It was a relatively uneventful trip back into town, to Jasper's great relief. Most of the townfolk didn't recognize him, which was exciting for them, as they hadn't someone new since the invention of television.

But a couple of people did. Old Mr. Johnson by the fruit stand knew exactly who he was.

"Them fancy ass clothes ain't foolin' me, Jasper Jones," he wheezed. "So the prodigal son returns, eh?"

"Yes, well, I haven't exactly returned to repent," Jasper replied, taking the exchange as an excuse to purchase an orange from the stand. "So I don't know if the title suits me, perfectly,"

"Welcome home, boy," Mr. Johnson nodded, accepting the cash, and digging through his lunchbox for change. "You know, not all of us wanted you gone,"

Then where were you when they were all telling me to get lost? He wondered, coldly. "Keep the change,"

Jake waved at the old man, and lugged the suitcase further into town. "You know, Finley and Constance have been aching to see you,"

"Yes," Jasper nodded slowly. "Connie and I have exchanged a few letters since I left. Then she stopped writing, so I did as well,"

"And Fin?"

Jasper grimaced at the name of someone he once considered to be his best friend. The first, and loudest, voice to demand his absence from Riverside. The voice that insisted that he either change, or never come back. It was a feeling of a betrayal he'd never felt so strongly before, or since.

"It was a long time ago, Jack," Stormy muttered, as if reading his thoughts. "We were teenagers. Not everyone says what they mean, or means what they say. And barely anyone doesn't change their minds fifteen years later,"

"You can change your mind," He agreed. "But never your stripes. Just because you acknowledge you were wrong doesn't mean you cease to make mistakes,"

"Mistakes make you human,"

"Maybe, but how many times can one get stabbed in the back by mistake, before they bleed out?"

Jake sighed, and shook his head somberly. "The world has hardened you, Jack. What happened?"

"I grew up,"

***

Fifteen years. Until Jake had said it, Jasper hadn't been entirely sure how long he'd been gone. But when he and his grandparents left town to start over, the house stood, empty, for fifteen years.

And every day of it showed. Water leakage, dust mites, and mold assured that any sign of freshness was left behind at the doorstep. Walking inside was like getting punched in the face by a slab of rotting wood.

"Some things never change," Jones muttered slowly making his way through the dining room, leaving his bags by the door. "This is not one of them,"

"Hi,"

Jasper jumped slightly, and turned around. It took him several moments to absorb the sight. The sight he'd been seeing in his dreams. The sight he'd been dying to see. The sight that he dreaded. The sight that would be the death of him...

Connie.

Her long, chocolate brown, hair was pinned up in the back. Her dark eyes proved over his appearance with masked curiosity. She wore pants, and a blouse, buttoned almost to the top.

She was gorgeous.

"Hi," Jasper managed to choke out.

Constance nodded, followed by a lengthy silence, as the two delved slowly into the memories of their history.

"How has life been treating you?" Jasper managed to ask, quietly.

"My life is good, but we aren't here to talk about this," she responded, stiffly. "Fin and I talked to Jake. We know what happened. So, in conclusion, you just left us?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," he sighed, leaning against the table to prepare for a fight. "You could have written to me, anytime,"

"You left us," Connie hissed.

"I didn't leave you," Jasper wagged his finger at her. "I never left you. You stopped talking to me, just as much the other way around. Fin, and everyone else, is a different story,"

"I could write, and I did. Several times," Connie countered. "But you never wanted to talk to me. And Fin and the others isn't different at all. You don't even know how much they missed you. Especially Fin,"

"Really?" Jasper snapped. "So where have you been since last January, when I wrote to you last? Don't tell me you 'could write and did' then disappear for a year and a half, and blame it on me,"

Connie opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "And the situation with the others was different. Maybe I was sick and tired of being told I'm fine, just to get stabbed in the back. Maybe I was sick and tired of people demanding that I change myself to fit the version of a person that they need. Maybe was sick and fucking tired, of being nice all the time, just to be seen as expendable in the long run,"

He stood up and turned to face the window. "You really think you've thought all of this through, don't you? I promise, you haven't. Or maybe you have, and you just don't give a shit how much I was suffering. You stopped giving a damn about how I felt. There's two sides to every story, and you sure as hell can't make an argument after reading just one,"

"It was my birthday, in January," Connie nodded, speaking softer now that his voice had risen. "That's when we talked last. But you didn't seem interested. Is it that hard to still be my friend? Or at the very least, Fin's? Nobody can make you change yourself, you have the control. But then you lost it. That doesn't mean we didn't miss you,"

"Damn straight, nobody can change me. So why should I be around people who keep telling me to?"

"Who told you?" Connie screamed over him. "Did I? Did Fin?"

"And if you thought I wasn't interested," Jasper continued on his rant, ignoring her interjections. "How about trying again in a week? A month. Not a fucking year!"

"Why didn't you write? I always wrote to you! I always started the interactions!"

"I don't even care that it was a year! But don't act like it's my fault we don't talk anymore, when you stopped writing because you assumed I 'wasn't interested',"

"Of course I assumed!" She cried. "Every letter I wrote received three sentence responses. And nothing else. You were just waiting for me to write to you? The difference is that, I've been there for you at some point. But where have you been?"

"Where have I been?" Jasper spat. "Growing up! Where have you been?"

Connie merely stared, taken aback by the harsh response.

"I don't care if you assumed. I don't even care if you were right!" Jasper snapped. "I care that you still can't take any of this on your own shoulders! You came into this house accusing me, and you still haven't even fucking acknowledged that this might be anyone else's fault, aside from my own,"

"Oh,"

"What you need to understand, is that people don't disappear without reason. You're attempting to see this world through an effect without causes. But you refuse to see that," he huffed, leaning back against the table. "Why do you think I left? Because I was bored?"

"You never told me!" Connie countered. "How am I supposed to know what you never chose to confide? If you want me to understand you, you need to understand me,"

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. Enlighten me,"

"Have you ever cried over me?" She demanded. "No, you didn't. I did,"

"Yes. I did," Jasper breathed. "I cried the day I let you go, and for a week after. The shredding feeling still goes through my gut when I think about it,"

"And you chose to stay quiet,"

"I'm a man, Connie. It isn't my job to share my feelings. It's my job to provide and protect,"

"Sure," Connie rolled her eyes.

"Women have their puberty and shit they have to deal with. That's their battle," Jasper explained. "I have to battle the fact that, if I ever so signs of weakness, I'm useless. And I'll never be needed for that. Man, or not. It's human nature. People don't want my problems to add to their own. Even if they say they want that kind of person, they'll eventually find it's too much. They'll get overwhelmed, and they'll leave. It happens all the time. People don't want weight, they want to be supported.

"So yes, I cried. And no, I didn't tell you. Yes, I told you I missed you. Yes, that was my way of expressing that pain. What else do you want me to confess?" He looked his love in the eyes and sighed. "You think I don't care? You have no idea how much I care. That's why I can't ruin you by being around you.

"Fin and I stopped talking because he betrayed me, sides against me, and told me he didn't need me. You and I stopped talking because I loved you too much to let myself happen to you," Jasper turned his gaze to the frayed carpeting. "That's the difference,"

"I understand," Connie nodded slowly.

"Look," Jasper rubbed his face and breathed exhaled slowly. "If you want to continue this, fine. But I have some things I need to take care of, and it's late," he handed her the key from the kitchen counter, and strolled away.  "That's to the front door. I'll talk to Fin tomorrow. But you can not give this to him, or anyone else, until I say so. Got it?"

"Okay," Constance nodded. "I promise. Goodnight Jasper,"

She waited for a reply, but received nothing. So without another word, Constance stepped out, and closed the door behind her.

Jasper locked it, and placed his head against the door frame.

If only that was the hardest part over.

"Goodnight, Connie," he breathed to the doorway. "I'm sorry,"