Jonathan's Hope Read Online Free Page B

Jonathan said with a nod, his request making total sense. He got up, put on a pair of sweat pants and a sweater and moved into the living room. Rascal trotted ahead, tail wagging, knowing what would happen next. Jonathan looked at the two. He watched Dan silently as he put on his boots, his thick, fur-laced, winter jacket, beanie and mittens, before putting a leash on Rascal. As he left, Dan cast one glance back into the house towards the bedroom. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Dan averted his eyes, being pulled out of the house by an overeager golden retriever.
    Jonathan relaxed just a little when he saw the door close, leaving him alone in the house. What have you done? It shot through his head again. He’s going to kill you, toss you out. You basically had your cock knocking on his ass’ door. How could you? Dan has been nothing but kind and helpful and sweet and, oh my god, no. I can’t let this happen. I can’t do this, not now.
    The fear of rejection, the angst of having to face the forest again, homelessness, the scene of his parents leaving him behind, leaving him to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere because he was an abomination, because he was what he had just done to Dan, because he was gay, a faggot, not worth the oxygen he breathed, a loathsome creature. “Nothing I will spend another penny on,” as his father had put it...
    Yet he held my hand, my arm, he thought, confused. Who knows, maybe there is hope? Maybe he won’t kick me out? Maybe, if I help, if I help...
    Not really knowing how he could ingratiate himself with Dan, silly word , Jonathan quickly climbed out of bed, figuring that a perfect first step would be to fix coffee, maybe breakfast.
    He walked over to the kitchen and started opening cabinet after cabinet, trying to find coffee and whatever else he’d thought he’d need in order to fix breakfast for Dan. When’s he coming back? I don’t even know what he eats for breakfast , his shoulders drooped, he felt resigned. I’ll never be able to stay here.
    When he found the coffee, his spirits climbed out of whatever gutter they had been in, and he quickly got it brewing. He also found a few eggs in the fridge, and some bacon. Eventually, he found all the ingredients for a perfect breakfast according to Jonathan. He tried to ignore the fact that he himself was starving. After all, he hadn’t even eaten the sandwiches Dan made him the night before. The sad proof still on a plate on the coffee table in the living room, he mused, as he turned around to look at them, only to notice that the plate was empty. The dog! Jonathan chuckled, smiling happily for the first time in weeks. It’d taken a bloody sandwich and a dog to make him smile. To have him show an emotion he thought he’d lost forever...
    Looking out one of the windows, he noticed that Dan was on his way back, the dog running circles around his master. Dan seemed to be lost in thought, and Jonathan’s spirits dropped at the sight. Is he going to throw me out now?
    He had barely gotten to set the table, having learned where things were in the small but fully equipped kitchen, when the door opened. A whiff of cold air blew in, chilling Jonathan’s bones, followed by Rascal and Dan. Dan turned to him with a look that mirrored confusion, depression, and, something else. Something Jonathan couldn’t quite put his fingers on.
    “I made you breakfast,” he blurted out, trying to break the ice, the silence. Trying desperately to avoid speaking of what had transpired in bed just a little while ago.
    “I also made you coffee.” He smiled, offering Dan the coffee pot as a sort of peace offering.
    “I don’t drink coffee.” Jonathan’s heart broke a little as he heard Dan’s dismissal. “That coffee was Sean’s. Must be at least a year old, most likely no good anymore...”
    Confused, Jonathan put the coffee pot down, smelling the faint aroma. Still smelled good, but yeah, probably old. “Who’s Sean?” he