Mav had pulled himself up. He felt not much, the pain in his jaw had dulled. It was now just a constant steady ache. His eyes also felt sore, far more sore than his actual jaw. His eyes no longer watered, but he knew, could feel the dried up streaks down his face.
Swallowing was also seemingly difficult. Mav still breathed through his mouth, still scared he wouldn’t have enough air. And every intake, every expansion of lungs rattled. Shook his entire body. Slowly realizing that his body was somehow resetting. Bradley leaving him was going to be his life. This is his pinnacle.
And now, all he could do was go down. So far down.
Mav allowed himself to just rest. To just sit there, leaning on one of the church pews as he gazed at the smiling picture of Carole. The one where they were on the beach, before her diagnosis, before the chemo. It was the week of Goose’s anniversary and Mav had been stateside, took both Carole and Bradley all along the boardwalk. Buying them expensive gifts and food.
He saw the light dim in the church, the sun no longer heavily streaming in through the windows. Counted the panes of windows before he hauled himself up-right. His back, groaning in discomfort. He should get back home.
Well his home, he couldn’t exactly go back to Bradley’s. Couldn’t go back to Goose or Carole or Bradley. Now he had to go back to himself. Go back to ignoring the loneliness. He could barely remember the details of his own house. He’s visited every once and awhile for maintenance, but he hasn’t lived there a long time.
Mav walked out the church, looking both ways for anyone. Desperately trying to hold his heart together as it cracked and slipped through his fingers. He didn’t know why he was trying to hold it together.
Swinging onto his bike, he needed to get drunk. He needed to get really drunk, drunk enough to the point where he could stop caring. He stalled when the engine roared underneath him, waiting for something unknown. He didn’t wait long before he maneuvered himself out of the parking lot.
Already knew which liquor store he was going to stop at. The one that always stocked up on his favorites. He was loyal to it, he had bought his first whiskey there when he turned twenty-one, bought from them when his father died, and bought half the store when Goose died.
It just felt right to continue the tradition. Walking in, he went straight to the hard stuff. The ones he knew would knock him out within a bottle. Overtime, Mav found out which liqueurs did what to his body. Some made him brave, others rather stupid, and some just made him black out. He needed to black out for a long while.
Mav pretended not to notice the cashier's curious gaze. Merely looked down at his phone as she rang him up, ignoring the way she peered down at the bottles than up to him. But she said nothing and neither did Mav.
The ride back was a little difficult. Having to balance two bottles in a bag on one hand as he steered. He managed and soon enough, too soon, he was parked in front of his house. The house was quaint. A one story place with a white picket fence, a swing in the back he and Goose had made for Bradley. The grass was fraying on the edge of yellow but so was everyone else's.
He hesitated to step off his bike. He never liked coming back to this house. Too many memories he never really liked, and he never made many memories he did like here. It was never here.
Sighing, he got off the bike. It was just a house. A sweet and innocent house that he left for a reason. And now he was back.
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Me gustas los aviones, (me gustas tú) - Top Gun:Maverick
Action"What I can tell you, is that you'll be joining a team of the best. The best pilots, the best soldiers, the best mechanics. You'll be in an elite group. But I must say, chances of survival are slim, most of my soldiers don't make it back for dinner...
