Archive of Our Own ^beta

Troy’s standing in front of the library huddled under a bright yellow umbrella when Abed runs up to meet him. Abed’s umbrella is blue.
They nod a silent greeting. Abed turns to stand next to him, sidling close until the blue of his umbrella overlaps the edges of Troy’s yellow to make a green Venn diagram of wetness prevention.

“So, how come we’re standing outside?” Abed asks.

Troy glances at the doors behind him. “Doors are locked. Plus watching people slip and fall running across the quad is equal parts hilarious and mesmerizing.”

“Nothing funnier than a multitude of academia scampering around like drowned rats. Well, maybe Jon Stewart’s faux!news political commentary during an election year.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”

Abed considers this and shrugs. “So, Annie and Jeff.”

“Oh yeah, what’s up with that?”

“The UST is off the charts. It’s the sort of tension that would demand an array of het fanfiction ranging in genre from fluff to PWP.”

“Pee dubbya what now?” Troy starts getting worked up. “Somebody got peed on? Was it Annie? Jeff peed on Annie? ‘Cause, dude, that is not cool. I am not down with that.  It's not cool when non-cartoon people do that.”

Pierce arrives to hear the tail end of this exchange. His umbrella is red. “Jeff peed on Annie? Whoa ho! Looks like Mr. I’m-Too-Cool-And-Sauve was hiding a dark and pervy secret. You know, he always looked like the kind of guy who’d pee on a lady. It’s in the eyes—you can always tell by that look in their eyes. I bet that’s why Professor McHottie dumped him. She kicked him to the curb when he invited her to his Golden Showers extravaganza.” Pierce smirks and pulls out his phone to pull up his Twitter application.

Abed raises an eyebrow and looks at Troy. “This is how internet rumors get started.”

Troy nods, then giggles when a co-ed decked out in running shoes, sweatpants and a hooded rain jacket slips in a puddle of mud, crashes into a bench, flips over the back and lands in a bush. Still smiling, Troy leans forward to peer up at the sky from underneath the edge of his umbrella. “Rainy days are like snow days for people who don’t like snow. Or maybe it’s like the sky is crying on the world’s shoulder and the world goes ‘there, there’.”

“Statistically, rainy days are conducive to increasing levels of depression in people prone to mood disorders,” Abed notes. “Of course, without a steady rain cycle most forms of life would cease to exist. It’s a rough trade-off in the circle of life.”

“Oh, don’t get started on that depress-o talk. The last time Britta caught me ‘diagnosing her’ behind her back, she threw her Spanish textbook at me.” Pierce rubs the back of his head, wincing. “That girl needs to up her medication and hightail it to an anger management class, pronto.”

“Britta’s taking pills? Has she been sucked into the dangerous, yet sexy college drug scene?” Shirley gasps as she joins the circle. Her umbrella is purple with tiny pink polka-dots.

Pierce gives Shirley his customary check-out-the-fine-lady once-over, then says, “You fill her in, Abed,” and pulls out his phone again to update his Twitter account.

“We appear to be caught in a dangerous loop of misinformation,” Abed explains. “It’s like when Data kept trying to keep the Enterprise from exploding, only the Enterprise is truth and we’re all doomed to never bring our ship safely home.”

Shirley holds up her hand. “Look, I just wanna know if we’re having an intervention ‘cause I need time to get refreshments and tasteful anti-drug decorations. I don’t need none of that sci-fi nonsense.”

“Donuts,” Troy interjects. “There should definitely be donuts.”

“Of course. But chocolate covered or classic glazed?” Abed countered.

“Both?” Troy asks, then his expression firms with determination. “Both.”

“Don’t forget the cream-filling!” Pierce chortles as he continues typing on his phone.

Troy and Abed share a look, heads tilted to the side at a perfectly mirrored 33.3 degree angle as if to say ‘Old people—what can you do?’

Troy breaks the pose when he giggles, “Cream filling.”

“Uh uh!” Shirley says. “I’m not having raunchy snacks at Britta’s drug intervention. She deserves a classy affair when we confront her about her sinful addiction.” She sighs, clutching at her umbrella and raising it up to send her prayer skyward in supplication. “I should’ve seen this comin’—her somber clothing color schemes were a desperate cry for help. Poor Britta, turning to drugs to fill the void in her life. Baby girl needs Jesus like fried chicken needs hot sauce.”

“I what now?!” Britta demands, stepping into the circle. Her umbrella is black. “And there’s nothing wrong with my clothes, okay? I’m stylish and happenin’ and not on drugs. Seriously, you guys. Not cool.”

Troy snickers into his fist, turns to Abed and whispers, “White girls should not say ‘happenin’’.”

“Or should they say it more because their attempts at ethnic slang are notoriously hilarious in spite of the racist overtones? Hmm.” Abed raises a hand to rest against his chin a la The Thinker.

“Ha! Who’s racist now?” Pierce says, eyes still glued to his phone. He looks up at Britta and asks, “Do you spell your name with one or two T’s?”

“Pierce, put the phone away before I make you eat it,” Britta says, eyes shooting Threats Of Violence at him.

“Fine, fine.” Hanging his head in disgruntled submission, Pierce slips his phone into his jacket pocket.

“Now now, Britta.” Shirley reaches out to pat Britta on the shoulder. “Trying to cover up your addiction is the first sign of addiction. You need to get past that denial phase so you can start to heal.”

“I—I have no words,” Britta says, jaw dropped and shaking her head in consternation.

“Let it out,” Shirley urges. “Let the healing begin.”

Britta closes her eyes and slaps her forehead.

“Hey guys! Don’t you just love it when it rains!” Annie chirps happily, skipping up to join the group. Her umbrella is pink. She’s wearing matching pink galoshes.

“Rainy days are the coolest,” Troy agrees. “Except for sunny days. Those are pretty cool, too. And night time. It’s cool ‘cause it’s dark and mysterious and full of vampires and Batman.”

Abed tilts his head back as if to peer at the sky through his umbrella top. “Ah, Batman.”

As if aware of an approaching storm, the group turns as one to watch Jeff march across the quad under a navy blue umbrella. He stops in front of Pierce, pulls out his phone and shakes it accusingly in Pierce’s face. “Care to explain yourself, you old wizened gossiping crone?”

“I think my accounting speaks for itself,” Pierce proclaims, holding his head high.

“Oh, really? Really?” Jeff shakes his head up and down, neck tensed as he gives Pierce the Crazy Eyes. He shakes his phone in the air again. “Let’s all take a closer look, shall we?” He reads off the screen: “Item One: Prof McHottie bails on Jeff Winger the Notorious Golden Showers King.”

Shirley sighs in sympathy at the reminder Jeff got dumped then quietly gasps as the rest of the statement sinks in.

Jeff holds up his hand, demanding silence before continuing. “Item Two: @Vaughan<3Earth You heard Annie and Jeff r down with the dirrrty? All my sympathy, ex-boyfriend. Lulz!”

“What?!” Annie gasps.

Jeff holds his hand up again. “Item Three: Britta’s doped up on pills again. Intervention party TBA. BYOB.”

“Why do I put myself through this?” Britta laments. “I could’ve taken classes online…”

“Item Four: T ‘n A bizarrely attached at hip again. Homoerotic anatidaephobia?” Jeff shakes his phone in Pierce’s face again. “Is that even a word? Has your sense of reality gone so far off the reservation that you can’t tell what’s English anymore?”

“Anatidaephobia—it means paranoid fear that ducks are watching you,” Abed explains.

“Ducks? Where?!” Troy whimpers and clings to Abed’s shoulder. He whispers, “How did they find me?”

Everyone stares at Troy and Abed with their heads cocked to the side.

“Oka-ay,” Jeff drawls, “besides that last one which is bizarrely accurate,” he shakes his head then continues in a commanding voice, “I present these fraudulent items of criminal gossip to the most honorable study group and call for a verdict.”

“Now, I think we all know the siren’s call of the internet gossip train. Or any gossip train, really,” Shirley says. “And we need to remember to keep forgiveness in our hearts.”

“Oh, whatever,” Britta snorts. “You’re only all forgiving ‘cause he didn’t make up any crap about you.”

“Britta, those are the drugs talking,” Shirley says in a gentle voice.

Britta slaps her forehead again.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Annie grabs Pierce by his jacket lapel and jerks him down to her eye level, glaring at him with baby blues sparking indignantly. “You’re gonna knock it off. No more online storytelling. No more meddling in our personal lives. No more!” She reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his phone and drops it on the ground. “You abuse your power—” Annie crushes the phone underneath her pink galosh “—you lose your power.”

“Dangit, I knew I should’ve opted for the five dollar-a-month insurance policy,” Pierce grumbles.

“Awesome,” Troy breathes, looking at Annie in newfound wonder.

“Annie Edison: easy on the eyes, tough on crime,” Abed narrates bullet-fast.

“And that, my friends, is how it’s done,” Jeff announces, slipping an arm around Annie’s shoulder to give her a congratulatory squeeze that… lingers.

“Okay, drama queens, can we please just go inside and study now?” Britta exclaims, pretending not to notice Jeff’s arm still wrapped around Annie.

“Can’t,” Abed announces, shaking his head. “Doors are locked.”

“Yeah,” Troy agrees, reaching behind him to pull the door open in demonstration, “the doors are, uh, locked…?”

Britta rolls her eyes and pushes past Troy inside the library. Shirley shrugs and sort of waddle-bounce-skips after her. Annie gives Troy a compassionate smile before heading in. Pierce pats Troy on the shoulder in a mixture of condescension and conciliation as he follows the ladies’ lead. Jeff looks bewildered, disappointed and amused before shaking his head, stepping forward and heading towards their study room.

Abed glances up at the green overlap of his and Troy’s umbrellas, then leans in close to Troy and whispers, “Did you forget these are pull doors again?”

“Nah,” Troy denies, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I totally knew they were unlocked this entire time. I was just messing with y’all.”

Abed frowns. “But I thought we agreed to not mess with each other anymore?”

“Yeah, but see I signaled you with my eyes earlier. Did you miss that?”

“Ahhh. That was the ‘doors are secretly unlocked but don’t tell anyone’ look.  Yeah, I totally missed that.”

Troy shakes his head. “I think we need to work on our signals.”

“Especially after the mix-up last week with the Chia-pet-tarantula fiasco.”

“Yeah,” Troy says, rubbing his ass in remembrance, “that was not pretty, fun or edutainmental.”

“Edutainmental?”

“It’s like edutainment only describing stuff. Educational entertainment—edutainmental. It’s our new word.”

“Oh. I like it. Hmm. Maybe we could create our own language and that could be how we signal each other in future situations.”

“That sounds an awful lot like studying...”

“True.”

Troy sighs. “If only there was a way for us to communicate silently in a secret code without having to learn anything…”

Abed cocks his head to the side, then shares, “I think we should hone our telepathic powers after study group.”

Troy raises his fist for their traditional Pound It agreement. “Word. I was totally just thinking that.”

Troy and Abed walk into the study room just as Britta slams her book down on the table. They glance at each other as if to say Another day at the office… and sit at their usual corner.

“Tell her that you made it up!” Britta demands, pointing an angry finger at Pierce. She turns to Shirley and sends her an exasperated, entreating look. “Shirley, sweetie, I’m not on drugs, okay?”

“Britta, I’m not going to sit here and enable you through your denial phase. Confronting the truth is the only way to help you. Right everybody?”

Britta widens her eyes and looks at the group, silently begging for help before she drops her face into her hands. Annie doesn’t notice as she’s slipped in ear phones to listen to something on her phone.

“Even if Britta was addicted to drugs, we wouldn’t be qualified to diagnose her,” Abed points out.

“She’s way too uptight and punctual to be on drugs,” Troy says, eyeing Britta. “Unless every time we see her, she’s dying for a fix. She does do this creepy twitch thing sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that,” Abed concurs.

Britta groans, head now buried in her arms on top of the table.

“She sounds like she’s in pain. Maybe we should get her something to take the edge off…” Troy suggests.

“I don’t know any drug dealers. Well, maybe one,” Abed says.

“Okay, as hilarious as it is watching Britta squirm, it’s time for some damage control,” Jeff announces. “Pierce, set the record straight or I’ll have to divulge some damaging secrets about your own sordid past.”

“Pff, you know nothing,” Pierce scoffs.

“Three words: Cowboy. Tutu. Chihuahua.”

Pierce cringes. “Alright, alright. I… might have misrepresented the facts. Apparently, Britta is not in fact popping pills. Which is actually more cause for concern because if anybody needs some form of mood stabilizer for her…” He points a finger at his head and twirls it around to signal to everyone he’s talking about Britta’s Flaming Crazy.

Britta raises her head and slumps back into her chair. Crossing her arms, she bares her teeth and glares at Pierce.

“See?” Pierce points at Britta. “Just look at that face.”

“So Britta doesn’t need an intervention?” Shirley asks hesitantly.

“No-o, though I for one am heartbroken you’ll have to cancel your intervention party,” Jeff says. “The music playlist alone would have made it a hoppin’ hootenanny to end all hoots and bring tears to the eyes of nannies from all walks of life.”

“Well, maybe we could still have the par—”

Shirley’s suggestion is cut off by Annie’s tortured sobs that sound like a cross between wailing and hiccups as she jumps up and runs from the room. Everyone watches in bewilderment. Shirley and Britta look at each other, concern etched on their faces. Pierce, Troy and Jeff look slightly paralyzed with fear at the sight of a woman’s tears. Abed opens his laptop and starts typing.

“Uhhh, what just happened?” Jeff asks.

“Annie must’ve really been looking forward to Britta’s intervention party,” Troy notes.

“Uh oh,” Abed says.

“What?” Britta and Jeff say at the same time.

“Vaughan’s updated his Twitter page with a message.” He turns his laptop towards Britta and Jeff sitting to his left.

Shirley, Troy and Pierce jump from their seats and form a huddle to better see the laptop screen. The first message on Vaughan<3Earth’s page reads: For Annie http://bit.ly/2pUswX

Abed clicks on the link which opens up a Youtube page. The video is titled: Break-up Song. Abed clicks play and Vaughan appears on the screen, shirtless and holding his guitar.

“So, truth. Truth is what we’re all looking for. All of us who are one with the flow of this wicked awesome planet.” Vaughan looks down, then glances up at the camera. He’s holding back tears. “You… you tried to keep the truth from me, Annie, but I see you now.”

Vaughan starts strumming his guitar and sings:

“You’re such a lyin’ B, Anniiiiie!
You’re such a two-timin’ B, Anniiiiie!
You’re such a lyiiiin’ and two-timiiiin’ Be-eeeeeeeee!”

He starts shaking his head as he sings:

“Oh, Annie! Oh, Annie! Oh, Anniiiiiiiiiiiiie!
Whyyyyyyyy you gotta be such a Be-eeeeeeeee?”

The camera zooms in on his face and, in a whispering style reminiscent of Enrique Iglesias, he sings, “You broke my heart. Again. Never fall in love with a Be-eeeeee…”

The video screen goes black.

“Ah, crap,” Jeff mutters.

Abed nods at Jeff. “Your duty is clear. You know what you have to do.”

“Oh, poor Annie,” Shirley says mournfully.

“Yeah, po—”

Britta’s cut off by the Dean’s voice announcing over the intercom: “Attention students! I want to remind you that Greendale is a drug-free campus and we have a zero tolerance policy for all you druggos. To celebrate living our lives drug free, stop by the rally in the quad this afternoon! In other unrelated news, Britta Perry, please report to the Dean’s office as you’ve won an all-expense paid trip to Jamaica! The wondrous land of reggae and dreadlocks! You should feel right at home there.”

“Ah, crap,” Britta mutters. “And why does he think I’m smoking pot?”

“The rumors are morphing. They’re evolving,” Abed says.

“Yeah, mon!” Troy grins.

“Excuse me, guys, I’ve gotta go get expelled,” Britta snarks.

“Deny everything,” Jeff advises.

“Pretty much my plan,” Britta says, before turning to leave.

“Somebody should go and find Annie. She shouldn’t be alone right now.” Shirley says.

“Shirley, go find Annie and do the comforting cry-on-my-shoulder girl thing. Troy and Abed, work on shutting down this internet rumor mill.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Jeff,” Abed says as Shirley leaves to look for Annie.

“It’s possible if you make it possible,” Jeff returns, giving him a steady You Can Do It, Man look.

“Mission received and accepted,” Abed says, with a nod.

“Internet’s going down!” Troy proclaims, pounding Abed’s fist. With his free hand, Abed grabs his laptop and leaves with Troy.

“And you,” Jeff says, glaring at Pierce. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Hey, where you prancing off to?” Pierce shouts at Jeff marching towards the door.

Jeff stops. “I’ve got my own solo mission.” He whips his head to the side and says over his shoulder, “To find a shirtless, barefoot hippie-wannabe abusing his guitar, the hearts of innocent women and the ears of humanity with the shameless cruelty of Uncle Kracker remixing his ‘Follow Me’ single for re-release in 2010. I’m gonna find him and show him the error of his ways if it’s the last thing I do.”

“…can I come?”

But Jeff’s already gone and Pierce is left to wallow in lonely, guilt-ridden defeat.

The sun is peaking out from behind the clearing clouds when Jeff steps outside the library. A group of students rush past wearing yellow t-shirts that say Drug Free ‘n Living the High Life.

Jeff shakes his head. “God, I hope that’s ironic.”

Another group of students wearing similar but much cooler yellow t-shirts run past. Their t-shirts say Free Drugs ‘n Live the High Life.

Jeff blinks. “Ah.”

A large crowd is congregating for the anti-drug event. Jeff notices Vaughan’s band setting up to play music and heads straight for them. He walks past Troy and Abed chatting up a group of students dressed in standard nerd gear—Jeff’s idly amused to discover that pocket protectors still exist.

Abed waves. “Jeff, we’re working on creating a worm that will destroy targeted datastreams. Hypothetically possible, but potentially disastrous on an apocalyptic scale.”

Troy adds, “Yeah, I’m not sure we should do this if it’s gonna set off nuclear weapons.”

Jeff raises his hand to give a brisk wave back, “No plan’s perfect,” and walks on. He jolts to a halt when Britta and the Dean cut him off.

“Dean Pelton, you gotta believe me,” Britta insists. “I’m clean. I’ll take a drug test. Right now. Just give me a cup—I’m ready!”

“Not now, Ms. Perry. I’ve got an anti-drug rally to MC and the show must go on,” the Dean says, maneuvering threw the crowd towards a small stage with a microphone. “You can make your case with a pee-pee cup after my rousing speech.”

The thrumming of a guitar draws Jeff forward and he hears Vaughan singing.

“Not listening, Anniiiiie! Can’t hear you over my song, na na na na! Never gonna listen to a Be-eeeeeee!”

“Vaughan, please!” Annie begs, her face still wet with tears. Shirley stands at her side, patting her shoulder.

“Hey, knock it off, Earthfare!” Jeff orders, stepping between Vaughan and Annie.

“Well, look who’s here?” Vaughan says. Thrumming his guitar again, he sings, “Sunny days chase the rain away, but have no fear, the Golden Shower King’s here! Oh yeah, he’ll rain down on you!”

“Hey! That’s slander!” Jeff rips the guitar out of Vaughan’s arms. “Don’t make me lawyer your ass!”

“Assault! Theft!” Vaughan calls out to the crowd. “Can I get a witness? I need a witness!”

A shrill screech from the microphone has everyone turning towards the stage.

Pierce taps the microphone again, making everyone wince. “Uh, is this thing on? Testing? Testing? One, two, three?” He coughs to clear his throat. “Well, I’m sure many of you are wondering who is this dashing stranger.” He chuckles briefly then continues in a more somber tone. “My name is Pierce Hawthorne and I’m addicted.”

The crowd gasps.

“Get off the stage!” Señor Cheng shouts. “Security!”

The Dean shakes his head and waves at Pierce to continue his testimonial.

“That’s right. I’m addicted… to gossip. Many of you already know me by my Twitter name: Pierce Rocks. Ever since my friend showed me how to download apps to my iPhone and then spent weeks teaching me how to use them—thanks, Ay-bed—I’ve discovered a neverending source of status updates on friends and acquaintances’ lives.”

Pierce removes the microphone from the stand and starts pacing up and down the stage. “I wanted to contribute, to be a part of this wonderful community. But I had nothing interesting to post. Nothing except reports about my friends. The ups and downs of their love lives. The calamity and drama of their successes and failures. I got carried away by the rush of… of being followed. Of people listing me. And the demand to entertain you all, all of you followers, it pushed me on. I started embellishing and exaggerating and eventually just downright making up hogwash. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the lies I’ve told you. For deceiving you. But most of all, I’m sorry for hurting my friends.”

Pierce turns to look at the Dean. “Dean Pelton, Britta’s not a drug addict. She’s too judgmental to ever loosen up and take a hit.” Pierce then looks at Vaughan in the crowd. “Vaughan, Annie’s a fine young woman who’d never cheat on someone she cared for. And she genuinely cares for you, even if we’re all baffled by her strange attachment.”

Pierce catches sight of Professor Slater walking past the crowd headed towards the parking lot and calls out, “Professor Slater, I’m sorry for saying you’d dumped Jeff because he likes to pee on people. We all know you dumped him because he refused to watch Glee with you.”

Watching Professor Slater scurry out of sight, her expression aghast and embarrassed, Pierce sighs. “And finally, there’s one more person I need to apologize to—Jeff Winger. Jeff, where are ya, buddy?”

The crowd parts around Jeff.

“Hey there, old pal,” Pierce says fondly.

Jeff gives a stiff wave to the crowd staring at him, smiling with discomfort. “Hi.”

“Jeff, I just want you to know that you’re not alone. You understand? You’re not the only one. I should never have judged you. And I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.”

“Oh, dear God,” Jeff mutters through gritted teeth.

“And I, uh, guess that’s it. Go Greendale!” Pierce shouts and the crowd erupts into applause, cheering him as he walks off stage.

“Annie?” Vaughan says, approaching her with guilt written across his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I… I take back my song. My song was wrong. It was a wrong song. Forgive me?”

“I forgive you,” Annie whispers. She steps away from Shirley and, jaw firm, continues, “I forgive you because it’s mean to hold grudges, but I’ll never forget what you did. We’re over, Vaughan. I don’t wanna be with a person who thinks I could be… a person who doesn’t know the real me. Who’d just believe a lying rumor and then make such a hurtful song.”

“Annie, please…” Vaughan steps forward, moving to grasp her by the hand.

Jeff raises the guitar, hitting Vaughan square in the chest and holding him at bay. “I think it’s time for you and your guitar to get outta Dodge.”

“Yeah, hit the road, tiny nipple man,” Shirley says, shooing him off.

Grasping the guitar, Vaughan hangs his head low and shambles off. Shirley follows him, continuing to shoo him back into the crowd.

“You did the right thing,” Jeff says, looking at Annie watch the spot where Vaughan disappeared into the crowd. “You deserve better than some two-bit jerk who doesn’t know how to treat you with respect.”

“I know.” Annie looks up at Jeff, eyes vulnerable. “It just… well, it sucks being alone.” She drops her chin and sniffles.

“Aw, don’t do that. Don’t cry. Again.” Jeff looks over his shoulder, hoping to find Shirley, but she’s nowhere in sight.

Annie tosses herself at him, hiding her face in his chest, hiccupping into the buttons of his dress shirt. He raises his arms to give her an awkward hug, patting her on the back.

After a few minutes, he sighs, rests his cheek against her hair and says, “Hey, you’re not alone. You’ve got… you’ve got all of us. You’ve got friends who care about you.” He leans back and brushes away the hair sticking to her cheeks. He gives her an encouraging grin. “You gotta look on the bright side—Troy and Abed almost detonated a nuclear weapon for you. You know you’re important when you’ve got friends willing to plunge the world into a nuclear holocaust.”

“Really?” Annie wipes away the tears on her cheeks with shaking hands.

“Yeah, really,” Jeff says, pulling her back into a hug. “So quit it with the waterworks already. And you owe me a dry cleaning bill for this shirt.”

Annie laughs and hugs him back.

“So if I hit this button…” Troy’s voice trails off, his hand hovering over the keyboard of Abed’s laptop.

“The world is plunged into eternal darkness, yes,” Abed says.

“Whoa. That’s trippy.”

“Agreed. It’s too much power for any one man to possess.”

“Or is it?” Troy hits the button. The screen counts down as the file is uploaded online, then…

Follow me. Yo, everything is alright. I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night.

Troy shudders. “Uncle Kracker should not be rapping.”

“Or breakdancing.”

“That’s supposed to be breakdancing? I thought he was having a seizure.”

“I think if you tilt your head and squint, it kinda looks like breakdancing.”

They both tilt their heads to the side and squint at the screen.

“Nah, it really doesn’t,” Troy says.

“I can’t look away. The seizure dancing is oddly mesmerizing.” The video ends. “We should watch that again.” Abed hits play.

“Abed? Abed?” Troy snaps his fingers in front of Abed’s face, but his friend is lost in the video.  He grasps Abed by the shoulders.  “Oh god, what have I done to you? No! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaabed!”