Author's Note: So this is my first fanfiction piece ever. I have since written two other pieces, and with each I repeat the process I used for this. I listen to some nice BBM-related music and keep the original novella open and read passages of it frequently. I also only seem to be able to write around or after 3AM. I really enjoy attempting to slip into Proulx's narrative style even though I can never succeed.
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It was those eyes. Ennis got sucked in, lost inside those eyes. They were puppy-dog sweet, but promised eternity. Despite the ache that wracked his guts when he was without Jack, he avoided Jack's gaze when they were close. Because once he started looking, sinking... he didn't know if he could stop. Ennis could not name what he was afraid of losing to Jack, didn't know what he could possibly possess of value, but he guarded it nonetheless.
He held Jack in his lap, holding Jack's hips and breathing him in. It seemed that his scent gathered at the nape of his neck, just waiting for Ennis to come and find it. Jack rode him with the slow, steady rhythm of a man who knew his horses. Ennis flung his arm across Jack's chest and pulled him so close their heartbeats intermingled.
"Jack fuckin' Twist," he exhaled, and hung on for dear life.
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Friend,
Aint gonna make it for November. I had me an acident last week and cain't be "straining" to much accordin to the Doctor. Soon as Im able Im movin to my Daddys. Childress is driving me nuts. Hope we can go fishin again when Im better.
Jack
Ennis crushed the postcard and slammed his fist to the wall. The tire iron. Why the fuck hadn't Jack listened? He doubled over, gasping, when the image entered his mind. He saw Jack's eyes dulling, those damn eyes of his fading away while his blood stained the road. Ennis was suddenly outside, retching up his guts, Jack's lifeless face burned into his mind.
Not this time. Not this time.
There ain't gonna be a next time, Mr. Jack fuckin' Twist.
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Ennis was greeted warmly by Jack's mother, vaguely by Jack's father. He told Mrs. Twist not to wake Jack up, and after he'd had a cup of coffee she showed him to the room where Jack was sleeping, shutting the door quietly behind herself. Jack stirred in his light sleep, bringing his face into view. Ennis involuntarily stepped back, all his doubts about the "accident" swept away, grimacing so hard that he saw red and something deep inside him strained and strained until it finally broke into a million pieces. His harsh breathing and bitter swearing were the only sounds in the room. He finally calmed, and like metal purified in the flames, Ennis' resolve was molten—hot, fierce, and dangerous to touch. Approaching Jack slowly, he placed a tentative finger on the face he hadn't even recognized at first glance, hadn't wanted to recognize as Jack.
As was Jack's way, he immediately sensed Ennis's touch and opened his eyes. Those eyes. The sleepiness clearing from his mind, Jack gave Ennis a wavering smile. To Jack's surprise, Ennis smiled a smile back at him that carried his heart in its quirked edges. He was ready to look, to sink into the depths, to give himself up to Jack… and sink he did, long and hard. As he surrendered, uncoiled the habitual resistance, he understood that there had never been anything to lose.
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Jack knew he must be dreaming. He had dreams like this often, but this one was so sweet that if he woke up now, he would bawl his stitches open, sure as shit. Here they were, grinning at each other like fools, and Ennis actually touching him when his parents could walk in any moment. As if reading his mind, Ennis glanced at the door and went quickly to lock it. Jack struggled to sit up, his mouth hanging open.
"You can't actually…"
Ennis gave him a lopsided grin and said, "Can't what, cowboy?"
Jack, still a little slow from his pain meds, took a minute to reply, "Well, shit, Ennis, what you doin' here?"
Ennis sobered, and sat on the bed opposite Jack. "I'm here a'tell you two things, and listen careful so I don't haveta repeat 'em. You ain't goin' a Mexico no more, and you sure as hell ain't goin' back to Childress. So get used to the idea a stayin' here, 'cause that's how it's goin' a be."
Jack nodded, trying to figure what was going on in that head of Ennis's, too confused to figure out his reaction
"Good. Now c'mere. I'm a get goin' soon."
They embraced, so different from their usual pushing and urgent need, Ennis holding Jack lightly, kissing the top of his head, whispering, "Little darlin'." Jack felt that he was being filled up, like a balloon busting with air, like the endless blue of the sky. He held Ennis's shirt so tight his knuckles went white, leaving small splotches of blood where he pressed his face in. There was no pain, there were no words…just the depth of their bodies.