(bbm) walk away
Title: Walk Away
Fandom: Brokeback Mountain
Characters: Jack, Randall Malone
And it’s so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away...
- Ben Harper
Sunlight streamed through a crack in the drawn curtains and into Jack’s closed eyes. He squeezed them shut tighter and turned his head, but the light followed as if it had a vendetta against him. He cringed and opened his eyes, blinking into the malicious sunlight. An arm was draped across his chest, the fingers of the small hand digging into his skin as if they were afraid Jack might slip away in the night. He closed his eyes again and imagined instead that they belonged to big nicked hands, reaching out because they needed to feel him there. The thought brought warmth to his cheeks and caused him to stir below the waist. But rather than wake the sleeping figure beside him, Jack slipped out of his grasp, his bare feet swinging over the edge of the bed until they rested on the cool and dingy wooden floor.
He rose and pulled the curtains shut tight, closing the gap and leaving the room in shadowy darkness. He felt around for his clothing at the end of the bed where it had been hastily discarded the night before. Sliding into his denims, he made his way into the bathroom and shut the door soundlessly behind him. He turned on the faucet and watched the water flow freely from the tap before dipping cupped hands beneath it and catching a handful. He reached up and splashed the cool water onto his face, his eyes avoiding the mirror as he dropped his head back and let the water drip onto his bare shoulders and chest. He brought his head forward again, his eyes catching his reflection. A youthful face stared back at him, worn by the wind and sun. Jack blinked and moved closer to the mirror as his reflection was pulled back into the body of another man, enclosing him in an embrace. For a moment, he could almost feel the weight of those thick arms enveloping him and hear his raspy drawl sigh into his ear.
And then there was nothing, and Jack found himself standing alone in the empty bathroom with a name on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it along with his grief and stared hard at his reflection, unwilling to recognize the grave and dismal face that peered back at him. Turning off the running water, he heard the sounds of someone stirring in the next room, and he reached up quickly to wipe away the teardrops that were threatening to brim over his eyes. The door beside him opened at a snail’s pace and he backed further into the bathroom as a soft-featured face peered inside. He put on a bit of a smile, the crease in his brow betraying his woe, but his companion did not, or pretended not to, notice. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and comforting, and Jack allowed himself to be coaxed out of the bathroom like a startled horse.
They both sat down onto the messed bed and Jack allowed his eyes to wander over Randall’s bare skin, smooth and covered with a thin layer of hair that reminded him of down. His wandering eyes inspired Randall to speak, short and broken sentences laden with excitement, adoration, and something else. He spoke of the conversation from the night before, of offering to give up everything-his job, his wife, his good name-to go away with him, to Lightning Flats, to wherever he wanted to be. The words had stopped Jack’s heart in his chest. Words he had heard so often in his dreams, but in the deep and tragic voice of Ennis. Ennis who held Jack’s heart in his own coarse hands, who had been his destination for nearly twenty years. And who had denied his efforts to put an end to the unceasing loneliness and the hunger for the eternity of that first summer on Brokeback Mountain.
Now, as the breath of another’s intimacy heated the bare skin of his shoulder, Jack could see Ennis’s truck disappearing around the bend after their last goodbye months ago. He could feel the heaviness in the air, hear the echo of their harsh words reverberating off the mountains, and recall the sickness in his stomach as he came to the realization that he knew this would be the last time. The last time he would lose another part of himself as he watched Ennis leave him behind. And perhaps he had nothing more to give. He was a hollow man, every bit of what was once inside him clinging to someone he could never have and an idea that could never come to fruition.
Escaping from his thoughts, Jack noticed that Randall had silenced and was looking meditatively across the room, having grown accustomed to Jack’s distant nature. A heavy sigh sent a numbness throughout his body, and Jack lowered his hand to where the other man’s rested on the bed beside him. Randall’s soft eyes poured into Jack’s, and he leaned forward as if he would kiss him, but Jack turned his head to the side as he always did and Randall’s mouth trailed slowly down his neck. Jack closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips, and allowed his mind to wander back to blue skies, the smell of campfire, and Brokeback Mountain.
- February 13, 2006
Fandom: Brokeback Mountain
Characters: Jack, Randall Malone
And it’s so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away...
- Ben Harper
Sunlight streamed through a crack in the drawn curtains and into Jack’s closed eyes. He squeezed them shut tighter and turned his head, but the light followed as if it had a vendetta against him. He cringed and opened his eyes, blinking into the malicious sunlight. An arm was draped across his chest, the fingers of the small hand digging into his skin as if they were afraid Jack might slip away in the night. He closed his eyes again and imagined instead that they belonged to big nicked hands, reaching out because they needed to feel him there. The thought brought warmth to his cheeks and caused him to stir below the waist. But rather than wake the sleeping figure beside him, Jack slipped out of his grasp, his bare feet swinging over the edge of the bed until they rested on the cool and dingy wooden floor.
He rose and pulled the curtains shut tight, closing the gap and leaving the room in shadowy darkness. He felt around for his clothing at the end of the bed where it had been hastily discarded the night before. Sliding into his denims, he made his way into the bathroom and shut the door soundlessly behind him. He turned on the faucet and watched the water flow freely from the tap before dipping cupped hands beneath it and catching a handful. He reached up and splashed the cool water onto his face, his eyes avoiding the mirror as he dropped his head back and let the water drip onto his bare shoulders and chest. He brought his head forward again, his eyes catching his reflection. A youthful face stared back at him, worn by the wind and sun. Jack blinked and moved closer to the mirror as his reflection was pulled back into the body of another man, enclosing him in an embrace. For a moment, he could almost feel the weight of those thick arms enveloping him and hear his raspy drawl sigh into his ear.
And then there was nothing, and Jack found himself standing alone in the empty bathroom with a name on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it along with his grief and stared hard at his reflection, unwilling to recognize the grave and dismal face that peered back at him. Turning off the running water, he heard the sounds of someone stirring in the next room, and he reached up quickly to wipe away the teardrops that were threatening to brim over his eyes. The door beside him opened at a snail’s pace and he backed further into the bathroom as a soft-featured face peered inside. He put on a bit of a smile, the crease in his brow betraying his woe, but his companion did not, or pretended not to, notice. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and comforting, and Jack allowed himself to be coaxed out of the bathroom like a startled horse.
They both sat down onto the messed bed and Jack allowed his eyes to wander over Randall’s bare skin, smooth and covered with a thin layer of hair that reminded him of down. His wandering eyes inspired Randall to speak, short and broken sentences laden with excitement, adoration, and something else. He spoke of the conversation from the night before, of offering to give up everything-his job, his wife, his good name-to go away with him, to Lightning Flats, to wherever he wanted to be. The words had stopped Jack’s heart in his chest. Words he had heard so often in his dreams, but in the deep and tragic voice of Ennis. Ennis who held Jack’s heart in his own coarse hands, who had been his destination for nearly twenty years. And who had denied his efforts to put an end to the unceasing loneliness and the hunger for the eternity of that first summer on Brokeback Mountain.
Now, as the breath of another’s intimacy heated the bare skin of his shoulder, Jack could see Ennis’s truck disappearing around the bend after their last goodbye months ago. He could feel the heaviness in the air, hear the echo of their harsh words reverberating off the mountains, and recall the sickness in his stomach as he came to the realization that he knew this would be the last time. The last time he would lose another part of himself as he watched Ennis leave him behind. And perhaps he had nothing more to give. He was a hollow man, every bit of what was once inside him clinging to someone he could never have and an idea that could never come to fruition.
Escaping from his thoughts, Jack noticed that Randall had silenced and was looking meditatively across the room, having grown accustomed to Jack’s distant nature. A heavy sigh sent a numbness throughout his body, and Jack lowered his hand to where the other man’s rested on the bed beside him. Randall’s soft eyes poured into Jack’s, and he leaned forward as if he would kiss him, but Jack turned his head to the side as he always did and Randall’s mouth trailed slowly down his neck. Jack closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips, and allowed his mind to wander back to blue skies, the smell of campfire, and Brokeback Mountain.
- February 13, 2006