That wasn't even close to the same thing; at least then they'd all been given fair warning. "Troy didn't just vanish on us."
"When I left, there was no us at that point. It was just you." It sounded harsher than she meant, and when he looked back at her, for a moment, she could see the sharp offense behind his angry eyes.
"And you said nothing. Just collected your crap and disappeared." 'Like a coward,' he was tempted to add.
"I know." She looked down. "Jeff, I just…" She silently sputtered for the right thing to say. "Couldn't do it again."
He shook his head, eyes narrowing. "That's a cop-out and you know it."
"Yeah, you would know what one looks like." Annie bit back.
His jaw clenched. "It was just going to just be for the summer. We barely talked while you were gone. And then, you come back for one day and packed up all your shit so you could sneak away before I could find out." Annie looked down, ashamed. "You didn't even tell me that you were staying in D.C." Jeff took a breath and for the first time in a long while, Annie could see behind the anger and outrage, right down to the hurt. "Now, you pop back up three years later and what? We're supposed to pick up where we left off?"
"Where exactly did we leave off, Jeff?" She snapped back. "Because after all these years, I'm still not sure." Annie sighed, shaking her head. "The only thing you've ever offered me is some vague inclination of what you felt; beyond that, you've given me nothing, just enough to torture me with never-ending questions for the past three years." She tried to rein in her irate disbelief. "How many times did I get that from you? How many times did it go absolutely nowhere?" She scoffed. "Whenever we would get closer, you would act as if it never happened. You would pull away and become distant. I couldn't do it again. Not after that goodbye. That's why I didn't come back to tell you."
Jeff stared back at her in shock. She exhaled and explained herself. "When we said goodbye, things felt different. The reason we barely talked while I was gone is because I stopped reaching out. You never initiated a text, or a call and I just dreaded the thought of coming home and acting like everything was okay. I had to move on over and over again, and it hurt every single time." Her voice had grown soft and gently insistent. "It wasn't the only reason I stayed but it made the decision a hell of a lot easier."
"So, you left and ignored me to avoid any discomfort, to avoid being honest?" He scoffed.
"Yeah, it hurts like hell; doesn't it?"
"Don't turn this on me." He nearly spit back, unable to believe just how good it felt to finally be saying, or rather, yelling this at her. For the first time in three years, his frustration felt energizing, like a deep relief to him as it whipped out in pointed words.
"This is about you, how after everything, you show up like not even a day has passed and you're around everywhere I look. But it doesn't matter, because nobody else is bothered in the slightest. They've just decided it's normal. It's normal for you to be back, normal for you to be acting chummy and nostalgic with us over drinks, not missing a single beat. I'm a wet blanket because I can't follow suit like I'm ready to be your friend again, like it's nothing. Well, I can't do it." The last words hit him with a heavy bluntness, but it was how he truly felt. It was no simple feat to erase and forget so much. "I can't."
"What are you saying, Jeff?" She asked slowly, trying to mask the hurt in her voice.
"You can't always be there." He spoke softly, more to himself than Annie, suddenly realizing that he couldn't keep acting unaffected in hopes of making it the truth. Finally, he met her stare. "I need time."
She nodded and stood, gathering the papers in front of her. "Okay, I can just finish this at home."
"Annie, I-" He began, quickly feeling guilt seep into his voice. Watching her walk away from him always came with fear; only now, that fear was justified. What if she vanished again?
She lifted her hand to politely wave him off. "Jeff, you're being more than fair. And you're right," She gave him a tight smile. "It's too much too soon. I want things to go back to normal and if that means giving you some space," She shrugged. "It's the least I can do." She grabbed her briefcase. "For what it's worth, though I doubt that's much at all, I am sorry." She gave him a brief nod as she turned away. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight." He said quietly to her retreating form, wondering just when he'd lost control of his words and of the moment.