e_delmar | (no subject)

Current Mood: drunk

(no subject)

What with one thing and another, it's late when Ennis gets back. Late enough it's closer to when the sun rises than when it set. And Ennis-

well, Ennis reeks like cigarettes and booze and sweat and women and he's nearly stumblin' on his feet.

No shape to be goin' back to Junior, at any rate. So instead, he stumbles along the hallways and has to bang on the door a few times before he can get it open. There's a loud scraping of a chair across the floor, and a drunken "shhhhhhhhhh" from Ennis as he swings the door shut.

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"I ain't doin' it."

If anything, his voice is a little nervous.

It's good it's dark. That means Ennis can't see how Jack's face crumples.

His voice, somehow, stays level, and as long as Ennis don't hear the note of panic underneath, he figures, everything'll be fine.

"Why the hell not?"

'Cause his life ain't worth it to him. 'Cause he doesn't want to deal with the pain. 'Cause even with it, ain't like chances are all that great.

'Cause maybe, in the end, he can be back here.

Ennis is coughing again, more nerves than anything this time, and he don't pull away from Jack, not one bit.

"With it, uh. things ain't so great. They made sure I knew that much. And even with-"

His voice trails off a little, and there's just the sound of his wheezes.

"Shit." It's no more than a whisper, and Jack takes a deep breath.

Nods.

"I guess--

"Guess it's up to you, anyhow."

"It just-"

"It's ju-"

"Shit."

Ennis echoes Jack's word, and his hands clench and he swallows around a lump in his throat weren't there earlier.

Jack bites at his lip, runs his tongue along it, and one hand fists in the sheets. He's blinking rapidly, but then, that's pretty hard to see in the dark, too, but his voice has gone hoarse and maybe that just gives it all away.

"Goddammit."

Ennis don't know what to say, he don't know how to reassure Jack when he can't even figure it out himself. But he reaches for that hand, gripped in the sheets, grabs it hard with his own and squeezes, hard.

And that makes Jack's mouth curve into a twisted smile, and he glances over, dark hair rustling against the pillow case.

"Sure wish there were somethin I could do to help you out, bud. Don't want you--"

Ending up like me.

But he stops, shuts up.

"You need me t'do anythin? You just say it." And hell, it's as close to making a swear that Jack has ever come that didn't involve his wedding vows.

There's a sound that would be words, if he could get 'em out.

Words like, I just need this, and come back to the mountains with me, but he ain't never had those words, even without somethin' like this hanging over his head, and all that comes out is a choked sob.

"Hey," and for all his roughness, Jack can be gentle sometimes, and he reaches out for Ennis, strokes a calloused hand over the thinning hair. For once, he ain't got much to say, but if it ain't words Ennis needs or wants, well, that's fine by him. He kisses along Ennis' forehead instead, leans down to kiss his mouth.

Ennis reaches for Jack like he's air, like he's everything he needs, like he can keep him alive. And then he's collapsing again, hands squeezing tight, and cursing a blue streak.

Low, quiet, like he's talkin' to himself-

"It ain't gonna be alright."

Not this time.

"The fuck it isn't."

Jack couldn't save himself

(or, well, he probably could have tried harder, but as it is, no)

and there's nothing he can do now to save Ennis and he has never hated anything so much as this feeling of hopelessness. So he lies, and hopes even harder--except--

Except maybe he ain't quite so sure what it is he's hoping for.

Ennis only knows one thing to hope for, and he ain't sure enough of it to say it out loud, so he don't. Instead he holds on tight, face wet.

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