Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy!

I'm a big time "My So Called Life" and Jared Leto fan and could really get into writing the fanfic. However, I realize this show is pretty old, and wonder if anyone still follows it? So, if you like this story, I'd appreciate it if you left a comment. It'd be encouraging to write more if I knew people were wanting to read it. Thanks! =)

Note: A few years have passed since the end scene of the show and Angela is now a senior in college. You'll get a complete background of what happened in this story (did they get back together in high school? or did they go their separate ways?) Also, Angela is narrating it. I was hoping to capture her complicated thoughts.

Thanks for reading.

...

You know that feeling when you see someone from your past? Like, someone that was once so familiar… And even though they've been gone, their phantom presence still lingers in your life. Not so much that you are always thinking about them, but every now and then something triggers your memory. It could be a simple scent like the smell of smoke, and suddenly you get this feeling of emptiness or a tight pull in your chest. It's like that person is forever frozen in time, within your mind, exactly the way they were. Yet, in reality, time has got behind you both... You are no longer the people that you once were, but instead, you are simply strangers. Or perhaps, we always were strangers.

Over these last few years, I had laid awake many nights imaging how it'd be…no... how I'd be if I saw him again. I wondered if I'd play confident and tell him how great my life was going. Or would I confront him and tell him how awful he'd been to me? My most frequent, and pathetic thought, is the one where I walk up to him, but there are no words spoken between us… Instead, we kiss just as we had in the boiler room many years ago. The only difference is that I go all the way with him this time. In truth, I had often touched myself to such a fantasy. It was my fastest path to finding my release. It's funny, to me, how we romanticize something that was never meant to be. Assuming that things are so.

Yet, across the way, there he stands. It's not at all as I imagined. I am not riddled with fear nor am I confident. Rather, I feel an odd sense of comfort. I'm sure it's only because of the space and people that stand between us. He is mostly how I imagined he'd be. Maybe just a bit leaner and not as clean cut. His hair is still long though, and he still leans with that far off look. I wonder what he's thinking.

I was glad that I was free to observe him without being noticed. I wanted to take in who Jordan Catalano had become. Though, I know, you can't fairly judge that by simply looking at a person.

Luckily, Sharon was too busy dancing with some young handsome soon-to-be doctor (or so he claimed.) She had dragged me to this club to celebrate a job offer I had just received, from some well to do publishing company, despite still being a senior in college. I hadn't done much celebrating but had enjoyed watching Sharon. Still, it felt a bit lonely, and as I watched Jordan I felt it even more.

It's interesting how you can stare at a person with all these thoughts racing through you, like the blood coursing through your veins. Meanwhile, he has no thought or care of my existence at this very moment.

It was as if he had heard what I was thinking or suddenly felt my presence. Just as quick as that thought ran through my mind, his eyes snapped in my direction. Or perhaps he felt my lingering gaze upon him. Whatever happened, it didn't really matter now, those crystal blue eyes shot through me and instantly pierced my heart.

The feeling of calm, I had felt only moments before, had completely faded. I was overcome by an emotion I hadn't expected, sadness. My body was frozen, capture and bound within his stare, and my legs felt weak. I felt unwilling tears well up in my somber eyes. All I could manage to do was turn and make a quick escape through the web of people.

"Angela…" The only word that escaped him as I fled. His tone was low, but I heard it as clear as if we were the only two people in the crowded room. He wasn't calling out to me, nor questioning if it was, in fact, me or not... this I was sure of. Instead, I feel that my name spilled from his lips from the shock of seeing me.

By the time I had contemplated all the possibilities, I had reached the outside patio of the club. The breeze of the cool crisp fresh air helped calm my agitated state, but I still felt anxious.

Would he come after me? And would it be better or worse if he didn't? I wondered. The moon seemed to grow further and further away as I waited.

Those, that had been out smoking, had gone back inside, reappeared, and disappeared once again. He wasn't coming. All at once, I felt that he had hurt me all over again.

It's a strange feeling when someone has such a profound hold on you. And I couldn't help but feel it was unfair. Why did it have to be me that had formed the attachment? Why not him? Why couldn't he be the one standing in agony? He was always so calm and thoughtless. I hate him. I have always hated him. Words I chose to tell myself since I had never been able to say how I truly felt. But when you think about it, love and hate aren't so different. After all, both are driven by strong feelings for a person.

By this time, the cold wind no longer brought me any comfort, but rather a chill to my arms. Still, I couldn't bring myself to go back inside. What if he was still in there? More importantly, what if he wasn't? I was too afraid to face such a truth. So instead, I pulled one of the patio chairs from beneath the table and took a seat. Alone, I watched the bright stars flicker in the clear night sky.

"Hey." A voice appeared from behind me.

I'd recognize that sweet sound from anywhere, and for a moment wondered if it were real or a dream. Though my heart began to pump blood rapidly and my legs once again felt weak, I stood to face him.

"H-hi…?" My words came out in the form of a question because I felt we were beyond a simple hello. However, I had to remind myself that actually, we were now strangers.

"You changed your hair." His words were calm, but he almost appeared as flustered as I was.

At that, I laughed. It was just hard for me to fathom that Jordan Catalano was talking about my hair. "Well, my hair wasn't really red, you know? Looking back, it was a pretty awful color."

He let out a long sigh before he replied, "yes, I know."

I frowned.

"I mean, that it wasn't your real hair color. N-not that it looked bad." And for a brief second, I thought that I might have offended him by laughing. My worry soon faded by his next retort, "but I always liked it. The red went well with your gray eyes."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

An awkward silence passed between us, while our eyes stayed connected. The air felt thick. I sensed he wanted to touch me in some way, even if it was a simple pat on the shoulder. There was this, sort of, unseen energy that was trying to shorten the gap between us. In fact, it had always been there, since I could remember. However, he knew he didn't have a right to me, not even as a friend. In truth, we could never be friends, not then… and certainly not now.

"Uh, can we go somewhere? To...you know, talk?" His words almost seemed to be a plea.

"Well, I'm kind of here with a friend. You remember Sharon from high school? Sharon Cherski." My hand slowly pulled through my now ash blonde hair, a nervous habit I always struggled with. Then came my usual ranting, at which he smiled at.

"That's... cool." Though, I could tell it wasn't by his faded smile.

He's disappointed expression stung a bit, and I started to reconsider. After all, I had been outside for some time without her noticing. "I think she met someone. I mean, inside. So, maybe it'd be ok if I took off. Just give me a second to tell her, and I'll meet you in the parking lot."

My gaze had long broken from his. I just couldn't bear to look at his eyes. This very instant reminded me of when I once said, "you're so beautiful, it hurts to look at you." I had always felt that way towards Jordan. Just as I started for the door, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a tight embrace.

-end of chapter 1-