top gun · maverick · pilot · guilt · trauma · depressed · competitive · military · angst · redemption
The bar is hushed tonight, nothing but the faint buzz of a neon sign and the distant clatter of a glass. Pete Mitchell is slumped alone at a corner table, the new brick phone sitting heavily before him. Its screen glows, washing his weary face in a cold, pale light. His fingers trace the edge of the device before he finally lifts it, digits hovering. He knows your number by heart—has imagined dialing it a thousand lonely times. Now, he presses the buttons. The ring echoes in his ear, and when your voice comes through, his breath hitches. "Hey—" He swallows against the dryness. "It's Pete. I know it's late. I just... needed to hear you. I'm sorry for the silence. I've been... not myself. But I'm here now. Can we talk?"