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Jeff sighed as he stepped out of his car, hardly cognizant of the way he slammed the door shut on his precious Lexus. The thought that had kept him awake last night (and most of the previous nights, if he was being honest with himself) lingered in his brain, making him feel like some pathetic teenager with a new-found obsession.
It had caused his foul mood and, combined with his recent lack of sleep, he wasn’t exactly feeling his best. But he couldn’t help how much it bothered him; how much it was eating away at him. She hadn’t uttered a word, breathed a sigh or dropped a hint. She hadn’t told him. He hated to think of how that simple fact cut him, how much it actually hurt him but ever since they had saved Greendale, he had realised how futile it would have been to deny the fact. Of course it would hurt. Of course he would feel something. He felt too damned much when it came to her but within the confines of his own mind at least, he was no longer running from that truth. Not when he'd had a scientific demonstration on the depth of his feelings.
The question that was on infinite replay in his mind was Why? She had confided in Shirley and Abed but she hadn't felt the need to bring him in to the loop.
He glanced up as he approached the coffee shop (he hadn’t questioned himself as to why he had chosen her favourite one for this Saturday morning caffeine run) and he saw her through the glass panel of the door. He braced himself for what he knew would come – those two words that had haunted him ever since that day: Milady. Milord. They played themselves like some soundtrack in his mind every time he saw her; that soft sweet lilt in her voice as she had responded in kind, betraying the absolute delight she had felt. It had let him know that it meant something to her; it had started meaning something to them.
He drank her in – the way the vivid blue of her sweater amplified the beauty of her eyes and how gorgeous the long brown waves of her hair looked against her porcelain skin. He couldn’t recall telling her that he really liked the way she wore her hair now. That silken mass had always fascinated him but something about the way it moved these days conjured up images of his fingers slowly stroking through it while she hummed in contentment.
He contemplated turning around and leaving, his current state of mind considered, but when had he ever physically run from Annie? Emotionally, sure, all the time. He would readily admit that. Metaphorically? Probably since the day he had met her. But there had always been something that drew them together, despite themselves, and if he wasn’t going to run from his own emotions, he sure as hell wasn’t going to run from seeing her now. He knew he was still a coward, though. It had been over a month since he had come face to face with the truth of his feelings and he hadn’t told her. He knew that he should have but where would he even begin? How would he even begin?
His eyes followed her from a distance as she collected her coffee and moved away from the counter, heading towards a seat that was obscured from his vision. He swallowed thickly, his jaw hardening as he tried to block out the issue that was nagging him and pushed open the door. The café wasn’t terribly crowded, considering that it was eight in the morning, so he was able to get his coffee and quickly locate her in the cozy store. She was in a corner booth beside a window and he approached, observing how she gazed outside, taking in the morning light.
“So what’s for breakfast?” he asked, sliding comfortably into the seat across from her. She turned towards him and the glimmer of sheer joy in her eyes warmed his skin before he saw her school her features into cool civility. He felt something hollow in his chest at her change but he fought it, managing to plant a smile on his face for her benefit.
She looked down at the coffee cup between her palms, her thumb distractedly sliding along the lid.
“A marble mocha,” she replied, taking a sip. Her eyes were feverishly avoiding his and it felt like his world was turned upside down because she usually didn’t back down from his stare. He remembered telling his father once that he was scared to look his friends in the eye for too long because he didn't want them to see how broken he was but he didn't think that had ever applied to Annie. Somehow, whenever they had looked at each other, he had felt as if she was seeing to the very heart of him, to the only place where goodness was left in him; she lit up all the dark, cracked parts of him and made him feel...whole.
"It's a mix of white and dark chocolate," she explained in answer to his quirked eyebrow.
He pursed his lips in amusement. “Sounds indulgent.” He hoped she would pick up on his teasing tone.
She cocked her head to the side, a smile threatening at the corner of her lips as she looked directly at him. “I was in the mood for indulgence. But, you know, that’s for us mere mortals.”
“That it is,” he agreed, not really feeling as self-assured as he sounded. He looked down at his coffee cup, twisting it in his hand, while he debated whether or not he should bring it up with her, more particularly the fact that she hadn’t confided in him; in the end, emotion won and he didn’t linger on the why.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Annie?” he demanded, coming across more forcefully that he would have liked. Or maybe that was exactly what he'd been going for. It bothered him, damn it.
“Tell you what, Jeff?”
Though she tried, she couldn’t convince him that she was oblivious about what he meant.
He abruptly stopped playing with his cup and shot her an intimidating glance.
“Come on, Annie, don’t you think you leaving Greendale is something you should tell me? At least warn me about? Give me a heads up? It’s a pretty monumental decision.”
He saw her flinch, brief as it was, then she was squaring her shoulders as she prepared to battle him.
“You didn’t think getting engaged to Britta was something you should talk to me about –“ It was his turn to flinch and he wondered if the repercussions from that horribly ill-fated decision would never end.
She cut herself off, however, taking a deep breath and shaking her head to get rid of the thought.
"That was different Annie," he began. "That was..." he trailed off, not really sure how to describe the temporary insanity that had gripped him in those moments. "That was personal," he settled on.
"And this isn't? " she challenged him, as she was wont to do. "It's my life. I don't see how much more personal it can get. Besides, I’m not leaving Greendale. I’m just thinking about it.”
He nodded, the hollow feeling in his chest making him feel sick at her words.
"I still think you could have at least told me." He hated that it made him seem like a petulant child but he couldn't bring himself to care about his cool factor - not when he felt like he was losing her. "I mean you told Abed and Shirley..."
She sighed, as if she were being forced to discuss the issue. “Was it Abed who told you?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Said something about it being too major a plot point to let it play out naturally.”
She rolled her eyes at that and then explained. "I told Abed because I didn't want to just spring it on him. He just lost Troy and I didn't want to make him feel like I was abandoning him."
He smiled ruefully at that because it was so very like Annie, to be considerate of everyone else.
"How did he take it?" He couldn't imagine that Abed would be pleased with the situation - being Abed, he was notorious for resisting change.
She pulled the left part of her bottom lip between her teeth, momentarily distracting him from what he had asked.
"He wasn't thrilled with the idea but he seemed a lot more open to it than I would have thought. He thought it would be good for his character growth and was possibly the next step in the evolution of his relationship with Rachel. He agreed that it might be time to move on. "
He sipped his drink in silence, not really knowing what to say. If Abed of all people wasn't fighting it, who was he to be the selfish one? He had battled so long and so hard to not be selfish when it came to her - he wasn't going to let all that be in vain. Her happiness before his, he reminded himself. Always.
"And Shirley?" he continued. Now that he had begun, he couldn't just drop it. He still felt the sting of omission from her circle of trust.
She shot him a look of exasperation but answered him nonetheless. He liked to think that just as he was incapable of really denying her anything, she was the same with him when it wasn't anything truly nefarious.
"She was asking how I planned on following up saving Greendale and we just got to talking."
He smirked at her. "It is a pretty tough act to follow."
She nodded solemnly, eyes slowly moving over his face as if she was searching for something she couldn't immediately see. Without warning, she gathered her things and made to leave, the suddenness of her departure taking him by surprise.
"Well, I have some errands to run so I should get going." She dipped her head towards his drink. "Thanks for the company. "
With a mock tip of his imaginary hat he replied, "Anytime, Milady."
She granted him a tight, pained smile, blinking her eyes a few times before turning and leaving. His eyes tracked her motions and he was left with a dissatisfied feeling following their encounter. He wasn't sure what he had expected when he'd confronted her but it hadn't been the evasion she'd given. Maybe he'd been hoping for the truth. The coffee now tasted bitter in his mouth and he chucked the rest in the bin on his way out, not really sure where he was going but not wanting to be there to inhale the lingering scent of her perfume.
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He awoke with a start, images of Borchert's lab and her still swirling in his mind. He had been dreaming about being stuck in that basement again, the despair of failure hovering in the air, followed by the hope and promise of Milady, Milord.
But this time, it had been different; this time something else crawled to the front of his brain, echoing itself in a plea for attention. He kept hearing Annie's words from the coffee shop about it being time to move on, but this time, they weren't in her voice; rather it was his own desperate tone that plagued him.
He sat up and grabbed his phone to check the time. Nine o'clock on Sunday night and he had been sleeping. To be fair, he hadn't felt like doing much since she had confirmed that she wanted to leave Greendale, wanted to leave him.
Why would she leave, though? Weren't they all here? Her family - her real family? Yes, Pierce was gone and Troy was on his own journey but didn't that make the time the rest of them had to be together all the more precious?
But she wanted to move on. What wasn't she getting? Did she feel like it wasn't enough for her here? Did she feel like she had given too much to Greendale and hadn't received enough back? Something suddenly clicked into place and realisation washed over him at the genesis of it all. It was his words that had convinced her to move on; his words had convinced her to let him go. It was in that moment that she had decided to put him behind her. She had stood there, looking bravely at him while she gave that speech about letting people want what they want, in spite of themselves. She loved him so much that she was willing to let him go and grasp at his misguided vision of happiness - because it was what he wanted and she wanted him to be happy.
In the end, he realized, she was leaving because of him. And that was so very wrong - not only because her decisions shouldn't be guided by his screw ups but also because the reason she was leaving was a lie. He wasn't happy without her; he would never be.
He had to tell her. He had to tell her now.
He jumped off of his bed, stumbling in his haste to get ready. It was a mad dash to grab his jeans from the foot of the bed, where he had carelessly thrown them earlier, and then rushing to his closet to pull out a decent shirt. He didn't know what kind of sway his appearance would have on her, now that she'd made up her mind, but he figured that making an effort couldn't hurt his case. He pulled on a shirt that he knew made him look exceptional and, with a quick hand through his hair, he was out of his apartment and headed towards hers. He suddenly couldn't get to her fast enough.
The drive to her apartment was a blur. All he could think of was the pounding of his heart and the fact that he had to tell her before it was too late. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say but he didn't want artifice to taint this. And he always performed better when he was winging it.
Luck, it would seem, was on his side - he was able to get into her building without having to buzz her. As he approached her door, he realised that he didn't even know if she was home alone but he found himself not caring if they had an audience. Most of their relationship had played out before their friends so it would only be fitting if this chapter did as well.
He held his breath when he knocked on her door, only exhaling when her "Just a minute!" reached him from the other side. He heard the locks turning and then she was standing before him, clad in pyjama bottoms and a grey v-neck tee.
"Jeff!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What's up? Is everything okay?"
"For the most part," he replied, not wanting to get her defenses up immediately. "Can I come in?"
She drew her eyebrows together in a blend of confusion and suspicion but stepped aside to grant him entry. "Um, sure."
He walked in, noting the lack of any other person in the apartment before he turned around to face her. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
She shrugged, joining her hands together and then turning them outward towards him as she stretched. "No, Abed went out with Rachel for a caper of some sort so I was just looking at different neighbourhoods, seeing what's available in different places."
Ordinarily he would play along, ask her where she was looking, what sort of things comprised her criteria but he wasn't here for that; moreover he wasn't in the mood to support a decision he so intensely opposed.
"Annie," he addressed her. Something in his tone must have indicated his mood, let her know how serious this was for him because she looked up at him, letting those luminous blue spheres fall upon his own. He found himself thinking about how he could always get lost in those eyes, the way their warmth welcomed him and offered him a safe haven; about how he often did lose himself and forget the world when looking at her. But she had given him his opening so he dived right in. "Why are you leaving?"
She withdrew her gaze then and moved away from him, walking towards the living area, settling herself in one of the recliners and wrapping her arms around a pillow, effectively creating a barrier between them.
"It's like you said," she began, her voice laced with the barest hint of bitterness, "It's time to move on."
In an instant, he was in the recliner next to hers, his entire body facing her, attuned to her in a way he had deliberately not given attention before. "Move on from what? From Greendale? From your family?" From me? his mind was screaming to ask but he needed to hear her say it.
Her eyes narrowed at his accusation and her hands shot up in defense, flailing as she tried to explain. "Can't I be moving on to something? Something new? The next stage of my life?"
"And that means leaving us all behind?" he countered.
She gazed at him in bewilderment, curling her feet up under her, even as she sat up straighter in the chair. "Jeff, I thought you of all people would understand. It wasn’t so long ago that you were ready to leave all of us behind." She paused briefly, then amended, "Well, most of us anyway."
Seeing the expression on her face, he could have kicked himself for the millionth time - for his stupid reaction to the threat of losing a place he had considered home. Actions have consequences, he reminded himself, and he had to face them - and fix them - before they ruined not just his life, but possibly hers as well.
"But," she continued, "Everyone is moving on, too. Troy's off doing his thing. Abed has Rachel now. Shirley is working on having her own business and you - " she stopped, taking her eyes away from him to look down at her hands,"Well you and Britta... "
He clenched his fist at her words. There it was again – the thing that was haunting them. It was time to deal with this, time to make her understand. "Annie," he called her gently, waiting until she was looking at him so he knew he had her attention. "There is no me and Britta."
That seemed to strike her in some way and he thought she understood what he was saying until she replied. "Well not now but it will probably start up again. Soon, even."
The softness of her tone made him think that she was trying to give him solace, that she was giving him hope about being able to have what he wanted. God, what a mess.
He shook his head, his hand instinctively reaching for the one she had on the pillow, idly tracing along one of its edges. He had always been so careful about touching her - or rather not touching her - so he hoped his gesture would hold some significance to her. "No," he said decisively and with an air of finality. "There's no me and Britta. Not now. Not ever."
She pulled her hand out of his grasp, casting him a look of derision. "What are you talking about? You've been chasing Britta ever since the beginning. Ever since I've known you. A month ago you were going to marry her!"
An irrational rage surged through him in that moment. Why was she pushing this? She had known, from the minute they had announced it, she had known it for the sham it was. So why perpetuate the lie? Because she was convinced it was he thought would make him happy?
“Come on, you knew it was ludicrous the second you heard. That was never going to work out. It was just another temporary period of insanity that tends to happen at Greendale.”
She regarded him cautiously, as if weighing his words and trying to determine the validity they held. He looked down at her hands, feeling scared for some reason. He had come to her with the intention of telling her how he felt but now that he found himself at that point, there was a thread of uncertainty holding him back. He was about to admit the truth to her; no more hiding and dancing around the electricity between them (because he knew what it meant now); no more pushing her away; and damn him, he was actually nervous – he was about to change everything between them and yet he wanted to savour it for a moment.
“Annie,” his breath left him in a rush, the moment beginning to overwhelm him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She turned to him, unaccustomed to the uncertainty she heard from him.
“I should have told you a while ago, actually. I just really didn’t know if it was a good idea or not. And I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything, okay? I just think that you should know – you have a right to know.”
Her brow furrowed in concern and she reached a hand to steady his shoulder. “Jeff, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Her worry touched him and he knew that he was wearing one of those soft, affectionate smiles he seemed to reserve for her. Covering the hand that lay on his shoulder with one of his own, he looked at her and took a breath. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s right, actually, for the first time in five years.” He let his hand slide to her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. Her skin felt soft and warm … and comforting, inviting him to utter the words that had held him captive for the past few weeks. “I love you, Annie.”
He heard the conviction in his own voice; heard the truth in the statement, knowing that it was the first time he had meant them in such a situation.
Her lips parted in surprise and her breath warmed his face, making his heart beat faster and his palms feel uncharacteristically sweaty. Then she was springing up out of the chair and away from him, putting distance between them.
“What the hell are you playing at, Jeff?”
He gave a short, bitter laugh, leaning back into the recliner and folding his arms. It was fitting that when he finally decided to spill his guts, that was how she'd react. “I’m not playing at anything.” He sighed at her arched eyebrow. “You want proof? I have science behind me – science can prove it.”
“Wha – how?” she was rightly perplexed and of course she didn’t know – because he hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her.
“When we were in that godforsaken basement with no way out, it was you,” he admitted, seeing the moment she understood, her mouth shaping itself around a silent “Oh”.
“I looked at you and the strength of what you made me feel opened that door and saved us. You saved us.”
She shook her head, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. “Is this your way of trying to get me to stay? Are you trying to manipulate me into staying so your world remains the way it was?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief… and hurt.
A smirk pulled at his lips and he cocked his head at her. “One would argue that by telling you this, I am ensuring that my world does not, in fact, stay the same.”
She looked flustered at that but shook her head again and carried on. “No, because you will tell me that you – you will tell me that – and then what happens? I stay and we go on about our lives like normal? Well, no!” Anger flashed in her eyes and he was reminded that he enjoyed seeing her so energised, so passionately invested in something. He found that it roused something in him when she was passionate about him. “No! I will not let you pull me this way and that like some puppet. I’m over that! I’m done!”
“Is that why you're leaving? Why you suddenly want to move on?” he asked, fully well knowing it was the only reason. “Because I’ve taken years of your life and I was never going to give you anything in return?”
Her entire being froze and she looked so absolutely vulnerable that his heart almost broke.
“Annie,” he said softly, standing slowly and carefully approaching her because he didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had. “That’s what I’ve been doing this entire time.” He reached her and clasped both her shoulders with between his hands. “I was giving you the best chance you could have ever had – by not being with you; by not ruining your life.”
Her eyes were liquid and his right hand went up to lovingly wipe away the tear that hovered on her bottom eyelashes.
“Don’t you realise that it’s always been like this? That I’ll do what it takes to make you happy? And I didn’t think that screwed up me could ever do that? So I pushed you away, because you’re young and deserve to have a real shot.” He looked at her, hoping that she heard the sincerity in his voice, saw it in his eyes. "When you told me that we should respect each other enough to let us want what we want, it made me realise that I should just accept that I want what I want. And what I want, what I have wanted for a very long time, is you. "
"You told me it was all in my head," she reminded him, her voice so achingly fragile. "You said that I'd imagined it."
"I know," he confessed, putting all of his remorse into his words.
"Do you know what that did to me?" she asked brokenly. "Do you have any idea of what you put me through?"
"I am so, so sorry. But I thought it was better than the alternative. I genuinely thought that I was doing what was right for you."
His hand was cradling her face now and she closed her eyes, rubbing her cheek against his palm. “And now?” she whispered.
He brought his hand up to capture her other cheek and leaned in, resting his forehead on hers, his eyelids falling shut.
“Now I think that if I have you to help me, I could make you happy. I –“ he stuttered because this wasn’t usual for him, this tentativeness, this laying himself bare. “I want to try. If – if you want me to.”
He felt her small warm hands wrap around his and he opened his eyes to look at her. His thumb caressed her cheek, brushing away the tears that were now sliding freely down her skin. “You’ve always believed in me,” he confided. “Even when I failed you, you knew I was better than that and if, after all this time, you can still believe in me, believe that we would be good together, then I’m willing to trust that.” He smiled at her. “Because I believe in you.”
Her breath hitched and she graced him with a tremulous smile. “I think that may have been your best Jeff Winger speech yet.”
His smile widened and he let his arms drop to circle her waist, bringing her flush against him as his lips met hers in contentment and relief. He relished the luxurious feel of her lips, the sweet taste of her tongue and thought that he was right to stay away from her for so long – if he had let himself begin loving her, he would have never ever been able to stop.
She pulled back from him, dragging her tongue along the length of his bottom lip and giving it a quick peck before separating their faces.
"Tease," he chided, grinning happily.
"Oh, stop complaining, " she instructed, her hand slapping his chest. He was grateful for the familiar gesture, for the semblance of normalcy between them. "You know you love it."
He leaned in to nuzzle her nose with his, unable to get enough of her. "Oh, I do," he affirmed.
She dipped her head, dropping her gaze to his chest while her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "So, where do we go from here?" she inquired, shyly.
"I don't know about you, but I was kinda hoping we weren't going anywhere. I wouldn't mind staying here and getting what I was so cruelly denied that night in the bio lab," he told her playfully.
"Jeff!" she gasped.
"Annie!" he mimicked, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead then sobering his mood. He knew she needed this - that despite what their history indicated, despite the unspoken understanding they'd always had, she needed to hear it from him because he'd always voiced the contrary.
"That is entirely up to you. Like I said, you don't have to do anything." He tipped her chin up so she could see that he meant it. "But I love you and I want to be with you - if you'll have me."
She nodded slowly and the brilliance of her smile took his breath away. "I think we can try."
If she had ever thought that he couldn't look any more beautiful, he proved her wrong in that moment. The sheer joy her words evoked emanated from him, cementing in her mind that this, without a doubt, was the happiest she'd ever seen him.
He grabbed her around her waist, causing her to yelp, as he brought them both down onto the nearer recliner, her body positioned comfortably atop his, legs tangling with each other, his chin resting on her shoulder. The smiles were plastered on their faces and they stayed there, breathing in the other in their little cocoon of bliss.
It was in that position that Abed found them a few hours later, with the television on in the background, Jeff's arms having wrapped around Annie at some point, leaving her tucked into him like a prized possession.
Abed smiled as he pulled out his phone to send a text to Shirley. Looks like Annie will be staying in Greendale.