Chapter Text
Ennis stopped his truck in the parking lot of his dingy apartment complex. He set down his bags and forced his key into the battered keyhole, twisting and slamming himself into the door.
“Goddamnit,” he muttered around his cigarette butt, the tobacco long burnt off. “If this fuckin’ door don’t open-”
Just as he said that, the door gave way into his abode. The place stunk of smoke and whiskey, and bottles were the fanciest decoration he had. Not bothering to unpack, Ennis threw himself down on the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels before settling on rodeo replays. He always watched the rodeo, and even though he thought it was stupid, Jack loved it, and Ennis went along with whatever Jack said.
Suddenly, the mailslot creaked open, and clattered shut as a postcard floated to the floor. Ennis begrudgingly heaved himself off of his couch and went to pick up the mail.
To a Mr. Ennis Del Mar:
You thought you could shake me? I miss you Ennis. See you soon?
From,
Jack Twist
Ennis dropped the postcard to the ground. What kinda sick fucking joke is this. Jack is dead. Ennis knows that. But it's his handwriting. The way the “i”’s are dotted in the weird sort of slanted way that Ennis loved, and the way Jack signed his name, sloppy and quick and only legible if you knew what letters to look for. Ennis knew it’d be idiodic of him to give the card any time of day, but he still rifled through his kitchen's junk drawer, pulling out a crumpled note card and a pen that he stole from the bank down the road. He sat there, staring at the notecard for what seemed like an eternity.
“Now, what the hell do I say?”
Ennis settled on a simple message.
To a Mr. Jack Twist,
You Bet. Meet me on Brokeback.
Love,
Ennis Del Mar