The silence stretched between us, seemingly forever, after Jake was done with telling his story, every detail of it like a dagger, piercing through my flesh slowly the more I listened.

I didn't know what to say, even though I knew that I should, but the thought of Jake, my Jake, the boy I once knew, who was always so full of life and stories to share, trying to end his own life, was unimaginable to me.

I stood up from the sofa, pacing around my living room, eager to do something, anything except think about it, since every time I closed my eyes, I could see Jake, lying on the bed in his childhood home, alone with just a bottle of pills to keep him company; the same room and the same bed that used to be my favorite place on earth.

"Do you want something to drink?', I asked if just to have something to do, turning around to see Jake watching me from his seat, worry etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I can make coffee or tea? Or would you prefer juice, or soda, or wat...", I continued to babble, every word coming out of my mouth more incoherent than the previous one, as the weight of what Jake had just confessed crashed over me in waves.

The blond stood up quickly and approached me, his arms flying toward me and wrapping around me, even as I tried to push them away, as tears that I had tried so hard to stop started rolling down my cheeks.

"It's okay, everything is okay...", Jake kept repeating and just held me tighter until I finally gave up the fight and wrapped my arms around him.

"You died... you fucking died.", I whispered into Jake's ear, and the man just tightened his hold without saying anything else.

The tears kept coming, seemingly endless once I allowed them to be, as the harsh reality that Jake could have died that night if it weren't for his mother, and that I wouldn't even know about it until it was announced in the news, made my stomach roll.

Once the worst of it has passed and I've managed to retain a little bit of control back, Jake helped me to the couch before making his way to the kitchen.

He made tea and the fact that he remembered how I drank it made a little bit of warmth spread inside my chest, as I realized that Jake didn't forget everything, that I was still there, somewhere, in the back of his mind, even if it was just something as innocuous as my beverage preference.

I took a small sip of my tea, letting the warm liquid scorch my throat and welcoming the pain, as anything that could take my mind of the horrible image of Jake at the brink of his death was a welcome distraction.

"So, what happened after that?", I asked, at the same time curious about it and wanting to hear nothing more about the subject.

Jake took a seat next to me, the space between us now significantly smaller than when he had first arrived, but this time I didn't care, as the feel of Jake's body, warm and alive and there, soothed out my fraying nerves.

"Once I got released from the hospital, I checked myself into a rehabilitation center in Canada and got some therapy. It was hard in the beginning, so much so that I considered quitting more than a few times even though I was there voluntarily.

But as time went by, the urge to run slowly went too. I met a great therapist there, a wonderful woman that has gone through quite a lot herself, and she helped me realize what I needed to do. I needed to confront my demons, once and for all, unless they came back to haunt me.", he paused for a moment, running his hand through his hair a few times and I could see that it was hard for him to talk about it.

Jake had never been a man who shared his thoughts. Sure, he always talked, but his stories were never the real deal, they were a front, a wall he had built between himself and the rest of the world, and I was only now beginning to realize that I had perhaps been the only person ever allowed to see what was behind it.

The realization made me feel sad for the man sitting beside me, as I thought of all the years we have spent apart, thinking about how alone Jake must have felt having not a single person to talk to.

"And so I did as she asked, and told her about everything that I have been holding back, and for the first time in my life, I felt free. I cried for a long time that night, thinking about everything I have missed because I have been too afraid to just stand up and face who I am.", he said and then turned around to look at me, with a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips.

"I talked to her about you, you know. She wanted to know if I have ever told anyone besides her that I was gay, so I told her about you."

I looked away at the words, as the back of my eyes started to burn from the strength of Jake's gaze.

"I love you, Jake"

"I love you too, George."

The memory of whispered words echoed around me as I tried to keep my composure, taking a big gulp out of my cup for the lack of anything to say or do except jumping into the man's arms.

"I stayed there for six months", he continued once he realized that I wasn't going to say anything, "and then the first thing I did once I got out was to go and talk to my parents. I had already talked to Melissa while I was still in the rehab, and she agreed to divorce me quietly, so the only other people that needed to know were my mom and dad."

"How did that go?", I couldn't help but ask, already imagining the look on Jake's father's face as he learned that his son was a homosexual.

Jake chuckled slightly at the question and shrugged his shoulder.

"About as good as you can imagine. Mom was pretty shaken up, but she came around soon, a fact that she had found me half-dead half a year before was probably what made her do it.", he said, making me flinch, so he went on quickly, throwing me an apologizing gaze.

"As for my dad, he actually didn't say anything, just stood up and left the room and that was the last time I saw him. I am still not sure if I feel better or worse because of it, because if he had yelled, or cursed me, or thrown me out, it would still mean that he felt something for me, that I was still his son, but him not saying anything, keeping this silence between us is so much worse."

Jake stayed for another hour after that, as we turn to talk about our lives in general, silently agreeing to leave those hard topics and the past behind us.

I knew that the past would always be there, no matter how much we both wished it could disappear, but as the time went on and I found myself laughing at a joke Jake told him, I felt hopeful that we could move past it.

After all, the two of us were friends, first and foremost, and I realized just how much I had missed my best friend in the last twenty years. So when Jake stopped at the doorway, preparing to leave and asked,

"Would you be willing to see me again?", I found myself agreeing without a second thought.