Jerry still remembers the day you told him you didn't want to be friends anymore, that he wasn't the type of person you wanted to surround yourself with. He knew it was about his group of friends- It always was, and yet, he wasn't upset. He knew that his friends were odd and mean-spirited, making him that way in the process. He didn't say anything as he watched you retreat with the people you considered worth paying attention to and sighed quietly to himself.

He knew his friends got tired every time he brought up your name, every time he sighed because they knew he was going to start rambling about you. You were one of the closest friends he had; He could never tell his friends that, though, or he'd probably get his ass kicked. He thought about you for months.

So it hit him like a brick to the face when he saw you, years later, in public, alone. You looked different. Not in a particularly bad way, but not what he thought you would have looked like if he envisioned it back when he was still in high school. He longed to go up and talk to you, to bridge the distance that had occurred between them.