He’s doing that thing boys do, when they put a hand on the back of their neck and bow their head a little bit with a pained expression on their face.
There are suitcases strewn on the floor around him, but they’re not as heavy as his emotional baggage.
It’s been three long years since he’s been here, and one long minute he’s been waiting at the door.
Troy Barnes is coming home, and if there were any time for the dramatic music to start, it is now.
He hasn’t knocked on the door. The shiny gold 303 stares at him, daring him to pull out the key that is in his back pocket, and he can definitely hear the music now.
It’s wistful—not joyful—because there’s no one home. Abed Nadir doesn’t live here anymore. And Troy Barnes hasn’t, not for three years, but he does now.
There’s no sense in putting it off any longer, so Troy goes inside. The apartment looks all wrong without the blanket fort.
He knew they would have taken it down, when Abed and Annie moved out—moved
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