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I don't know you/ But I want you/ All the more for that
Words fall through me / And always fool me/ And I can't react
And games that never amount / To more than they're meant / Will play themselves out

It would almost be laughable, if it wasn't so damn sad.

He knew her favorite yogurt flavor (mixed berry), he'd learned how she took her tea (two sugars and a little bit of milk), and he had basically memorized all the details of her face.

And she was engaged.

And he was definitely not that guy. He was the kind of guy that you could leave your girl with. A nice guy, a stand up kind of guy.

He knew it wasn't right to be pining over a girl who was going to be married to someone else, but as much as he made himself try to get over her, he just couldn't.

Her name was Pam, and she had no idea how beautiful she was. How crazy smart, and funny, and all around great she was. That was probably what he loved (yes, loved) the most about her. She was so unaware of how awesome she was.

He was pretty sure he had never felt this way about anyone before. He had a few girlfriends, some serious. He had told Molly Steedle that he loved her in the eleventh grade, and he swore to Becca Meyers that he would be with her forever. And yes, they broke his heart a little bit, but he broke theirs too. It was reciprocal, there was a balance to things.

There was no balance to this. To loving Pam. She loved Roy, and Roy loved her, and then, all by himself, there was Jim.

Unrequited love sucked. He knew that now. Many poets and writers had written it much more eloquently, he was sure, but he could sum it up with those words. It sucked. It really, really sucked.

The only thing that made it even somewhat okay was that Pam seemed to have no idea. He could continue to be her friend with no awkwardness, because Pam was clueless.

And she had no idea that she broke his heart when she turned to him and smiled and said,

"You're a really great friend, Jim, you know that?"

Take this sinking boat and point it home / We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice / You've made it now

It would be kind of maddening, if it wasn't so damn sad.

She was still going to marry Roy. Jim had convinced himself that when he told her, when he finally spilled his guts, she would realize that she loved Jim all along. That she would throw herself into his arms, and thank him for helping her see that she was wasting her time and her talents wasting away as the fiancé of some Neanderthal and working as a receptionist for a mid-level paper company.

He never imagined this. He never imagined he'd finally get to kiss her only to have her tell him she was still going through with her wedding. That was not how this was all supposed to end.

Once he got home, he turned off his car and just sat there for a little while.

She said, "I can't."

In all the versions in his head, there wasn't a single one where she said "I can't." Where she was still going to marry Roy. Where he was still alone.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel.

With shaking hands, Jim called Jan. She picked up on the third ring.

"Michael, I do not care anymore. Date whoever you want. I do not care," she said.

"Uh, Jan? It's Jim." He let his head rest against the cool glass of the car window.

"Oh, sorry, hi Jim. I thought you were Michael calling again."

"Oh," he wasn't in the mood to dealing with Michael in any way, even peripherally.

"What can I do for you Jim?"

"I'd like that transfer that we were talking about?"

"Oh, the promotion! That's great Jim!" She could call it a promotion all she wanted, and yes, that was what it was, but he focused on the transfer part. The part where he wasn't in Scranton anymore. The part where he didn't have to watch Pam get married to someone who wasn't him.

"When can I be out of here?" He asked.

"As soon as you want to be," Jan promised.

"I want to be gone now." Jan seemed surprised, and she was quiet for a minute.

"Okay, we'll get that done for you."

A week later, when he was lying in his apartment in Scranton. When Pam's wedding was only a week away, he thought about how part of this was Hollywood's fault. For making him think that unrequited love could end happily. For making him think that he would sweep in and she would just swoon.

There was no swooning in real life. Swooning was a crock of shit, really. Teenage girls swooned. Real people did not swoon.

His phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen.

Pam.

She had left many messages for the past few days, all of which he ignored. He deleted them without listening. Because fuck her. She couldn't. Whatever that meant.

It vibrated again and this time he did listen. The sound of her voice made his insides twist painfully and he closed his eyes.

"Jim? It's Pam again. I don't know if you are listening to my messages, or...well I don't know. I wish that you would answer your phone. I wish you would call me back. I wish that you wouldn't have left like that. I wish that you would have at least said goodbye... I just...please call me back okay? We have to talk about things." And Jim deleted the message. There were lots of things that he wished for. Lots of things that he had wanted, and hadn't gotten.

Stamford was a chance to start over. He could be someone totally different here.

And Pam was back in Scranton, and she was getting married, and good for her. He so didn't care anymore.

Falling slowly, eyes that know me / And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me / And I'm painted black

It would almost be ironic, if it wasn't so damn sad.

His life was never this complicated before.

He was back in Scranton, and he was with Karen, who was great.

And he was going for that job at corporate, ready to move up, ready to grow up. He had evolved.

But then Pam, (always Pam), had some sort of break through and began babbling at the beach that he was the reason she had called off her wedding. And seriously?

Seriously, her timing really sucked.

Because what was he supposed to say to that?

He had been congratulating himself lately, how he hadn't really thought about her, how he was beginning to fall for Karen, how he was beginning to really not care about the dangerous enigma that was Pam Beesly.

And then there it was. She had called off her wedding for him.

Which, if he was going to be at all honest with himself, he had always kind of hoped for.

He knew that he hadn't been very fair to her. She had said that she tried to call him after she called off her wedding, and that was true. He remembered deleting all her voice mails, all her emails, all her text messages without reading them. He had been trying to cut her out of his life, and he had almost succeeded.

Karen was excited about the trip to New York. She didn't say anything about Pam's beach confession, other than an off handed remark about the whole thing being pretty awkward.

Jim wasn't even sure if he wanted the job at corporate, he was actually pretty sure that he didn't. Because if he took that job, then this was his life. Dunder-Mifflin was going to be it for him for good.

He thought he had a pretty good shot at it. Karen thought she had a pretty good shot at it too, and she had plans for them.

It was definitely ironic that when he figured out that he definitely did not want the corporate job, when all he really wanted was a curly-haired girl who loved mixed berry yogurt, who drank her tea with two sugars and a little bit of milk, and who had walked across fire, literally, for him, when he went to find Karen and break it to her, gently, that this wasn't going to work out, when he found her by a fountain and sat her down, that he used the same words that Pam had.

"So I was thinking that maybe we could come up next weekend and start looking for apartments? You know, after I get the job." Karen's eyes sparkled with excitement, and his heart broke for her. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of this, and he wished there was some way to make it easier for her.

"I can't."

"What?"

"I can't. I need to go back to Scranton. I'm sorry Karen, you're really great, and you don't deserve this, and I swear, I never meant..."

"Shut up," she shook her head, and wiped a tear, and took a deep breath. "Please just go."

"Let me drive you back home," he offered.

"No. I'll take the train. Please go."

And he went.

You have suffered enough /And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

It would be kind of pathetic, if it wasn't so great.

He is completely in love with Pam.

He knows all kinds of things about her. More than just the way she took her tea and that she loved mixed berry yogurt. He knows that she sighs in her sleep, and that she makes the best omelets.

He knows that he loves her, and she loves him, and it's pretty incredible.

Sometimes, when they lie in bed together, she lets her hand slide down under the blankets and doesn't look up from her book, and he turns to her and she grins, but her eyes don't leave the page.

"You're taking advantage of me," he accuses.

"Yes," she laughs. "That's the point."

Sometimes, he liked to watch her sleep.

Her hair spills out all over the pillow, and her mouth is partly open and she always burrows under her covers, wrapping them around her like a cocoon.

And she is beautiful.

He wonders what she would say if she knew that he watched her.

He knows that she would probably tease him about it. He can practically hear her say, "Jim. I love you but that is so creepy!"

Pam sleeps on her stomach, her face smashed into her pillow. One hand always reaches out to touch him. Sometimes she'll sleep twisted with half of her body on top of his, and he can feel her breath warm and comforting on him. And he wonders how he could have lived his life without this, and knows that he could never not have this, not have her.

What's surprising to him is that they talk about Casino night, and he'll tell her stories from Stamford, and he can talk about without feeling that familiar tug in his gut. He can't change anything, and he's not sure if he would if he could.

Things are pretty good, and he has to wonder if it's because they know what it's like to live without each other. They both have been there, and have no interest in returning.

It's not long before he decides that he's going to ask her to marry him.

"Let me start, Beesly, by telling you if you answer this by telling me you can't, I will never speak to you again," he says, and she raises an eyebrow. They are lying in bed, he had all these plans, this big romantic gesture, but the last one of those that he planned didn't go so well. This way is better. "I'm pretty sure I love you."

"Pretty sure?" Pam repeats with a slight smile.

"This will go easier for everyone if you don't interrupt," Jim says.

"Oh, sorry," she replies. "I'll be quiet."

"Okay, so I think you should marry me."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And here's why, I love you, and you love me."

"Well, that's as good as reason as any, I guess." And he slips the ring on her finger, and she grins and kisses him soundly.

"Why, Beesly, you're crying," he teases.

"Oh, well, despite yourself, you're kind of good at this," she replies. And her book is long forgotten and her laugh echoes through his apartment, and he thinks that maybe the movies got it right after all.

"Jim?" Pam whispers, as he wraps a curl around his finger.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm swooning."

"Yeah?""

"Definitely swooned."

"Well," Jim grins. "I'll be."

Take this sinking boat and point it home / We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice / You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody / I'll sing along