Fic: Screenwriting Fundamentals (the Sergei Eisenstein remix)
Title: European Silent Cinema (the Screenwriting Fundamentals remix)
Author: otempora42
Pairing/Characters: Troy/Annie, Abed
Spoilers: up to 2.15 "Early 21st Century Romanticism"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4200
Summary: Annie's not the same girl she was in high school, or in rehab, or when she first came to Greendale. But some things never change.
Link to the original work: Screenwriting Fundamentals by htbthomas
Author's Notes: Oh God, was this terrifying. First of all, I'm pretty rusty at writing fic. Second of all, I've never even tried writing for Community fandom in any serious way. Third of all, I am really terrible at completing fic challenges. That being said, I liked how this came out, despite the fact that it shares only a superficial resemblance to the original work. Hope you like it anyway, htbthomas! (And the rest of you, obviously.)
And, as this is Community fic, there's supplementary viewing. A Trip to the Moon by Georges Méliès, and this scene from Strike by Sergei Eisenstein (although that one's not for the squeamish). You should be able to figure out the gist of it, though, without the links. So. Carry on.
Annie tended to think of her life in various phases. There was pre-adolescent Annie, who was praised for being smart and a hard worker and who didn’t mind that she didn’t have many friends, because her teacher let her sit in the corner of the class with the fifth-grade level books during recess.
Then there was junior high Annie, when she first became aware that she was chubby and neurotic and that she couldn’t survive outside of the clique system without being eaten alive.
After that was high school Annie, who tried so desperately to be everything to everyone: a great student, a competent cheerleader, a perfect daughter, a potential girlfriend (that was to any guy who looked her way, and quite a few who never did, especially to Troy).
Drug addict Annie was a direct result of high school Annie. She still cringed to remember her first NA meeting. She’d felt so nerdy, with her adderall and her need to do well in school. She’d wished that she could have a more glamorous addiction, like heroin or cocaine.
Her Greendale Community College persona had begun largely the same as her high school one - still hung up on Troy (and later Jeff), still obsessed with success. But Annie thought that, maybe, this time, she’d change.
She hoped that every time, and it rarely worked out well. Still. First time for everything, right?
* * *
Annie had been excited at the beginning of her European Silent Cinema class. She hadn’t done a film course before, and she had a vague notion of bettering herself through a finer appreciation of the Lumiere brothers and Sergei Eisenstein. Besides, it was her only class with just Troy and Abed.
When Annie had signed up for her spring classes, she’d still been a little sore about the whole Jeff and Britta fiasco, but her required modules had, unfortunately, aligned with theirs. And, although she didn’t mind having classes with Shirley and Pierce (except for the African-American history class she had with Pierce, when he kept asking when they were going to get to the inventor of fried chicken and why there wasn’t a White American history class, despite how many times Britta told him that it was every single other history class they had ever taken), it was nice to have a class just with the younger members of the group.
Annie liked hanging out with Troy and Abed. Despite the fact that they had such a close bond, she never felt left out. Even when she wasn’t included in the conversation, it was kind of nice to sit back and watch their banter.
So Annie had high hopes for this class. Of course, no one told her about all the abattoir footage.
“My mom told me that my burgers came from cows that died of old age,” Troy said, cradling his head in his hands, staring blankly into thin air. Annie shuddered.
“I thought I was going to be sick! All that blood…”
“I think Eisenstein’s use of montage, although visceral and disturbing, complements his depiction of the plight of the workers,” said Abed, standing up. “Talk amongst yourselves. I have to go to my physics lab.”
Abed was the only one of the group who had chosen to take physics. Fat Neil had taken it last year and told everyone how hard it was, so none of the others had agreed to sign up with Abed. (Well, Annie had considered it, but the exam clashed with her crafts requirement. Besides, she could always take it next year.)
Troy and Annie were too disgusted to wave back.
“Man, what is it with this class?” Troy asked. “First the moon, now this.”
“The moon? What do you mean?”
“You know, the one where those French guys go to the moon.”
Annie couldn’t quite wrap her head around what he was getting at. They had watched A Trip to the Moon in their first week, but it had been a nice, happy film. She didn’t know why he was bringing it up now.
“Yeah?”
“Well, the moon had a face, right? That always freaks me out. I can’t even watch Teletubbies.”
“Huh?”
“Like, what if the sun’s watching me? And the sun’s a baby. What if the baby sees me watching Hostel? I could scar it for life.”
“So, wait, the sun from Teletubbies freaks you out, but Hostel doesn’t?”
Troy blinked, like he was the one surprised by her line of reasoning. “Hostel’s obviously fake, Annie. Duh.”
A year and a half ago, Annie probably would’ve just agreed with him. She probably would’ve been too nervous to even contradict him in the first place. But they’re friends now. After going through Vaughn and Jeff and Rich, she’s over her crush on Troy. So she laughs, and he joins her. It’s nice.
“The Teletubbies kind of freaked me out, too,” Annie admitted, “but that was mostly because they seemed to keep their vacuum cleaner as a slave.”
“Yeah,” Troy said. “And how did they get anything done with TVs on their tummies? Wouldn’t they just sit around watching themselves?”
“It’s kind of a bad angle, though,” said Annie, craning her neck to demonstrate. “I don’t think I could do this for more than a few minutes before getting tired.”
“Never thought of that. I guess they could watch each other, though.”
“Maybe Tinky Winky just wants to sit around watching soap operas all day, and Dipsy can’t stand them.”
Then it was Troy’s turn to laugh. Annie remembered what an accomplishment that used to be, that the great Troy Barnes, football hero, would laugh at something that she had said.
Man, if her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.
“We should get back to work,” she said, not unkindly. “These film diaries aren’t going to write themselves.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if they did,” Troy sighed, but he does open up his book, which is a start.
Annie didn’t write Troy’s response for him, although she did help him out a little. He actually had a bit of a knack for criticism, which Annie guessed he picked up from Abed, because she remembered how he said that Romeo and Juliet was “totally gay” in their sophomore lit class.
Yeah, OK, maybe she did judge herself a little in retrospect. But, here, now, in the study room, she sort of got what she saw in him in the first place.
* * *
“Do you think Abed’s avoiding me?” Troy asked out of the blue.
Annie looked up from her work. This had become something of a routine for them - Troy and she would work on their cinema homework together while Abed went to his physics class. Abed always apologized for his absence, and even offered to do the practical aspect of the class, which involved making a short film in the style of one of the directors they were studying. Annie was, in general, opposed to the practice of letting one person do all the work and the rest of the group taking credit (having been the person who worked far too many times), but, well, Annie didn’t know the first thing about making movies, and Abed did really enjoy it, so what was the harm?
“I doubt it,” Annie ventured. “I mean, you guys do still hang out all the time. It’s just that he has this class this one period.”
“Yeah, but he’s always telling me that I should hang out with other people. He keeps asking me if I’m enjoying my time with you.”
“Really?” Annie wondered if it would be weird to ask him how he answered that last bit. She decided to err on the side of caution. (Not that it really mattered, anyway.)
“Yeah.” Troy looked concerned and, although Annie knew it was because he was upset over the thought of Abed pulling away from him, it still kinda stung.
“Don’t worry about it,” Annie said, touching his arm lightly, not even thinking about it. “I’m sure there’s a reason. I know he cares about you as much as you care about him.”
It was then, when Troy hesitated for a moment (did she imagine his eyes flicking down towards her hand?) that Annie noticed what she had done. But, before she can pull away, he nodded, and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said, relief seeping into her tone, and she moved her fingers away from the warmth of his forearm.
They spent the rest of their free period in companionable silence. Annie couldn’t help but look up at Troy occasionally, though, just to see if he was looking back.
Ugh, this couldn’t be happening again, could it?
* * *
Troy’s fears seemed to be unfounded: it was only a few days later that Abed suggested that the three of them go to see a Charlie Chaplin double feature at the local independent cinema.
“It’s not strictly relevant to our syllabus, but it could be helpful,” he said.
Annie clapped her hands. “I used to love his movies as a kid!”
“I’ve never seen them,” Troy said, looking at the ad in the paper. “Why are his pants so big?”
Annie gasped. “You’ve never seen a Charlie Chaplin movie? You have to go.”
So it was decided that they would go. Annie was the first to arrive at the cinema (twenty minutes early, like she always did), but she was surprised that Troy was there shortly afterwards.
He was dressed less casually than he normally was - he wore a dark striped collared shirt and slacks. His shoes were even the same color as his socks. Annie felt a little underdressed in the same sweater and skirt that she had worn all day. At least she had her hair down.
“You look nice,” Annie said.
“Thanks,” Troy replied, with the sort of smile that would’ve had old Annie swooning, and even made new Annie blush a little. “Whenever I went to museums when I was a kid, I had to dress up. This is kind of like a museum for movies, right?”
Obsessed with Jeff Winger Annie would’ve rolled her eyes. This Annie, in control of her own life, not going to fall all over some dumb guy Annie shook her head. “Not exactly. It’s more like a place where they show stuff you don’t get to see in the regular movie theaters.”
“But I like those movies.”
“You’ll like these, too,” she said. “I promise.”
“You owe me my ten bucks if I don’t,” he said, half-teasingly. Then he looked worried, and added, “You don’t really.”
Annie chuckled. “It’s OK. It’s practically impossible not to like the Tramp.”
He looked confused. “I thought we were going to see Charlie Chaplin.”
Annie was about to correct him when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse and saw a text message from Abed.
“What is it?” Troy asked.
“Abed says he can’t make it,” Annie said, disappointed. “Says he forgot about a physics project he had to finish. He says go on without him.” Annie bit her lip, remembering Troy’s anxieties, and she said, hurriedly, “You don’t have to. I mean, if you only came because Abed wanted to… We could see something else. Something you like.”
“No,” Troy said. “I mean, I want to go.”
Annie looked up and said, in a voice that was all old Annie, “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been looking forward to this, right? Besides, I kinda want to see what all the fuss is about.”
The thing is, he looked like he meant it. Annie grinned, and nodded, and they went to buy their tickets.
And, although he complained about how the theater had the smallest large popcorn he’d ever seen, when they got into the dark room they sat next to each other, and the armrest was pretty narrow, so their elbows touched for pretty much the entire double feature. About halfway through the first time, it hit Annie that this was actually happening, that she was actually alone in a dark movie theater with Troy, and she could practically hear her sixteen-year-old self squealing with delight that she would one day be so lucky.
It hadn’t happened like she’d planned it, though. Far from it. She’d planned him to maybe invite her to the Prom, maybe after meeting her online like in A Cinderella Story, maybe because of a dare, but he was really in love with her, like in 10 Things I Hate About You or She’s All That.
What actually happened… well. Let’s just say that Annie would have been hard-pressed to turn that into a teenage romantic comedy. Without some serious editing, anyway.
But Troy laughed at all the right places, and they went to get ice cream afterwards (bubble gum for him, strawberry with chocolate sprinkles for her) and made fun of all their lame professors, and then he walked her home and told her he’d had a blast, and maybe this was better.
When he hugged her goodnight, there was a weird glint in the bushes. But Annie didn’t think anything of it. After all, she’d just had her dream date with Troy. Except he didn’t kiss her, and he definitely didn’t propose.
Yeah, OK, with expectations that unrealistic, maybe it wasn’t that big of a surprise that she turned to drugs.
She didn’t need them anymore, though. The real world was turning out to be kind of great.
* * *
The next day, it became clear to Annie that Abed hadn’t spoken to Troy, because Troy was doing that rocking back and forth thing in his chair, which he always did when he was nervous. (Did she pick that up when she was obsessed with him in high school, or just during these quiet study sessions? Annie suspected the latter), and it was throwing off her conversation. It was probably just because of the nervous energy he was giving off, or the way his chair squeaked slightly with his movement, but Annie couldn’t deny the empathetic weight of anxiety that she felt in her own stomach.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, standing up. Troy nodded, absently. He wrote down a sentence and then crossed it out. Annie touched his shoulder, briefly, before leaving.
Did he relax a little? She thought she felt it, but… argh, she wasn’t going to torture herself with this again, because she was new Annie, except that was beginning to feel suspiciously like old Annie, only with slightly better sweaters.
She secretly feared relapsing. Relapsing into her drug habit, relapsing into her lonely, solitary life. Relapsing into the awestruck, lovesick girl who drove herself insane over a guy she couldn’t have. She’d already done that enough at Greendale.
Annie strode down the halls, purposefully, walking past two different ladies’ rooms, before reaching the science department. Annie stopped in front of the physics lab, but stopped herself before she could reach out for the door handle. What if she was overreacting? What if she just made an ass out of herself?
OK, OK. She’d look through the glass window… thingy… of the door. Then she’d decide whether to wait for the class to get out.
Annie had to stand on her tiptoes to see into the lab, but, when she did look through, she almost lost her balance.
Was that -
Annie, without any further hesitation, pushed the door open dramatically. All of the physics students looked up at her, except for, of course Abed.
“Mousetrap,” he said, impassively, as the little basket trapped the green mouse.
* * *
“You told us that this class was really hard!” Annie shouted. Abed’s professor had let him out (but only because he had won the last game), and Abed looked slightly uncomfortable. Very slightly. Reading Abed was a minor art form.
“No, Fat Neil told you it was really hard. Fat Neil is terrible at Mousetrap.”
“You said you had to work on a project when Troy and I went to see Charlie Chaplin! What kind of project do you get in that class?”
“To build a better mousetrap.”
Annie groaned in frustration. “Troy thinks you’re avoiding him. He’s really upset about it, Abed!”
Slightly sad Abed. “I know. But it’s necessary.”
“What’s necessary? What are you talking about? Why have you been blowing him off for, for… Mousetrap 101!” Annie had hoped that the end of that sentence would be cleverer than that, but still.
“It’s Practical Physics, and it’s a secret.”
Annie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Abed. If you don’t tell me right now just what you’re up to, I swear to God…”
“I would tell you. But then it would rob you of a pretty sweet epiphany later on down the line. Are you sure you want that?”
“I don’t care about a stupid epiphany!” Annie screamed. People popped their head out of their classes to see what was going on, and Annie suddenly felt quite self-conscious.
Slightly irritated Abed. “Fine. Your decision. Follow me to my room.”
Annie walked beside him down the hall, fuming silently. She liked Abed, she really did, but God was he difficult to deal with sometimes.
Abed unlocked his door and gestured for her to sit on his couch. She did so, but crossed her arms belligerently, so he could tell that she wasn’t happy about it. Abed ejected a disc from his laptop and put it into his DVD player.
“This really is ruining the surprise,” he said, and Annie pointedly ignored him.
It started off black, and then Annie felt a familiar sensation - the grating irritation of listening to the sound of your own voice.
In this case, it was her clip from the video yearbook. It didn’t even make it into the final cut. She’d never expected to have to hear it.
“Abed, how did you…”
“Shh.”
“Yeah, I’m really excited about being a senior next year,” high school Annie said to the camera. “I mean, I know it’ll be tough, but I know I can get through it.” Young Annie smiled, and Older Annie could only look at the screen through her fingers.
Then it cut to Troy. This was from his own senior video yearbook (she hadn’t had a chance to record hers, having already dropped out by this point). Troy had mostly recovered from his injury by then, but she could still see a hunch in his shoulders, a sort of worry in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll be staying in Greendale,” he said. “No, it’s not a big deal. I love it here. Do I wish I could’ve gone somewhere else? Why? We have the best Taco Bell in the state. Why would I want to leave that?”
Despite herself, Annie laughed.
Then it cut to various shots of her and Troy over the past two years, sometimes together, sometimes not. And then…
“Oh my God.”
He had footage of the hug from the other night.
“Oh my God! You were following us?”
“No. I just stayed at your house.”
“That is so creepy!”
“I was hoping that you would kiss, maybe that one of you would say that it was too complicated between you, something along those lines. I like the hug, though. It’s sweet.”
Annie hit pause on the DVD. “What is this? You wanted us to kiss? Why do you have this stupid montage, anyway?”
“I deliberately suggested a class that would be slightly too difficult for Troy to deal with on his own, but would be easy enough for me to do, and for you to help him out with. I scheduled my physics lab during the free period after the silent cinema class. I knew that neither of you had a class then, and I knew that the rest of the group would have Americana and Masculinity: the Filmography of Burt Reynolds then. You’d be alone for at least one hour every week. I set you up with him.”
“What?”
Abed sighed, as if this all should’ve been apparent to her. “You know about how Troy gave up the librarian for me at Valentine’s Day?” Annie nodded. “Well, frankly, it worried me. Like I said, I have a lot of skill with women, but Troy isn’t really like that. I want to see Troy happy, and I think him having a girlfriend will help that. However, it has to be a girl who’s accepting of me, and who doesn’t mess with our dynamic. Hence, you.”
Annie stared at him for a long time. Abed stared back, in the way that only he could. Annie took a deep breath.
“So, what you’re saying is, you picked me to throw at Troy, so that you two could keep having your friendship without feeling bad about him not being with someone? Was I ever going to have a say in this?”
“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be entering into this of your own free will. I knew you’d had a crush on Troy previously and, after your rejection by Jeff and Rich -“
“This isn’t going to get me on your side.”
“- I thought that it would be good for you to get into a relationship as well. Troy is attracted to you and, although you profess to be over him, I thought that, given your previous interest, plus the fact that he is now slightly older than you, he would be irresistible.”
Annie blinked at him in disbelief.
“Of course,” Abed continued, “I also considered what would happen if you two got together, and I think you would be good for each other. You like to have someone you can educate, and Troy likes having someone to cling to. Besides, you have fun with Troy, and you’re someone who needs to loosen up occasionally. It’s perfect, really.”
Abed had an unsettling way of making the craziest things seem almost logical. “Yeah, but I don’t like him that way. And, even if I did, he doesn’t like me that way.”
“I disagree. He thinks you’re pretty and sweet, and he obviously enjoyed the movie.”
“You only know that because you were stalking us.”
“I’ll let it go,” Abed said, resolutely. “But only if you really don’t have any feelings for Troy whatsoever.”
It should’ve been so easy to tell him that, no, of course she didn’t, of course she and Troy were just good friends now. But there was something about Abed’s gaze which prevented her from forming the correct words, and so instead Annie just stood there and gaped like a fish.
“Thought so.” Abed stood up. “Now, you should probably get back to the study room. Troy will wonder where you’ve been. Besides, I didn’t get a chance to design my physics assignment, because I was too busy last night completing our film project. You’re welcome, by the way. See you at lunch.”
Annie couldn’t do anything but huff, turn on her heel, and leave.
* * *
She sat down next to Troy. She gripped the table, and her hands were shaking a little.
Damn Abed. Damn him.
“You were in the bathroom for a long time. Was there a troll in there or something?” Troy asked. Then he frowned a little when she didn’t respond. “Annie, are you OK?”
“Me? Yeah, yeah, I’m totally… totally fine.” She smiled at him, but it may have been more of a rictus grin, because he didn’t look at all reassured.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
Annie sighed. “I just…” She looked over at him.
Old Annie, upon seeing a face that open, that concerned, that handsome looking at her, probably would’ve spontaneously combusted. New Annie did what she was good at, and pulled him in for a kiss.
There was a horrible, heart-freezing moment where he didn’t kiss her back, where he felt rigid from fear. But then, oh God, he was returning the kiss, cupping her face, and if she could give her high school self a high five through the space-time continuum, she would’ve. She definitely would’ve.
“Wow,” she said, pulling away.
“Wow,” he agreed.
“Abed set us up. That’s why he’s been avoiding you.”
Troy looked confused for a moment, and then sighed. “Oh, good. That explains a lot.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He shrugged. “In an Abed sort of way.”
She laughed. They sat, with their faces too close together, in a way that probably should’ve been more awkward than it actually was.
“So, um,” Annie said, after a long silence. “Do you want to go out? Sometime?”
That was it. That was the kind of girl New Annie was, she supposed.
“OK,” Troy said.
That was it, too. It wasn’t what she’d had in mind four years ago, but it was pretty amazing all the same. They chuckled, and they kissed again, and Annie could feel her body hum with happiness, inside of her, inside of every her. Troy blurred the lines a little, but Annie was OK with that, too.
* * *
Their professor said that their (Abed’s) montage, while technically impressive, was not in the austere Soviet spirit of Sergei Eisenstein, and gave them a B.
Annie would like to say that she didn’t freak out about that, but, come on, she hadn’t changed that radically.
Author: otempora42
Pairing/Characters: Troy/Annie, Abed
Spoilers: up to 2.15 "Early 21st Century Romanticism"
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4200
Summary: Annie's not the same girl she was in high school, or in rehab, or when she first came to Greendale. But some things never change.
Link to the original work: Screenwriting Fundamentals by htbthomas
Author's Notes: Oh God, was this terrifying. First of all, I'm pretty rusty at writing fic. Second of all, I've never even tried writing for Community fandom in any serious way. Third of all, I am really terrible at completing fic challenges. That being said, I liked how this came out, despite the fact that it shares only a superficial resemblance to the original work. Hope you like it anyway, htbthomas! (And the rest of you, obviously.)
And, as this is Community fic, there's supplementary viewing. A Trip to the Moon by Georges Méliès, and this scene from Strike by Sergei Eisenstein (although that one's not for the squeamish). You should be able to figure out the gist of it, though, without the links. So. Carry on.
Annie tended to think of her life in various phases. There was pre-adolescent Annie, who was praised for being smart and a hard worker and who didn’t mind that she didn’t have many friends, because her teacher let her sit in the corner of the class with the fifth-grade level books during recess.
Then there was junior high Annie, when she first became aware that she was chubby and neurotic and that she couldn’t survive outside of the clique system without being eaten alive.
After that was high school Annie, who tried so desperately to be everything to everyone: a great student, a competent cheerleader, a perfect daughter, a potential girlfriend (that was to any guy who looked her way, and quite a few who never did, especially to Troy).
Drug addict Annie was a direct result of high school Annie. She still cringed to remember her first NA meeting. She’d felt so nerdy, with her adderall and her need to do well in school. She’d wished that she could have a more glamorous addiction, like heroin or cocaine.
Her Greendale Community College persona had begun largely the same as her high school one - still hung up on Troy (and later Jeff), still obsessed with success. But Annie thought that, maybe, this time, she’d change.
She hoped that every time, and it rarely worked out well. Still. First time for everything, right?
* * *
Annie had been excited at the beginning of her European Silent Cinema class. She hadn’t done a film course before, and she had a vague notion of bettering herself through a finer appreciation of the Lumiere brothers and Sergei Eisenstein. Besides, it was her only class with just Troy and Abed.
When Annie had signed up for her spring classes, she’d still been a little sore about the whole Jeff and Britta fiasco, but her required modules had, unfortunately, aligned with theirs. And, although she didn’t mind having classes with Shirley and Pierce (except for the African-American history class she had with Pierce, when he kept asking when they were going to get to the inventor of fried chicken and why there wasn’t a White American history class, despite how many times Britta told him that it was every single other history class they had ever taken), it was nice to have a class just with the younger members of the group.
Annie liked hanging out with Troy and Abed. Despite the fact that they had such a close bond, she never felt left out. Even when she wasn’t included in the conversation, it was kind of nice to sit back and watch their banter.
So Annie had high hopes for this class. Of course, no one told her about all the abattoir footage.
“My mom told me that my burgers came from cows that died of old age,” Troy said, cradling his head in his hands, staring blankly into thin air. Annie shuddered.
“I thought I was going to be sick! All that blood…”
“I think Eisenstein’s use of montage, although visceral and disturbing, complements his depiction of the plight of the workers,” said Abed, standing up. “Talk amongst yourselves. I have to go to my physics lab.”
Abed was the only one of the group who had chosen to take physics. Fat Neil had taken it last year and told everyone how hard it was, so none of the others had agreed to sign up with Abed. (Well, Annie had considered it, but the exam clashed with her crafts requirement. Besides, she could always take it next year.)
Troy and Annie were too disgusted to wave back.
“Man, what is it with this class?” Troy asked. “First the moon, now this.”
“The moon? What do you mean?”
“You know, the one where those French guys go to the moon.”
Annie couldn’t quite wrap her head around what he was getting at. They had watched A Trip to the Moon in their first week, but it had been a nice, happy film. She didn’t know why he was bringing it up now.
“Yeah?”
“Well, the moon had a face, right? That always freaks me out. I can’t even watch Teletubbies.”
“Huh?”
“Like, what if the sun’s watching me? And the sun’s a baby. What if the baby sees me watching Hostel? I could scar it for life.”
“So, wait, the sun from Teletubbies freaks you out, but Hostel doesn’t?”
Troy blinked, like he was the one surprised by her line of reasoning. “Hostel’s obviously fake, Annie. Duh.”
A year and a half ago, Annie probably would’ve just agreed with him. She probably would’ve been too nervous to even contradict him in the first place. But they’re friends now. After going through Vaughn and Jeff and Rich, she’s over her crush on Troy. So she laughs, and he joins her. It’s nice.
“The Teletubbies kind of freaked me out, too,” Annie admitted, “but that was mostly because they seemed to keep their vacuum cleaner as a slave.”
“Yeah,” Troy said. “And how did they get anything done with TVs on their tummies? Wouldn’t they just sit around watching themselves?”
“It’s kind of a bad angle, though,” said Annie, craning her neck to demonstrate. “I don’t think I could do this for more than a few minutes before getting tired.”
“Never thought of that. I guess they could watch each other, though.”
“Maybe Tinky Winky just wants to sit around watching soap operas all day, and Dipsy can’t stand them.”
Then it was Troy’s turn to laugh. Annie remembered what an accomplishment that used to be, that the great Troy Barnes, football hero, would laugh at something that she had said.
Man, if her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.
“We should get back to work,” she said, not unkindly. “These film diaries aren’t going to write themselves.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if they did,” Troy sighed, but he does open up his book, which is a start.
Annie didn’t write Troy’s response for him, although she did help him out a little. He actually had a bit of a knack for criticism, which Annie guessed he picked up from Abed, because she remembered how he said that Romeo and Juliet was “totally gay” in their sophomore lit class.
Yeah, OK, maybe she did judge herself a little in retrospect. But, here, now, in the study room, she sort of got what she saw in him in the first place.
* * *
“Do you think Abed’s avoiding me?” Troy asked out of the blue.
Annie looked up from her work. This had become something of a routine for them - Troy and she would work on their cinema homework together while Abed went to his physics class. Abed always apologized for his absence, and even offered to do the practical aspect of the class, which involved making a short film in the style of one of the directors they were studying. Annie was, in general, opposed to the practice of letting one person do all the work and the rest of the group taking credit (having been the person who worked far too many times), but, well, Annie didn’t know the first thing about making movies, and Abed did really enjoy it, so what was the harm?
“I doubt it,” Annie ventured. “I mean, you guys do still hang out all the time. It’s just that he has this class this one period.”
“Yeah, but he’s always telling me that I should hang out with other people. He keeps asking me if I’m enjoying my time with you.”
“Really?” Annie wondered if it would be weird to ask him how he answered that last bit. She decided to err on the side of caution. (Not that it really mattered, anyway.)
“Yeah.” Troy looked concerned and, although Annie knew it was because he was upset over the thought of Abed pulling away from him, it still kinda stung.
“Don’t worry about it,” Annie said, touching his arm lightly, not even thinking about it. “I’m sure there’s a reason. I know he cares about you as much as you care about him.”
It was then, when Troy hesitated for a moment (did she imagine his eyes flicking down towards her hand?) that Annie noticed what she had done. But, before she can pull away, he nodded, and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said, relief seeping into her tone, and she moved her fingers away from the warmth of his forearm.
They spent the rest of their free period in companionable silence. Annie couldn’t help but look up at Troy occasionally, though, just to see if he was looking back.
Ugh, this couldn’t be happening again, could it?
* * *
Troy’s fears seemed to be unfounded: it was only a few days later that Abed suggested that the three of them go to see a Charlie Chaplin double feature at the local independent cinema.
“It’s not strictly relevant to our syllabus, but it could be helpful,” he said.
Annie clapped her hands. “I used to love his movies as a kid!”
“I’ve never seen them,” Troy said, looking at the ad in the paper. “Why are his pants so big?”
Annie gasped. “You’ve never seen a Charlie Chaplin movie? You have to go.”
So it was decided that they would go. Annie was the first to arrive at the cinema (twenty minutes early, like she always did), but she was surprised that Troy was there shortly afterwards.
He was dressed less casually than he normally was - he wore a dark striped collared shirt and slacks. His shoes were even the same color as his socks. Annie felt a little underdressed in the same sweater and skirt that she had worn all day. At least she had her hair down.
“You look nice,” Annie said.
“Thanks,” Troy replied, with the sort of smile that would’ve had old Annie swooning, and even made new Annie blush a little. “Whenever I went to museums when I was a kid, I had to dress up. This is kind of like a museum for movies, right?”
Obsessed with Jeff Winger Annie would’ve rolled her eyes. This Annie, in control of her own life, not going to fall all over some dumb guy Annie shook her head. “Not exactly. It’s more like a place where they show stuff you don’t get to see in the regular movie theaters.”
“But I like those movies.”
“You’ll like these, too,” she said. “I promise.”
“You owe me my ten bucks if I don’t,” he said, half-teasingly. Then he looked worried, and added, “You don’t really.”
Annie chuckled. “It’s OK. It’s practically impossible not to like the Tramp.”
He looked confused. “I thought we were going to see Charlie Chaplin.”
Annie was about to correct him when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse and saw a text message from Abed.
“What is it?” Troy asked.
“Abed says he can’t make it,” Annie said, disappointed. “Says he forgot about a physics project he had to finish. He says go on without him.” Annie bit her lip, remembering Troy’s anxieties, and she said, hurriedly, “You don’t have to. I mean, if you only came because Abed wanted to… We could see something else. Something you like.”
“No,” Troy said. “I mean, I want to go.”
Annie looked up and said, in a voice that was all old Annie, “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been looking forward to this, right? Besides, I kinda want to see what all the fuss is about.”
The thing is, he looked like he meant it. Annie grinned, and nodded, and they went to buy their tickets.
And, although he complained about how the theater had the smallest large popcorn he’d ever seen, when they got into the dark room they sat next to each other, and the armrest was pretty narrow, so their elbows touched for pretty much the entire double feature. About halfway through the first time, it hit Annie that this was actually happening, that she was actually alone in a dark movie theater with Troy, and she could practically hear her sixteen-year-old self squealing with delight that she would one day be so lucky.
It hadn’t happened like she’d planned it, though. Far from it. She’d planned him to maybe invite her to the Prom, maybe after meeting her online like in A Cinderella Story, maybe because of a dare, but he was really in love with her, like in 10 Things I Hate About You or She’s All That.
What actually happened… well. Let’s just say that Annie would have been hard-pressed to turn that into a teenage romantic comedy. Without some serious editing, anyway.
But Troy laughed at all the right places, and they went to get ice cream afterwards (bubble gum for him, strawberry with chocolate sprinkles for her) and made fun of all their lame professors, and then he walked her home and told her he’d had a blast, and maybe this was better.
When he hugged her goodnight, there was a weird glint in the bushes. But Annie didn’t think anything of it. After all, she’d just had her dream date with Troy. Except he didn’t kiss her, and he definitely didn’t propose.
Yeah, OK, with expectations that unrealistic, maybe it wasn’t that big of a surprise that she turned to drugs.
She didn’t need them anymore, though. The real world was turning out to be kind of great.
* * *
The next day, it became clear to Annie that Abed hadn’t spoken to Troy, because Troy was doing that rocking back and forth thing in his chair, which he always did when he was nervous. (Did she pick that up when she was obsessed with him in high school, or just during these quiet study sessions? Annie suspected the latter), and it was throwing off her conversation. It was probably just because of the nervous energy he was giving off, or the way his chair squeaked slightly with his movement, but Annie couldn’t deny the empathetic weight of anxiety that she felt in her own stomach.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, standing up. Troy nodded, absently. He wrote down a sentence and then crossed it out. Annie touched his shoulder, briefly, before leaving.
Did he relax a little? She thought she felt it, but… argh, she wasn’t going to torture herself with this again, because she was new Annie, except that was beginning to feel suspiciously like old Annie, only with slightly better sweaters.
She secretly feared relapsing. Relapsing into her drug habit, relapsing into her lonely, solitary life. Relapsing into the awestruck, lovesick girl who drove herself insane over a guy she couldn’t have. She’d already done that enough at Greendale.
Annie strode down the halls, purposefully, walking past two different ladies’ rooms, before reaching the science department. Annie stopped in front of the physics lab, but stopped herself before she could reach out for the door handle. What if she was overreacting? What if she just made an ass out of herself?
OK, OK. She’d look through the glass window… thingy… of the door. Then she’d decide whether to wait for the class to get out.
Annie had to stand on her tiptoes to see into the lab, but, when she did look through, she almost lost her balance.
Was that -
Annie, without any further hesitation, pushed the door open dramatically. All of the physics students looked up at her, except for, of course Abed.
“Mousetrap,” he said, impassively, as the little basket trapped the green mouse.
* * *
“You told us that this class was really hard!” Annie shouted. Abed’s professor had let him out (but only because he had won the last game), and Abed looked slightly uncomfortable. Very slightly. Reading Abed was a minor art form.
“No, Fat Neil told you it was really hard. Fat Neil is terrible at Mousetrap.”
“You said you had to work on a project when Troy and I went to see Charlie Chaplin! What kind of project do you get in that class?”
“To build a better mousetrap.”
Annie groaned in frustration. “Troy thinks you’re avoiding him. He’s really upset about it, Abed!”
Slightly sad Abed. “I know. But it’s necessary.”
“What’s necessary? What are you talking about? Why have you been blowing him off for, for… Mousetrap 101!” Annie had hoped that the end of that sentence would be cleverer than that, but still.
“It’s Practical Physics, and it’s a secret.”
Annie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Abed. If you don’t tell me right now just what you’re up to, I swear to God…”
“I would tell you. But then it would rob you of a pretty sweet epiphany later on down the line. Are you sure you want that?”
“I don’t care about a stupid epiphany!” Annie screamed. People popped their head out of their classes to see what was going on, and Annie suddenly felt quite self-conscious.
Slightly irritated Abed. “Fine. Your decision. Follow me to my room.”
Annie walked beside him down the hall, fuming silently. She liked Abed, she really did, but God was he difficult to deal with sometimes.
Abed unlocked his door and gestured for her to sit on his couch. She did so, but crossed her arms belligerently, so he could tell that she wasn’t happy about it. Abed ejected a disc from his laptop and put it into his DVD player.
“This really is ruining the surprise,” he said, and Annie pointedly ignored him.
It started off black, and then Annie felt a familiar sensation - the grating irritation of listening to the sound of your own voice.
In this case, it was her clip from the video yearbook. It didn’t even make it into the final cut. She’d never expected to have to hear it.
“Abed, how did you…”
“Shh.”
“Yeah, I’m really excited about being a senior next year,” high school Annie said to the camera. “I mean, I know it’ll be tough, but I know I can get through it.” Young Annie smiled, and Older Annie could only look at the screen through her fingers.
Then it cut to Troy. This was from his own senior video yearbook (she hadn’t had a chance to record hers, having already dropped out by this point). Troy had mostly recovered from his injury by then, but she could still see a hunch in his shoulders, a sort of worry in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll be staying in Greendale,” he said. “No, it’s not a big deal. I love it here. Do I wish I could’ve gone somewhere else? Why? We have the best Taco Bell in the state. Why would I want to leave that?”
Despite herself, Annie laughed.
Then it cut to various shots of her and Troy over the past two years, sometimes together, sometimes not. And then…
“Oh my God.”
He had footage of the hug from the other night.
“Oh my God! You were following us?”
“No. I just stayed at your house.”
“That is so creepy!”
“I was hoping that you would kiss, maybe that one of you would say that it was too complicated between you, something along those lines. I like the hug, though. It’s sweet.”
Annie hit pause on the DVD. “What is this? You wanted us to kiss? Why do you have this stupid montage, anyway?”
“I deliberately suggested a class that would be slightly too difficult for Troy to deal with on his own, but would be easy enough for me to do, and for you to help him out with. I scheduled my physics lab during the free period after the silent cinema class. I knew that neither of you had a class then, and I knew that the rest of the group would have Americana and Masculinity: the Filmography of Burt Reynolds then. You’d be alone for at least one hour every week. I set you up with him.”
“What?”
Abed sighed, as if this all should’ve been apparent to her. “You know about how Troy gave up the librarian for me at Valentine’s Day?” Annie nodded. “Well, frankly, it worried me. Like I said, I have a lot of skill with women, but Troy isn’t really like that. I want to see Troy happy, and I think him having a girlfriend will help that. However, it has to be a girl who’s accepting of me, and who doesn’t mess with our dynamic. Hence, you.”
Annie stared at him for a long time. Abed stared back, in the way that only he could. Annie took a deep breath.
“So, what you’re saying is, you picked me to throw at Troy, so that you two could keep having your friendship without feeling bad about him not being with someone? Was I ever going to have a say in this?”
“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be entering into this of your own free will. I knew you’d had a crush on Troy previously and, after your rejection by Jeff and Rich -“
“This isn’t going to get me on your side.”
“- I thought that it would be good for you to get into a relationship as well. Troy is attracted to you and, although you profess to be over him, I thought that, given your previous interest, plus the fact that he is now slightly older than you, he would be irresistible.”
Annie blinked at him in disbelief.
“Of course,” Abed continued, “I also considered what would happen if you two got together, and I think you would be good for each other. You like to have someone you can educate, and Troy likes having someone to cling to. Besides, you have fun with Troy, and you’re someone who needs to loosen up occasionally. It’s perfect, really.”
Abed had an unsettling way of making the craziest things seem almost logical. “Yeah, but I don’t like him that way. And, even if I did, he doesn’t like me that way.”
“I disagree. He thinks you’re pretty and sweet, and he obviously enjoyed the movie.”
“You only know that because you were stalking us.”
“I’ll let it go,” Abed said, resolutely. “But only if you really don’t have any feelings for Troy whatsoever.”
It should’ve been so easy to tell him that, no, of course she didn’t, of course she and Troy were just good friends now. But there was something about Abed’s gaze which prevented her from forming the correct words, and so instead Annie just stood there and gaped like a fish.
“Thought so.” Abed stood up. “Now, you should probably get back to the study room. Troy will wonder where you’ve been. Besides, I didn’t get a chance to design my physics assignment, because I was too busy last night completing our film project. You’re welcome, by the way. See you at lunch.”
Annie couldn’t do anything but huff, turn on her heel, and leave.
* * *
She sat down next to Troy. She gripped the table, and her hands were shaking a little.
Damn Abed. Damn him.
“You were in the bathroom for a long time. Was there a troll in there or something?” Troy asked. Then he frowned a little when she didn’t respond. “Annie, are you OK?”
“Me? Yeah, yeah, I’m totally… totally fine.” She smiled at him, but it may have been more of a rictus grin, because he didn’t look at all reassured.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
Annie sighed. “I just…” She looked over at him.
Old Annie, upon seeing a face that open, that concerned, that handsome looking at her, probably would’ve spontaneously combusted. New Annie did what she was good at, and pulled him in for a kiss.
There was a horrible, heart-freezing moment where he didn’t kiss her back, where he felt rigid from fear. But then, oh God, he was returning the kiss, cupping her face, and if she could give her high school self a high five through the space-time continuum, she would’ve. She definitely would’ve.
“Wow,” she said, pulling away.
“Wow,” he agreed.
“Abed set us up. That’s why he’s been avoiding you.”
Troy looked confused for a moment, and then sighed. “Oh, good. That explains a lot.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He shrugged. “In an Abed sort of way.”
She laughed. They sat, with their faces too close together, in a way that probably should’ve been more awkward than it actually was.
“So, um,” Annie said, after a long silence. “Do you want to go out? Sometime?”
That was it. That was the kind of girl New Annie was, she supposed.
“OK,” Troy said.
That was it, too. It wasn’t what she’d had in mind four years ago, but it was pretty amazing all the same. They chuckled, and they kissed again, and Annie could feel her body hum with happiness, inside of her, inside of every her. Troy blurred the lines a little, but Annie was OK with that, too.
* * *
Their professor said that their (Abed’s) montage, while technically impressive, was not in the austere Soviet spirit of Sergei Eisenstein, and gave them a B.
Annie would like to say that she didn’t freak out about that, but, come on, she hadn’t changed that radically.