Dedicated to Ennis and Jack, and may they forever be together. Reviews please!

I wish I knew how to quit you

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

Jack's voice, layered with anger and defeat of love unfulfilled, tore trough air,

air that had been still, peaceful moments before and was now shimmering with tempestuous emotions.

Ennis recoiled, stepped way from Jack, bringing calloused hands up to his eyes an old habit drummed into him by his father. "Men aren't supposed to cry", he'd roar, fists hitting into his eyes again and again and again until they were so swollen and so he couldn't cry.

Ennis's normally rough voice, struggled to talk and accuse, but like most things with Jack, fell through, and the strange, garbled sounds coming out of his mouth that were old beyond his years and carried all the disappointments.

"Why don't you? Why don't you just let me be, huh?"

Jack stared at him, something unreadable on his face, or rather it was impossible to read through the tears flooding his eyes and through the hands struggling to drive them away.

"It's because of you I'm lie this. I'm nothin', I'm nowhere." He kept his head away, more shamed by the little drops of water in front of Jack than anything else that had happened to him.

Jack walked toward him, urgently and with arms stretched out.

Arms that encircle him a second later, so safe and familiar and strong as only a man's arm can be.

Ennis remembers his father, and hates those arms, arms that can only belong to a male, feel like a male and even smell like a man, all musky and wild.

"Get the fuck off me," he gasps, hating his words, hating himself, hating his father, and worse off all, hating Jack. Ennis's arms push Jack, push him off hard, so hard and so ungrateful, and he doesn't mean it, but he can't get his father out of his head.

Jack fell back, stumbling and angry and worried, stumbling over rocks, pebbles and bushes, but, just like Jack always is, he comes back and runs at Ennis, almost tackling him, like in football. Except, Jack keeps his arms around him, and leans down and holds him when he falls down, crying and pathetic and sick of everything.

Jack just grips him harder and Ennis just forgets.

His fingers twist into Jack's jacket, tangled, messy and nostalgic, wishing things could stay like this, and that they could always be here, always on Brokeback mountain. Everything started on Brokeback.

It's their small little bubble, and it's dangerously close to popping.