FLYBY (b. bradshaw)

𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔-𝙊𝙉𝙀

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯 -

Lilah was asleep when I entered the room. The outside light flooded into the room, casting a shadow onto her. She was above the covers, curled up in my sweatshirt. A pair of sweatpants were discarded on the floor, next to the bag.

I crept over to her, lifting up the thin blanket. I placed it over her body, tucking it gently onto her body. She moaned lightly, turning over. I kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her body was warm. inviting.

A pillow and blanket were neatly folded in the corner for me. I laid them both out onto the floor beside her bed. Reuben must've dropped them off earlier from my bunk.

Quietly as I could, I rifled through my bag until I found a pair of sweat shorts. I tore off my sweat-soaked shirt and pants, replacing them with the new pair. The floor was cold against my back as I started at the ceiling.

The ship creaked and shifted under me. I rolled to my side, releasing the pain of the floor off of my lower back. In the bed beside, Lilah snored softly, occasionally muttering unintelligible words in her sleep.

I must've tossed and turned for a good hour before I finally gave up on achieving sleep. I threw the thin blanket off of me, searching blindly in the dark for a shirt. I kissed Lilah once again on the forehead before I slipped out of the bedroom.

I sighed when I reached his door. A light little shone from under the door. I held my knuckles up to the door to rasp on it, but something stopped me.

She was going to hate me.

But it had to be done.

It took three knocks to either arouse Maverick, or tell him his late night caller was important. He wore no shirt, along with a look that would normally indicate you're about to get bitches slapped, when he opened the door.

"What the fuck do you want?" he growled, yanking me through and into his room. He shoved me roughly onto his unmade bed.

"I'm not a goddamn rag doll." I sneered back, rubbing the spot he'd jabbed me in the shoulder.

"Why aren't you asleep? Mission is go at 0600, and it's 0100, Brad."

"Couldn't sleep." I told him with a shrug. I leaned back onto his bed. "Man, this bed is comfortable."

Maverick jerked me up by one arm. "You have a perfectly nice one in your own room. Get. Out."

He tried using force to get out of the room, but I easily matched him. "I have the floor, Lilah and I got into a fight."

"Then go find somewhere else to bunk." Maverick again tried to kick my ass out. I refused, dragging my feet. "Get out, Bradley Bradshaw!"

"What happened to Mr. Nice Guy this guy?" I asked, leaning back onto Maverick's hands.

A few grunted curse words from his end. "I've already dealt with your evil mastermind of a girlfriend, so get out of my room. I was sleeping! Doesn't anyone around here appreciate sleep?"

"Ah, we've arrived at my point."

And that's the moment Maverick decided to remove his hands from my back. The next thing I knew was the crusty ceiling was in my direct line of vision. And stars. They're were tons of stars.

I heard a few snickers as I shrugged to my feet, gripping my chest. All of the air had been knocked out of it. I rubbed the back of my head, no doubt that by morning there would be a knot the size of a softball.

"What the fuck?" I hissed, swearing at the sharp pain. "I could have a concussion, Mav! You could've killed me, you asshole!"

"Yet, unfortunately, you're still standing here, yapping." Maverick sighed. Sat down. "Why are you here, Brad?"