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Jonathan looked at his bleeding, red wrists. Tears were falling from his eyes. He dropped the bloody knife and it hit the tile bathroom floor with an ear-shattering sound, making Jonathan’s already pounding head hurt even more. He put his hands on the bathroom counter and put weight on his wrists but cringed back at the pain.
“Why?” Was all he could say to his reflection in the mirror. He took in the look of himself in the looking glass. His swollen, puffy, red eyes; his tear-stained cheeks; his messy, dirty blonde hair. It was awful to look at. “No wonder she left you.” He sobbed to himself as fresh tears fell from his blue eyes.
“No!” He screamed at the man in the mirror. “She left you because you’re a fag!” He found himself pointing forwards. “You have feelings for another man!”
Jonathan screamed and punched the glass, leaving his hand bloody and weak. The shards flew around the bathroom, every which way. He stormed off to his bedroom, the one he shared with her. He quickly darted his eyes to the frame on his dresser. Their wedding photo. He sprinted to it and smashed it on the ground.
“She was the best thing you ever her had! And you blew it!” He screamed at the ground where all the pieces of the frame stayed. “Instead of loving her with all your heart, you shared your love with someone else! A man for Christ’s sake!”
He remembered the memories of their room. It was too much. Too much to bare. He could not stand this hate in him. He was so sorry for fucking everything up. He didn’t’ want to feel like this. Who did? He didn’t want to be a deviant. A devil in God’s eyes. It hurt him to think that his whole life was changing, that his life was entirely over because of this one emotion he had for a person who shouldn’t even matter.
He walked into the living room. The room where their first child was conceived; the room where they found out she miscarried. More tears fell from his tired eyes. He turned to face the fireplace. On the mantle stood a picture of him and his colleagues; his friends. He is in that picture. The man that ruined his life with his beautiful, hazel eyes, his gummy smile, his cute laugh. Jonathan shook his head.
“Stop that! Stop having feelings for a man! You love women! You love your wife! Right?” He yelled at first but questioned himself in the end.
This man should mean nothing to him. Nothing. Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of him. Did he ever love his wife? Of course, he asked her to marry him. But when had he felt this way? When had he stopped loving her to the fullest and half-assing it to give his love to another man?
He took the picture frame containing the photo of his co-workers. He took one good look at it, even stopping to run his finger over the raven-haired man. He threw it against the wall with as much force and power he had left in him.
“Jonathan?” He looked up and saw him standing at the door.
“What are you doing here?” Jonathan scowled.
“I was worried. I heard from Chip that Leah left. I wanted to come over here and make sure you are okay.” He lifted up a six-pack of beer and smiled, his gums showing.
“Get out, Jeff.”
“What? Jonathan, I wanna help you.”
“No! You’re the one that caused this mess!”
Jeff squinted his eyes in confusion. “What? Wait, what do you mean?”
Jonathan laughed hysterically. “What do I mean? God, Jeff, are you really that obtuse?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Jon?”
“You seriously don’t know? Come on, Jeff. You’re smarter than that. All the guys know. Hell, even my wife found out. That’s why she left me!”
As Jonathan waved his hands around, Jeff saw. He was cutting himself. Jeff looked around for other signs. The glass shards just outside his bathroom; the shattered frame on the floor.
Jeff walked slowly towards Jonathan, bringing his hands up carefully. “I can help you. Just let me help you.”
Jonathan broke down and began to cry. He plopped himself down on his couch. Jeff walked over to him and sat down beside him.
“I know, Jonathan. I know.” Jeff pulled him in to a loving embrace.”
“No. You don’t. I’m not crying because Leah left me. I’m crying because she figured out my secret. She figured out that I love—”
“Me.” Jeff finished his sentence.
Jonathan’s jaw dropped. “You knew?”
“I didn’t. It’s called hope.”
Jonathan looked at Jeff, confused. “Hope?”
Jeff nodded. “Hope that you’d feel the same. I never pursued these emotions because you were married.” Jeff got up and walked to the bathroom. He came back with a bandage.
“You, you—” Jonathan stuttered as Jeff wrapped his bleeding wrists.
“Yes, I, Jeff Davis, love a man that goes by the name of Jonathan Mangum. People can call me a fag, a demon, I don’t care. Because love conquers hate And my love will help you fix your hate for yourself.”