𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 32: 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘢 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵

A/N: Due to certain events later in this chapter, expect a lot more foul language than I usually use. I felt the situation called for it...be forewarned. 

>>>>>

I...don't even know how I'm feeling, or how long I'll be feeling it. I'm still feeling it, the day after. Half the day I lay there, simply feeling things I can't explain until around noon, I manage to get myself up from bed, and out of Maverick's arms. The thrill of secrecy is gone. The thrill of anything is gone. If anyone didn't know that Maverick and I are dating, or that he's been sneaking into my room at midnight, they sure as Hell know now...and I couldn't care less. Maverick is barely alive. The only sign of life is the shallow ripple of breath inflating his chest, and the strangled squelch of each swallow. I've never seen him cry so hard and for so long. I think I fell asleep before he did, so exhausted that not even his constant hiccuping could keep me up. All that crying has completely blocked his sinuses. Poor boy sounds like he's got a cold. I guess Carol checked on us last night...or maybe this morning, cause I woke up to a box of tissues on my bedside table and two glasses of water. I drained my glass in one gulp.

It stung like liquor on my tattered throat.

Hours of sobbing will do that to you.

Bleary eyed and weak, I stagger like a newborn foal into the kitchen, not expecting to run into anybody. Viper gave Maverick, Ghost, and I the day off. If anyone is up, it should be Charlie, who still has a class to teach. But it's way past time for her first session, so who's that tiptoeing around the stove?

A flash of caramel catches my eye.

"Oh."

That came out louder than I meant it to.

Ghost visibly startles, her hand nearly slipping from the kettle. Her head jerks in my direction, revealing an ashen face and sunken eyes; my stomach gurgles uneasily. There's an uncanny resemblance between my RIO and a skull, with blue gems set into its eye sockets. The flush that normally marks her cheekbones is nowhere in sight. She's a hundred shades of gray and green, excluding the bags under her eyes, which are a deeper hue of purple than any bruise I've ever seen, and trust me when I say, I've seen plenty. Who knows how long the two of us stand there.

Staring.

Wanting so badly to say a million different things we can barely allow ourselves to think. Everytime a sentence lands on my tongue, I swallow it down, and force myself back to square one.

Ironically, it's my pondering, molasses speaking RIO who has the first word.

"Hey."

My heart lifts a little, to hear her voice.

Such a simple thing, 'hey.' But I'd give up the entire dictionary's worth of words to hear that small greeting over and over again, like a tape on rewind. It feels like honey on my eardrums, which throb and pulse thunderously from last night's headache. A quarter of my chapped lips form a smile as I echo the sentiment.

"Hey."

We share fragments of a smile...

And then she's pouring hot water over a teabag.

And I'm leaning against the counter, telling myself to eat something, but afraid of how my stomach might retaliate if I try. Not even a banana seems safe. What's wrong with me, a hushed whisper releases in my ear. I grimace and pick at the knotted flakes of skin around my fingernail. When did I stop taking risks? The flesh peels easily, like string cheese. Great. Way to help your stomach settle. I feel my face turn green as I shove both hands into my jeans pockets. Right, I didn't change. Neither did Maverick, come to think of it. Honestly, I'm not sure how we got home. I vaguely remember hands pulling us apart on the runway...dragging us gently towards an office — well, first the medical office, where Maverick got checked over. That was the only moment where he stopped crying for the rest of the day. I was still bent over myself, rocking back and forth, but he just quietly held my hand while the nurse examined his scrapes until he was cleared.