Me gustas los aviones, (me gustas tú) - Top Gun:Maverick

Me gusta la moto,

Carole was going to die. 

Both Bradley and Mav had already been informed by the doctors, Carole was terminal. Almost past terminal in fact. Less than a month they said. And what’s worse was the fact that she looked terminal. They wouldn’t say it but Carole was pale, sunken skin trying to cling onto life. The chemo had done irreversible things. 

Mav sighed, looked down at the horrible clean surface of the hospital tiles. The room was cold. The room emitted death. Peering up at Bradley and Carole as they whispered to each other. Quickly looking down when Carole gazed up at him. Tried to press himself deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair. 

He shouldn’t be here. Not really anyways. This was something between mother and son, Mav had no purpose to be here. 

“Mav…” Carole’s voice was hoarse and raspy. 

Slowly, Bradley uncurled himself from Carole’s side. His eyes, red and swollen. No longer sobbing like he was a few moments ago. At being called, Maverick straightened himself out. Not being able to truly look at Carole. Not like this. No, looking at her now felt like disrespect. 

“Pete.” She said again, more form to her voice now. Motioning for him to come closer. 

Maverick hesitated. Swallowing  down as he bit his tongue. He really shouldn’t be here. He was intruding. Carole gave him a look. Mav finally stood up but didn’t step further. 

Flickering his gaze at Bradley. For permission, for assurance that he could come closer. Bradley didn’t even look at him. 

But Carole didn’t move her eyes away from him, kept her tired sad eyes trained on Mav. Making him fill himself up with guilt, with remorse. She was dying and Mav could do nothing. The Bradshaws always seemed to die at his side while he could do nothing. 

He took a slow step forward, easing at Carole’s soft smile. Bradley threw him a defensive glance and Mav stepped no further. Perfectly fine at standing at the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the railing. Made his knuckles go white as he forced his glowing smile. 

The smile he knew always made Carole’s heart swoon. Remembers how he had made Goose blush with the smile. 

Carole didn’t gush like she used to. Didn’t have the energy. Mav saw her eyes brighten as she reminisced. Mav followed along with her. The days even before Bradley was born. The stress the two of them managed to put on Goose on their night’s out. The nights that stretched until morning as Mav howled as both Goose and Carole slipped into their own room. And Mav would pass out drunk on the couch.  

And Mav was back where he was. Watching, could do nothing but watch on the sidelines, as Carole lost to cancer. 

Mav was a man of action. A person who never really thought things through, dealt with the repercussions later. But he always did something. Now, he could do nothing. Couldn’t force someone to do something, because no one could do anything. 

They just had to watch as she died. 

Bradley had sunken his head back onto the bed. Running his thumb over his mother’s weak hand, her nails yellow and cracked. Her lips dried, she was always in a constant state of dehydration. 

Mav moved to refill her cup of water. His hands shook as he touched the pitcher, having to set down the cup as he poured in water. Knowing he would drop it otherwise. The room was quiet, the beeps of the machines were piercing but steady.