#with macheresin crumbs

[thebahwrites]

San Diego, 2011

 “I’m sorry… Mav, it’s time to let go.”

Iceman’s words come out marred in grief and true sorrowfulness and as if those feelings physically manifested, blood starts dripping from the corner of his mouth. Hot, wet, sticky, and oh so real of a reminder. He feels it, too, as it drips down his chin and onto his uniform jacket.

His white uniform jacket, ruby droplets catching on to the blue lightning that crossed his chest shoulder to waist, right to left, following the embroidered thread, outlining in blood the blue against pristine white.

 How poetic.

 How pathetic.

Maverick seems to disagree. Stepping forward, the other man reaches for his face, thumb brushing ever so gently the corner of his mouth, uselessly trying to clean away the cold blood. Like everything with Tom, even his blood felt like it’d been stuck in a refrigerator.

But Mav… Mav never seemed to care for it. As if he even welcomed it, never flinching at the cold, never wincing at the icy touches. And he always seemed so good at bridging gaps between them, through time and space, by any means.

Maverick puts both hands around his face and leans in, pressing their lips together. It always feels electric at first, lighting up every nerve in Tom’s body, all of that temporal energy Pete radiated. Past, present, and future all at the hands of a short, inconsequential, reckless… and amazing man.                 A hero through and through.

killshot. - a Top Gun Hero AU (Ch.3)

(Chapter 3 aesthetic.)