Title: Alone
Author: KayBo
Rating: PG
Word count: 550
Disclaimer: Jack and Ennis belong to Annie Proulx and all others who had a hand in bringing them to life. I own nothing and have nothing to sue over.
He is alone again.
Not physically alone, of course. Ennis is sitting right in front of him. Sitting on the couch with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. A look at his face seems to say that he doesn't have a damn care in the world.
Jack hates it. Jack hates the way that Ennis doesn't seem to have a single human emotion. It doesn't seem to matter that they have been together for over 25 years. And it doesn't seem to matter that Jack is slowly falling apart after gaining the one thing he desired most in the entire world.
Ennis chuckles a bit at the comedian. Takes a sip of his beer.
Jack feels an irrational stab of anger that the can receives more physical affection and attention than he does. Ennis hasn't touched him in weeks. Hasn't spoken to him in days. Hasn't looked at him in hours. Hmm, maybe not so irrational after all.
Jack wishes that things were different. He wishes that he could be strong enough to say something to Ennis. In his more absurd moments, he wishes he could read Ennis's mind. In his more pathetic moments, he wishes that they had never moved in together. At least before, Ennis gave him frantic kisses, fevered touches, and desperate embraces. Now he's lucky to get a "good morning" or a clap on the shoulder.
Ennis is still fixated on the television set.
Jack is slowly beginning to hate the inanimate objects in his house. He wonders briefly if this is a sign that he is losing his mind. He decides that he must be because he began hating the people in the quiet Colorado town they live near months ago. He hates them, because Ennis does not. Because Ennis can say hello to them without hesitation. He tips his hat to people on the street. He offers handshakes with nary a sideways look.
He's never like this when it comes to Jack. Jack gets a cursory nod as acknowledgement. Jack gets a sharp look when he reaches to touch Ennis's shoulder. Jack gets a cold bed no matter how many blankets he piles on the mattress. Jack begins to wish, again, that he had left well enough alone. The intensity was gone. The fire reduced to embers.
Ennis frowns at a commercial for women's products. Takes another sip of his beer.
Jack vows to give up drinking. Then remembers that drinking is the only thing that keeps his mind away from troublesome thoughts. Thoughts of his ugly divorce. Thoughts of his son who spat at his feet and vowed that he had no father. Thoughts of losing his Ma to pneumonia. And of course, thoughts of Ennis. Everything always came back to Ennis.
Ennis fidgets a little on the old couch. Adjust himself and settles back into the worn cushions.
Jack adds another object to his list of things to burn. He sighs and focuses on the small screen. He takes a sip of his whiskey and tries to forget. And he only succeeds when he fades into oblivion.
...To Be Continued