Jonah Clarke is Not Gay One-Shots

Jonah Clarke is Absent

Hey peeps! This is my first one-shot of three for @greenypots 's competition for her excellent story, Jonah Clarke is Not Gay. If you like my story (The Sight of Sound) then you'll be sure to love JCING. If you've not read the original story and plan to or not at all then don't read this or the two following one-shots. I hope this isn't awful but without further or do, enjoy. :-)

Daniel let out a sigh. He hated being in this cramped space like scores of scores before him. The plain baby blue sheets, walls and whole drab room drove him round the bend. Maybe a fabulous fuchsia would suit his home, as of the previous Wednesday. Even at his grand old age of 74, Daniel couldn't stand boring things. He supposed wanting to be exciting and extravagant came with being gay and extremely camp.

He mentally scolded himself for that thought. He wasn't supposed to; no, couldn't think things like that. He tried to think what Marcus would do if he'd known about all those poisonous thoughts that had tunnelled their way into his little brother's mind. And if he'd been alive. Daniel would have to survive David(his great nephew)'s visit later on that day. He would have to hide his viscous illness from his nephew. At least that's what his homosexuality was commonly called. I mean he'd grown out of that disgusting phase years ago when he'd married Beth his, commonly regarded as, beautiful wife. He didn't see it though. She may have been beautiful but she was such a bitch in Daniel's eyes, though no-one else saw it. She was the one who threw Daniel into this hospital for made up symptoms just to rid the house of him for another one of her temporary flings. Daniel was glad to have her out of his life for the next fortnight, well eight days at that moment. It gave him time to think and make up his mind. And made up it was.

The buzzer sounded signalling a visitor was entering down the hallway into Daniel's personal room, 17. It was bound to be David seeing as Beth refused to miss her Thursday morning geriatric palates for the world and a half. The spiteful 23-year-old in question sauntered into the room, high quiff tickling the white-skirted doorframe. He wore a 'hype' t-shirt which was extremely outdated in David's day and age. Over it, there loosely hung a faded, red flannel shirt with a patch on the front, at the bottom right and several button replacements. His jeans were, inevitably, ripped and frayed at the bottom. At least those were better than some luminous Adidas tracksuit. Topping off the outfit, which Daniel believed to be the utter image of 'chaviness', were some lairy Nikes, with an array of colours, though still managing to be positively dull at the same time.

Daniel wasn't in a good mood; he didn't think he could make it through 45 minutes of verbal, and sometimes physical, abuse. He rolled over, as subtly as he could, and closed his eyes, in a desperate attempt to escape his current, bleak existence. He let the words flow over him, coating him with a fresh layer of pain, but ignored them and lapsed into a state of nothingness. His thoughts wandered to, for once, something pleasant. The last pleasant memory that he could recall. He remembered the date: March 16th.

He was 21 and was hosting a large party. Well Jonah and him. Jonah had proposed to him a fortnight before, in one of the city's large parks on a bright pink Saturday dusk. Naturally, Jonah was the proposer, seeing as he was 'the guy in the relationship'. Daniel didn't like to dwell on thoughts of Jonah, seeing as how they ended, but he could see how Jonah was much more masculine.

As the party was just about getting going, an unexpected guest presented himself to the soon-to-be-weds: Marcus. He'd essentially disowned Daniel when he'd announced his relationship with Jonah, finally standing up for himself and not apologizing for things that weren't his fault. So Marcus was very unexpected, and Daniel couldn't help but be terrified, owing to 20-or so years of abuse. Daniel tightly grabbed Jonah's hand and stepped behind, Jonah having grown a bit and now being both taller AND stronger. The couple remained stationery as the stocky, older boy barrelled towards them. Jonah's well-defined torso was met by a pair of meaty palms and crashed to the grassy, but thankfully dry, ground, nearly pulling his startled fiancé down with him, had their hands not been separated and bodies pulled apart. He didn't stir.

"Marcus, what the FUCK?!?" screamed the baby-blue-haired boy at his brother, drawing attention to himself, which he still hated.

"I own you now, bitch," came the snide reply.

"What? No-one owns me except my fiancé," said Daniel, casting a pitiful glance to where Jonah laid, "Plus, what'd our parents say? 3 years of anger management."

"Who gives a shit what they would think?"

"Would?"

"Their plane's crashed into the Caribbean. Congratulations, your picture-perfect little life is about to get a lot worse, fag, except you're straight now bitch. Never liked them personally, they didn't know how to have fun. Think I'm bullshitting? Here's the news article," Marcus sadistically snickered, brandishing a new looking iPhone 8.

"What?!" Daniel cried, a grief he'd never felt before, splattered across his bewildered face and coating his voice. He tried to step backwards, both out of shock and in order to get closer to the sanctity of Jonah's shoulder, his standard crying place but only managed to stumble, owing to the grip on his upper arm. His bejewelled ring was wrenched off his dainty hand and lazily thrown to Jonah.

"This disgusting engagement is called off. You're telling everyone you're straight now bitch," this wasn't legal was it? Daniel couldn't think, he was overrun and overwhelmed by his emotions. He would never marry his dream guy. He'd never see his parents again! "See you in a month guys," what kind of last words were they? His feet began to carry him away from the marquee.

"JONAH!!!" he cried forlornly, reminding himself of Bambi. To his great dismay, his lover didn't look at him, still unconscious.

"Oh, take a good look, we're moving away, you'll never see him again," preceded a vicious laugh.

Daniel wished that Marcus was lying like he always was, but in his heart Daniel knew that this was all truth, however vicious.

"Jonah..." Daniel mumbled, awaking to an empty room, of dull blue. There was a note on his bedside table which read 'You were mumbling about your old life. Anticipate Dad this afternoon...' He could hear the mocking tone of both his great nephew and brother so strongly in just those two sentences. Jonah wouldn't want him to live like this, in constant fear and discomfort. Definitely not. All the nurses would find is him, a morphine machine with irregularly high levels... and his suicide note.

'Tell Jonah Clarke that Daniel has always loved him, still does and always will.'

"So how long has it been since you've seen our patient?" inquired the young nurse politely, though not actually caring.

"Well, actually over 55 years. We were actually best frie-"

"Well that's lovely Mr. Clarke, but I'm afraid I'll have to go. There's his room right there, 17. If you need something, just shout."

"Right," he replied softly to her retreating back. He clicked the skype button on his phone, to Isaac who he'd kept in touch with, but couldn't be here as much as he'd wanted to. Jonah's stomach was a butterfly sanctuary but as nervous as he was, he was more excited. The heavy oak door slammed open "Surprise! Danny-boy?"

A single scream rang through the hospital: "NURSE!!!!!!!"

Hope you all enjoyed me killing so many people! XD :-)