Family Line

by victorvcle

Summary:

And there was the horrible truth of it, cover to cover: Jake Seresin Jr. had no idea what love was.

Or, Jake Seresin’s story.

Notes:

hi! i won’t lie i honestly wrote this when very sleep deprived while listening to family line by conan gray on a loop (hence the title).

and full disclosure; i have never posted a fanfic before and this is roughly edited. so this mayyyy be bad. but i somehow found comfort in the man whose callsign is literally a children’s word game so here we are.

speaking of names, i made hangman a jr to be dramatic. it doesn’t really mean much besides the everlasting connection to his family.

some warnings beforehand: this does contain child abuse. i don’t think it’s graphic or anything (more like references to things already inflicted rather than the actual event if that makes sense?) if that seems too much for you, no worries! take care of yourself <3 besides that… i think that’s it??? let me know if i’ve missed anything!

Chapter 1: childhood

And there was the horrible truth of it, cover to cover: Jake Seresin Jr. had no idea what love was. He didn’t know how it felt to be received, how to give it himself, how to recognize it when said emotion was being felt.

His mother and father were lost causes from day one. He was the youngest, an obvious accident based on the age gap between he and his five brothers. His parents resented him for being born and it showed. Blamed him for everything they could think of.

You want us to go broke getting you food, is that it?

The night his father was grounded from the marines for good, Jake spent his first night on the streets. He shivered in the October cold with nothing more than a tattered flannel to protect him. The only positive was the cold pavement felt nice against his bruised cheek and ribs.

He was nine years old.

Get out! Get out, you goddamn waste of space!

After, he came down with such a bad flu that the nurse at school called the ambulance when he collapsed. He tried as hard as he could to convince them that he was fine, that he wouldn’t be fine if they put him in there, but they didn’t listen. Something about protocol.

These bills? All your fucking fault

He learned that day that he’d be one hell of an actor in another life. Took a page out of the father he’d only heard about in stories (his charisma long gone by the time he was born) and charmed the hell out of those nurses. “Oh that little scratch? Miss, I’m in a lot of sports. And I’ll have you know that I’m a dedicated defender.”

It made him sick to his stomach to flash the smile he knew he inherited from his father to hide the truth. But the hand on his shoulder tightened with each question about how he got those bruises and he knew what had to be done.

Trying to get us caught, huh? I’ll give them something to catch.

By age ten, he attended his first funeral. His eldest brother. Already gone from the house by the time he was born. Lost in combat, closed casket. Jake couldn’t find it in himself to feel grief. If anything, he was jealous that he had escaped to the only place his father couldn’t follow.

None of his other brothers attended, all serving in various countries of the world.

I wish that casket had you in it. (He wanted to respond, ‘Me too’).

His memories of his other brothers were faint. Light shoves to hide him behind their bigger bodies. Screaming matches between they and their parents followed by echoing blows. His practically forgotten brothers were probably the closest thing he ever had to experiencing love. Because they tried, he knows; to protect him. But eventually their own survival instincts had to kick in and they left him behind.

Maybe that’s where his problem began.

How’s it feel knowing you’re the only one left? Your own brothers chose the service over you.

By the time of his freshmen year, Jake had attended two more of his brother’s funerals. He was getting tired of picking himself off the cold and bloody pavement with his black suit in tatters around him because “It should be him underground instead.”

Jake liked to think of himself as an adapter. His mother smacked him bloody because of a B in math? Then he pulled three consecutive all-nighters to turn it into an A. When they stopped bothering to feed him, he just got a job that paid him under the table and snuck whatever he could whenever he could.

His boss Jerry was a retired air force pilot and far too good for the world. Bought a couch and a pillow and put it in his office after one too many claims of “I forgot my key and my parents are out, can I pick up a shift while I wait?”

He quickly learned his limits and pushed himself just shy of them. He knew he could go three days without truly sleeping, more if he took short naps. He knew he could go even longer without a proper meal, but less without clean water to drink. He knew during the months where it snowed how to avoid making his father really mad (and when had bruised ribs became ‘less extreme’ in his mind?) He even knew how many times he could wear the same pair of socks before he’d have to use spare tip money to go grab some from the Goodwill six miles away.

To everybody else, he was just Jake. Jake, the charming sophomore football star who had lots of admirers but no real friends. Jake, top in his class with an ever-present smirk on his face and a job at the local restaurant where he flaunted his slowly developing muscles while bussing tables.

What they didn’t know was that Jake Seresin Jr. had a smirk sans fraud cockiness once. And that he’d do just about anything to go back to when it was his gummy teeth stained red and blue with some sugary drink and not his stomach or his arms or his wrists.

They didn’t know that the first time Jake felt grief at a funeral was when Jerry died. He was sixteen and two months and had already attended four funerals. He stood stock-still among Jerry’s many air force buddies and felt all consuming waves of grief and anger threaten to overwhelm him. It was only by his highest levels of conviction that he kept himself from doing something stupid.

The worst part was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry at. (And how much that feeling reminded him of his father). He ultimately blamed his anger on the realization that he must be cursed. That everybody associated with him was doomed to leave or die or hurt him.

After the service concluded, one of the older men in uniform grabbed him before he could scatter off. “You remind me of a young Jerry. A good soldier in the making,” he said with strong conviction.

Some part of Jake wanted to laugh. Because of course he was a good soldier in the making. His father was a Marine, his brothers all in various branches. It would only make sense for Jake to do the same. And so he nodded, thought of the man now six feet under and his past occupation. “I’ll be heading for the naval aviation program the first chance I get, sir.”

Get your head out of the clouds and look at me when I fucking speak to you.

The man smiled, not unkindly. “That makes us rivals, young man. Fly true.”

Jake nodded, and that was that.

The following week, he quit working at the restaurant. The new owner didn’t leave the key underneath the big stone and sold the couch and pillows to someone random. Jake wandered from shelter to shelter until he eventually made his way home.

His parents didn’t even realize he was gone at all.

You look like somebody just ran you over! Too bad they didn’t.

By seventeen and a half, Jake had already applied and been accepted to the Navy. He buried the acceptance letter under his mattress and took the blows quietly when his parents claimed he was a worthless nobody with no plan.

Do you possess a single intelligent bone in your body?

The day before his graduation, his mother was nice for perhaps the first time in his life. She sat him at the table as if he hadn’t been shoved into it countless times over the years and went through an old photo album. The entire time, he kept waiting for the catch of her kindness. The punchline, even (ha). He felt off kitler, unused to genuine care from someone usually so harsh. (And what irony that was, rejecting the very thing fundamental to human success).

Then his mother stopped on a high school photo of his father and any humor left him within a beat. Because there it was. The resemblance between he and his father so uncanny he felt disoriented. And he realized this was her ploy all along, whether intentional or not.

To make him realize he’d never truly be free.

Maybe, he realized, it was because she knew that he was leaving the second he could. Maybe some sick maternal part of her hated the thought of him leaving even though she’d practically made it her mission to make it known that she didn’t want to be a mother to him. Whatever the legitimate purpose was, he tried his best to resist it.

The next morning, he punched and broke a mirror. The shards cut his bare shins but he barely glanced at them. Downstairs, he could hear the sounds of his father complaining about everything and everything. His cap and gown hung from the splintered door of the bathroom, a brilliant maroon color decorated with a blue valedictorian sash. Coincidently, it was also his birthday. His eighteenth birthday.

In the end, the choice was simple. Jake Seresin Jr. booked a one-way ticket to get his wings with nothing more than a bag on his shoulder.

Chapter 2: javy

Summary:

Jake met Javy Machado on the first day of flight school.

Notes:

hello again :))

please don’t take this quick update as a sign that i will update this fast every time because me having a day to do nothing was a fluke and i felt inspired. (not inspired enough to spend time really editing it haha so i’m sorry if there are any mistakes).

this whole chapter is brought to you by lana del rey’s ‘hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have.’ and a quote from a book i read a few years ago.

also! i know close to nothing about how the navy works in terms of steps to becoming a naval aviator and google confused me so just … look away if you know how it works and this is wrong.

continued warning of past/referenced child abuse. same as last chapter, nothing too graphic.

Jake met Javy Machado on the first day of flight school. Their meeting itself was anticlimactic. A sparse introduction before they separated to their respective rooms (two doors down from each other.) Javy wasn't Coyote yet, and Jake not Hangman. They were just Javy and Jake. 

Javy, who came from a small town with a loving mother and father and three sisters of various ages. Javy, who knew he was a great pilot but was okay with being second or third or even fourth best if it meant he could keep flying. 

Jake, who came from a big state and a big house devoid of care. Jake, who fought tooth and nail every single day so that he could find his place at the top, so he could be remembered by everyone he crossed paths with. 

So no. Their meeting was anticlimactic. And Javy could have very well left their shy acquaintance at that. Jake certainly wasn’t going to initiate a friendship. But for some godforsaken reason, Javy made it his mission to do so. 

Everywhere Jake turned, Javy was there waiting. It was like Javy realized that if he didn’t Jake would have nobody. A slowly sinking ship with no life raft. 

How can you be so unloveable?

Jake resisted the pull of friendship for months. Hashed out vicious threats and comments thinly veiled as a shield for his slowly dwindling esolve. He made himself the well-known asshole that put everything towards being number one, everyone else be damned. His call sign came from a particularly notable case of him taking the shot at the expense of his wingman.

Nobody wanted to be around him. 

And that only made Javy try harder. 

“Hey, a new bar’s opening five minutes away. First round on me?” 

And who could refuse free drinks. 

After that one beer, they became inseparable. It was like the dam had burst open and Jake had 20 years worth of friendship to catch up on. People watched with disapproving eyes as they jostled and joked with one another good-heartedly and wondered how in the hell the sweet Javy could possibly put up with asshole Jake Seresin. 

Jake even asked Javy why he tried so hard to be friends once. It was after one too many beers and the post hop glow he always got when he knew he flew well. 

Javy had simply shrugged in response with a small smile. “I don’t know, man. But I gotta say, I’m damn glad I did.” 

Jake had to take a swig of beer to hide the unconscious smile that made its way on his face at that. He had a reputation to uphold.  

It didn’t take long in their friendship for Jake to start revealing pieces of his past. (There were only so many times he could avoid speaking of his childhood). He did his best to keep it light, figured Javy would slowly fill in the blanks and complete the puzzle of Jake Seresin. 

How’s it make you feel knowing nobody in this goddamn world could give a shit about you?

Each little detail left Javy’s entire body either tense with anger or sad. He shed a tear when he learned that Jake had never had a homemade cake or opened presents. But his fists clenched when he learned what caused the faint scars on his back. 

One strike for every tear that falls. Oh! That’s one right there! 

The emotions that would cross Javy’s face always confused him. “It’s in the past,” he’d be quick to assure him. 

Javy would shake his head rapidly. “That shit never should’ve happened to you, man.” 

Those interactions always made him feel out of his element. Not because of the anger or sadness in itself, but more so of the fact that it was for him rather than because of him. It was like seeing his parents inverted. (Angry out of love, his future therapist would call it. Not hate.)

Then Javy would brighten up and do something stupid to lighten the mood and they’d go back to normal until the next piece of information. 

On his birthday, Javy baked him a cake. It was vanilla with chocolate frosting and it had atrocious yellow smiley faces all over the sides with candles dripping wax all over  the top. 

Don’t celebrate your birthday. Worst day of our goddamn lives. 

It tasted horrible. He ate three slices of it with a dopey look on his face. 

Afterwards, Javy hesitantly brought a box towards him. It was wrapped in newspapers but it had a red bow hastily taped on top. 

“Now how you go about opening this is very important,” Javy said with a devious grin. “You can either tear it open like a four year old, or slowly unwrap it like a classy gentleman. Your choice.”

Jake chose the fast route. The top of the box was carelessly thrown to the side as he greedily opened the box. It was like Javy would take it away if he didn’t open it fast enough. 

Jake wasn’t sure what he expected to be inside. A simple note with a middle finger as a joke maybe. A gift card to some random store he went to on his days off possibly. He certainly didn’t expect it to be a small keychain of an exact replica of the cake he just devoured. The laugh it startled out of him was unintentional, but once it started he couldn’t hold it in. 

He laughed until tears leaked out of eyes and even then chuckled some more looking at it. “Thank you,” he managed to choke out once his laughter faded. 

“No problem, man. Always.”

(The tears after that weren’t because of laughter). 

For Christmas just months shy of graduation, they were granted two weeks leave. Jake planned to spend it messing around on an empty base, but Javy didn’t even hesitate in offering his house. “Come on. My mom’s been dying to meet you.”

“I don’t want to impose…”

“Shut up with that. If anything I should apologize to you in advance for the way my sisters will act.” 

And it was decided. 

Javy grew up in a two story house in Pennsylvania. The outside was light blue and there was a well kept garden around the walkway to the front door. Jake felt nervous for perhaps the first time since seeing his own parents when walking up those steps. 

The nerves quickly dissipated when the front door slammed open and out rushed four women all charging towards them with open arms. “Javy, my baby boy!” 

Jake had watched with a small smile as Javy’s two little and one big sisters all attacked various parts of his body without true malicious intent. 

“Jake, right?” The older man with kind eyes prompted. 

Jake straightened and held out a hand. “Yes, Sir. Thank you for having me.” 

The man waved him off. “None of that sir here. Just Leo will do.”

On the side of them, Javy’s mom slowly pulled back and let go. She was a beautiful woman, laugh lines present next to her eyes and mouth naturally. “And I’m Gia,” she said before pulling him in a hug just as tight as the hug she gave her son. 

Over her shoulder, Jake shot Javy a helpless look. Javy only laughed. 

Don’t you try to leave, boy. No other family’s ever gonna want your sorry ass. 

That Christmas, despite his initial fears, turned out to be the best he’d ever had. There wasn’t much competition, obviously, but the fact Javy’s family welcomed him in their home with no questions asked made him feel just as warm as Gia’s homemade hot cocoa did. 

Even Javy’s sisters treated him more like a brother than a guest. They ran in circles around him to try and make him dizzy and demanded he help be an accomplice to opening their presents early. They even taught him how to braid their hair, just so they could pester him to do it every morning. 

On Christmas day, Javy laughed so hard he fell over when he opened Jake’s gift to find a keychain of what he believed to be a wolf, the result of their forced viewing of Twilight weeks prior. 

“This ain’t even a wolf! It’s a coyote.”

Jake scoffed. “Same difference.”

(he saw it alongside Javy’s keys the same day, eventually leading to his call sign). 

Gia and Leo even got he and Javy matching Thing 1 and Thing 2 hats as gifts. 

Jake was Thing 1, naturally. 

When the leave ended the day after New Years, Jake found himself a part of the Machado family group hug. 

Gia gently grabbed him by the cheeks before he could turn towards the car and looked him in the eyes. “Now you keep my boy safe out there, and yourself too. I expect you to be alongside him any time he calls his mama.”

“Yes ma’am.” She kissed his cheek. 

“Bye Mr. Jake!” The youngest said in a still innocent voice, waving wildly. He waved back just as passionately.

Upon returning to base, Jake found that he couldn’t fit everything he owned in his one bag anymore. The thought filled him with equal parts fondness (because Leo and Gia practically gave everything they could away to him) and anxiety for his rapidly changing situation. He was used to being solo and packing light. This was all new to him. 

The hell you think you’re packing up for? This is our shit, go be on the streets where you damn well belong. 

And the hope it provided was a very dangerous thing. But he found that he liked it. Even knowing that most likely this camaraderie would fizzle out when they eventually separated for missions and deployments. It would suck, going back to being alone. But he would enjoy this while it lasted and eventually bounce back if need be.

They graduated from flight school (one and two, respectfully) five months later. Javy’s family spent just as much time gushing over him as they did their own son. They both were packing up their things when they received twin letters. 

Top Gun, it read. 

They were both going to Top Gun. 

 

Notes:

next chapter is top gun! and some…familiar faces which will be there *smirks*

Chapter 3: introduction

Summary:

Jake never told anyone this—not even Javy—but he had been in one meaningful relationship before.

Notes:

heyyyyy! i warned you all that updates would be random so pls don’t hate me for taking longer than a day. i did make this one a little longer to help make up for it.

this chapter is inspired by ‘head over heels’ by tears for fears because the radio decided to play it and all i could think of was this story. three days later it’s #6 on my most listened to songs of the month.

anyways, this chapter has the same warnings as normal: not insanely graphic (i think???) child abuse. HOWEVER, this one also contains homophobia. (also not insane but it is present) the f slur is used but as it is not my slur to reclaim, i simply said *f slur*. i want to preface that i am bisexual myself, and i do not mean any harm by including homophobia into this story. it is purely for this fictional story. that being said, if this seems too much for you; no worries! always take care of yourself.

also everything i know about pool is from this movie or from playing 8-ball on iphone so…hope this is right!

ily all and thank you for so many hits :)

Jake never told anyone this—not even Javy—but he had been in one meaningful relationship before. 

It was when he was a freshmen in high school, baby faced and bruised under ill-fitting flannels. The culprit was a sophomore named Tyler. He was on the swimming team and wore joggers with a different colored hoodie every day. 

They shared a history class together. History was always Jake’s favorite class. The facts never changed. 

But Tyler hated History. He claimed that it was boring to learn about people that had already died. So when the teacher whose name Jake doesn’t even remember paired them together, Jake was reluctant. 

If he tried hard enough, he could still picture the way Tyler slowly turned towards him and smiled in a “what can you do?” way. His teeth were perfectly white but slightly crooked on the right side. Jake knew when he lost his train of thought while looking in Tyler’s eyes that he was in trouble. 

It all happened quickly from there. 

Making a poster board turned into waiting for Tyler to get out of practice so they could go share a milkshake like some 60s heterosexual couple in a retro diner. Little glances turned into “meet me outside the locker room”, into having a place to go when Jake’s parents decided they didn’t want Jake around. Which, unsurprisingly, turned out to be a lot  (He had his designated pillow in Tyler’s house). 

Jake never deluded himself into thinking it was love. He wouldn’t have even recognized it if it was. But it was … comfortable. 

Tyler was nice. He never pushed for more—never asked about the rings of purple around his wrists or why he needed a place to stay so much—just held out his hand with a crooked smile. 

And he made Jake think of something besides his parents relentless abuse. 

But then they became foolish with time. The group of football players that found them kissing outside the locker room didn’t like the idea of two boys kissing. And they made sure to make it known.

They made it so known, in fact, that Jake Seresin Sr. got wind of his boy being gay. And he was not happy about that. Bisexual, Jake wanted to correct the whispers. But he doubted it’d matter. Liking boys was too much for his Texan proud father and liking girls too wouldn’t soften the blow (ha).   

You were already bad enough. But to be a *f slur*? I hope you know you deserve what’s about to happen to you.  

The beating his father gave him was the worst one of his life. Three ribs were fractured. More bruised. His ankle was sprained so badly he couldn’t move for two days afterwards. He only got up on the third day because of his bladder. 

Even years later, the fracture never properly treated can be seen if he moves just right. 

But back then, Jake was still barely mobile when Tyler moved away. He never saw him again. Didn’t even bother trying to find him. The message of leaving with no word was clear; don’t bother me. And Jake accepted that. 

Eventually any residual feelings faded into fondness, and even that fondness faded into nothing more than a twinge of his heart. Tyler became a distant memory of his past.

Until Jake Seresin made it to Top Gun, saw Bradley Bradshaw for the first time in a packed bar, and felt like he was a freshman all over again. 

He came in wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt Jake had ever seen, looking like some ‘80s pornstar with a mustache sitting right above his lips. The bar patrons clearly knew him based on the little pats on his shoulders and he moved effortlessly through the crowded bar. 

Somebody swooned nearby when he briefly touched their waist while walking by. Jake could relate. 

When Javy saw who Jake was staring at, he snorted. “That’s Bradley Bradshaw you’re ogling. Probably your biggest competition for the name on the plaque, if the word on the streets is true.”

“Not ogling,” Jake denied. “Scoping out the competition.”

“Sure, man. Sure.”

Jake made it a point not to stare or mention the man he knew would haunt his thoughts for the rest of the night. He could feel the presence there, begging to be watched. But he resisted the pull and instead engrossed himself entirely in the game of pool against Javy.

He was winning, as always. But his distraction in the form of one incredibly gorgeous man proved to work in Javy’s favor. They were down to one ball each when somebody just on their right called “Next game.”

It was by pure focus that Jake managed to get the 8-ball in his chosen pocket. Because that wasn’t just somebody. 

It was Bradley. 

With an all too-knowing look towards Jake’s twitching hands, Javy took a step back from the table and handed his cue to Bradley. “Perfect timing. I need another beer if I’m going to keep losing to this asshole.” He gestured to Jake’s half empty beer. “You good, man?”

“Oh I’m good, Coyote. I’m very good.” Jake finished assembling the ball arrangement and in a show of arrogance, broke them with as much power as he could muster with a straight face. He glanced at his best friend with his most cocky smirk. “In fact, I’m too good to be true.”

Javy rolled his eyes and walked away. 

“Cute,” Bradley commented from the other side of the table. Jake slowly moved his eyes to where Bradley lent against the dark wood, watching him. It took everything Jake possessed to refrain from collapsing with the barely barely concealed something there. 

Oh this was going to be dangerous. 

Jake liked the thought of it. 

But he couldn’t let Bradley know he liked it. That would ruin the fun of this interaction. So he tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow in the most obnoxious way possible. “I actually prefer handsome or god-like but I suppose cute will have to do.”

“Oh, modest too, I see.”

Internally, Jake preened at the quick banter. He hadn’t had somebody this fast to combat with words since Javy. But Javy, bless his heart, would always be in the platonic category in his mind. 

Externally, Jake shrugged before making room for Bradley to take his turn. “A man should be aware of his talents.” He watched with rapt attention as Bradley expertly shot a ball into the pocket farthest from him.

“Stripes,” Bradley called. He promptly shot another in. “Awareness of one’s talent’s may be smart, yes. But something tells me you’re aware only of talents, not faults.” 

Jake almost laughed, echoes of his father on the forefront of his mind. If only Bradley knew. (If Jake could help it, he never would). 

When Bradley just barely missed a shot, Jake swiftly knocked two solids in separate pockets at the same time. “You can’t be aware of something that doesn’t exist, darlin’.”

One more solid went in before the fourth just barely grazed the pocket closest to Bradley. He straightened once more and tried to gauge if the pet name was too far for the other man. 

You call your boyfriend Ty? I’ll show you what can be tied. 

But if the pet name bothered Bradley, he didn’t show it. (The thought set fire to Jake’s veins). Without a care in the world, he moved by Jake and shot in the pocket where he once stood. 

The left side of Jake’s body burned. Or maybe that was just his heart. 

“You new around here?” Bradley asked. “Never seen you before.” 

“That your way of saying you’d remember me if you had seen me before? Oh, I’m flattered, darlin’.” Bradley gave him a flat stare. “To answer your question, yes. You see,” and Jake leaned in real close, forced Bradley to look away from the table and focus only on him, “I’m a pilot. And this island here has the best school for pilots like me. It’s called—”

“Top Gun,” Bradley interrupted and turned away. “I’m aware. I’ll be there with you too, it seems.”

Jake found that he did not like the way Bradley put a few feet of space between them whilst focusing on other things. He thought for a moment that he’d do just about anything to make sure they stayed that close forever; that he’d risk it all to keep Bradley’s attention on his face. A scary thought for a man with so many secrets. 

But some things in Jake’s life he had learned that he couldn’t control. It seemed that Bradley Bradshaw was turning out to be on that list.

“You know what that means, right?” Bradley glanced back towards him (thank god). “You and I, we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other. Flying, learning, bunking…”

“Competing,” Bradley added with something not quite a smile, but not a frown either. 

“Oh, that, too.” 

“Well then, here’s your preview of how that’ll go. Just to set the expectations.” And then Bradley Bradshaw knocked the 8-ball into the pocket diagonal to him with a downright sinful smirk. 

Never before had Jake seen a sexier sight. 

“Well-played, darlin’. Well played.” Defeat was something tough for Jake to accept, but he figured he’d make the one-time exception for the man in front of him. Top Gun, though? That would be another story. And he made sure Bradley knew that, too. “But I think we’ll have to wait and see if the sequel has the same ending.”

“Yes,” Bradley’s eyes glinted with the challenge. “Yes, I think we will.”

Notes:

next up will actuallllllly be top gun (maybe)

Chapter 4: top gun take one

Summary:

Top Gun was, admittedly, nothing like Jake expected.

Notes:

*insert that meme that’s like heyyyyy how y’all doing???*

cant believe that i’ve become the fanfic writer that i as a reader hate because they makes me wait forever for updates! so i am sorry about that.

everybody at my work has been calling out. i swear i’ve practically been living there (pain).

so this chapter has pretty much been written in my break room or in sleep deprived hazes at night.

in better news, i actually worked out how i want the rest of the story to go so it has direction now. peep: the TENTATIVE chapter count :)))

anyways: same warnings as always: mild child abuse, a minor character death, and minor (?) homophobia. let me know if i missed anything.

Top Gun was, admittedly, nothing like Jake expected. 

He knew theoretically that it was a fighter pilot school. The best one in the world, even. But knowing in theory and seeing it done in practice were two entirely different things. 

Jake felt like he was back in high school; sitting in the back row of the classroom and observing the others around him. Except rather than flying under the radar as the smartest in the room, he was among two dozen other pilots within the top one percent of the Navy. 

Everywhere he went, he had to put on a good show. Pretend to be nonchalant and live up to his reputation as one unfazed by everything and willing to do anything to be on top. 

Only Javy was allowed to see his frequent freakout sessions in the privacy of their shared quarters. 

It wasn’t that he wasn't having fun—if he was being honest with himself this was the most thrilling experience of his life—it was that for the first time in a while, his place at the top was being threatened. By none other than the man who haunted his dreams: Bradley Bradshaw. 

The man flew like he had all the time in the world, but he pulled off maneuvers Jake swore he had only ever seen in action movies. Then he’d step out of the plane  and look at Jake with some self-satisfied smile that screamed your move, Hangman. 

And every single time, Jake would take the bait. Sometimes his arrogance would work in his favor. He was, after all, one of the best fighter pilots of the modern generation for a reason. Other times, however, Bradley’s grandfather- flying tendencies would win him just enough points that one bad hop would put Jake in second. 

Their rivalry garnered attention from all sides. Ego vs wit. Fast and impulsive vs slow and precise. There was no clear winner in sight. 

Their classmates placed bets on everything they possibly could involving them. Who would get out first in their recent hops, who’d taunt the other first, which they thought would win the trophy; anything they could think of. 

The feud carried over beyond the hops, even. Hands were exchanged with every game of pool or darts and the tension between the two reached levels so high that Jake swore somebody could cut it with a knife. Javy even jokingly tried, once. 

Even their teachers edged the competition on. 

And Jake wouldn’t lie to himself, he loved the attention the rivalry brought him. It may have made everybody resent him for his inability to act nice but they bregrunently respected him and that’s all he really cared about anyways. 

Or so he told himself. 

Besides, he had Javy. Javy: who listened to his continuous rants about the way Bradley’s eyes changed colors depending on the lighting or how his face twisted  exquisitely (Yes, Javy, that is possible) when he would get angry at Jake. Javy; who was consistently by his side with warning remarks when their taunts went too far. Javy was enough. 

Until he wasn’t. 

The call came three weeks into the program, disguised as an unknown number. He was alone when he answered; and that was his first mistake. 

“Jacob.”

One word, southern drawl accentuating the vowels of his full name. And suddenly Jake was 9 and bleeding from his nose and mouth, trembling with fear towards a man he could only see through teary, blurry vision. 

Jake froze. He could feel his throat tighten. His voice sounded like rocks scraping against each other when he forced himself to respond to the hidden demand. “Sir.”

A smoker's chuckle sounded across the speaker. Jake remembered the feeling of those cigarettes being burnt out against his skin. If he tried hard enough, he could hear his own high-pitched screams in his mind. He found himself unconsciously tracing one of the more prominent ones on his ring finger. 

“You are not an easy man to reach. I’ve been trying to get you for quite some time.” 

For a man of seemingly endless taunts, Jake's brain to mouth function was struck frozen by the barely veiled threat in his own father’s words. “Sir?”

“So you left home to be in the skies. What, couldn’t handle being in real combat?” When Jake didn’t respond, the older man’s voice tightened. “Well?”

Jake thought of Jerry. Thought of the way he described the freedom of being in his plane during war. 

On the ground, you’re able to be found. But nobody would think to look to the skies. Hidden in goddamn plain sight. 

Joining the Navy was originally a short-term way out for Jake. A branch none of his brothers or family members had already served in. But eventually it morphed into a homage to Jerry and a long-term escape from his parents' abusive clutches. 

They could search the entire Earth and never find him if he was in the skies. 

But he couldn’t very well tell the abuser himself that. 

“I wanted to pave my own path, sir.” 

“What a goddamn liar.”  The cackle which escaped then sent shivers down Jake’s spine. “A liar and a pussy, incredible combo. Tell me, those Naval officers of yours; they know that you’re a *f slur*? I bet no, right?”

Jake’s hand tightened on his phone. The other clenched into a fist so tight his nails split the skin of his palm. The spike of pain grounded him to the moment. A glance at the clock revealed he had less than an hour until his next hop. “What do you want?”

“Your mother died,” Jake’s father finally admitted with an apathy similar to that of somebody talking about the weather. “It wasn’t pretty.” 

For a moment, the Earth stood still as images of a woman once pretty before alcohol and drugs tainted her flashed across his vision. 

Jake didn’t fool himself into believing that his mother loved him. She was more often than not cruel and vicious. She hit him quite a number of times alongside his father and stood by silently on the rare occasions she wasn’t feeling up to using him as her punching bag. 

But there would be medical products always available to him in the bathroom cabinet. A supply of bandages and painkillers that never ran out for 18 years, no matter how frequently used. He never thanked her for it; same way as she never told him they were there because of her in the first place. It was their one and only common ground. Their unspoken agreement. 

To hear she died was not surprising. The spike of marbled and tangled emotions the news evoked, however, was. It wasn’t quite grief, wasn’t quite happiness, but rather somewhere in between the two. 

He took the news the same way he took mission perimeters. And his response mirrored that of the soldier he had become in the years since he was trapped in that house. “Acknowledged.”

“ Acknowledged ? Stop the fucking soldier persona. Don’t act like you’re better than me, boy. Does it bother you?”

Jake hated being confused around his father. It gave the man more power over him. “I’m sorry?”

“Does it bother you that every goddamn place you go, death and destruction follows you?” The smile was clear in his father’s voice when he continued, “You’re a fucken death magnet. Pullin’ people in just to kill ‘em.”

Jake found he had no response to that. But he felt the words settle into his skin the way only his father knew how. 

“The funeral is tomorrow. 9am, or, sorry; 0900 hours. Be a man and show up.” The line clicked dead. 

Afterwards, Jake had no way of knowing how long he stood there. It was as though he was in a trance. 

Eventually, he pulled himself upright and placed the mask of the arrogant Jake Seresin on his face. The smirk which greeted those he passed appeared the same as it did everyday to anyone without the care to look. Only Javy would have the compassion to see his turmoil just beneath the surface. 

But Javy was in the locker room when Jake and Rooster faced off for their hop, and therefore was not present to witness any cracks within his facade. 

He hoped that once he was in the air, his head would clear. Knowing he was as far as he possibly could from his father normally did the trick. But the words spoken over the phone had taken root in his mind and his movements were sluggish. 

Within ten minutes, Rooster had gotten the better of him. And it was by pure instinct that Jake kept his aircraft from crashing into Rooster’s when he turned back to go to base. 

“What the hell?” Rooster yelled from across their shared coms after he recovered from swerving. “You trying to get me killed?”

Death magnet.

On a normal day, Jake would have reacted to that statement with indifference. Then he would have conjured some sharp quip and a smile and that would have been that. But his father’s words echoed in his skull and he felt a chilling sensation creeping along his spine. 

By the time he landed his plane—with perhaps his worst landing to date—he found that he couldn’t quite control his body. It felt as though his brain and the rest of him had disconnected. Even standing upright took everything within him to accomplish 

So when Rooster charged his way and shoved him backwards, he stumbled. The man’s face flashed with something when he saw Jake’s face, but it was gone too quickly for Jake’s muddled mind to decipher.

“If you fly like that again, you'll run anyone with you six feet under.” 

For a man everybody looked at as if he hung the sun, Rooster’s words could often hold a bite up to par with Jake’s father. Their words even held an uncanny resemblance to each other.  

So maybe Jake’s father was right: and Jake really attracted death and destruction wherever he went. 

So he did the only thing a reasonable person would do: he left. For the first time since he had met Bradley, he simply nodded to the man and walked away without responding nor looking back. 

[If Jake had turned around, he would have found Bradley standing stock-still with shock and concern flickering across his face]. 

Notes:

as always, kudos and comments are appreciated !!

next: a javy chapter *smirks*

Chapter 5: gaping wounds

Summary:

Javy Machnado was born with no brothers. And yet Jake Seresin managed to become one in all ways except blood.

Notes:

any of you ever work so many hours at part-time job that it practically becomes a full-time job? lol i have quite literally worked 35 hours for four weeks straight but it’s fiiiiiine.

anyways here is this -be warned- short chapter. BUTTTTT that is because this was originally supposed to be combined with the next chapter as well but it was growing too long so i split it into two.

i promise the next chapter will be long enough to make up for this. (2.2k and counting!)

but here is javy’s pov :)

Javy Machnado was born with no brothers. And yet Jake Seresin managed to become one in all ways except blood. 

The beginning days of their friendship became fuzzy with time, but Javy never forgot the way Jake always seemed surprised whenever Javy would actively seek him out. It was as though nobody had ever wanted Jake’s company without needing or expecting something in return. 

He was glad to be the exception to that rule. 

Over the years, Javy had learned to read Jake like a book. Subtle changes to Jake’s facial features spoke more than any words that would ever leave his mouth. 

Sometimes it astounded him how little everybody else paid attention. Didn’t Bradley Bradshaw see that with every insult Jake spewed he was really trying to show his care? To Javy, everything Jake did was so obvious. Jake’s face would twist into a grimace anytime Bradley turned away with a scowl before returning to his persona of an apathetic asshole. 

And okay, yeah, maybe Javy would be the only one to hear the tirades of incomprehensible feelings Jake felt towards Bradley. And that he was probably the only one that knew Jake had emotions besides his false arrogance. And that he was definitely the only one to know about his horrendous childhood (and even then—only minimal details). But that was really only because he was the only one who would actually listen to Jake. 

Javy had a theory. He believed that if people looked beyond the facade Jake had so carefully handcrafted, they’d see what laid beyond; a man who had been wrongfully devoid of love his entire life and yet held too much [that he didn’t even realize] in his heart. 

His love was in the Christmas presents he bought every year for each of Javy’s sisters. It was in the card and flowers he sent Javy’s mother on Mother’s Day. His love was in the way he wore headphones to bed on times of leave so that his alarm wouldn’t wake Javy up when he went for a run before the sun was even up.

In every bit of information Jake remembered, he expressed his love and care (despite not even knowing it).  

Javy knew that Jake had no recognition for love. The small tidbits he’d been enlightened to of Jake’s upbringing made it clear as to how his lack of awareness came to be. 

But it existed . And Javy had made it his long-term mission to help Jake realize the joys of being loved and being able to love. 

Even if that meant standing by or listening attentively as Jake worked through his feelings towards his fellow pilot. 

If he was being honest with himself: Bradley Bradshaw wouldn’t have been his first choice for Jake. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Bradley, he actually enjoyed the company of the man both on the ground and in the air. But despite being intelligent up in the clouds, the man was not at all on the same page as Jake. 

Sometimes his insults crossed the line and in Javy’s opinion, Jake deserved better than that. 

But Javy knew that once Jake set his mind to something, it was best to stand by and offer as much moral support as he could muster. Because Jake was going to do it regardless, and having somebody by his side would make the fallout more bearable. 

Javy just didn’t expect one of the few times he left Jake alone to be when the man fell apart. 

He knew as soon as he saw Jake that something was very wrong. 

Jake looked far too similar to the way he did when Javy first met him. His shoulders were drawn forward and the lines of his face were more prominent in his unusually pale skin. Even worse, his eyes looked almost glazed. 

It took Javy three times of saying his name for Jake to notice him being there. “Hey, man. You good?”

“Fine.” And then he brushed past Javy towards the instructors quarters. 

Dread began to settle in his stomach. Something was not right. . 

“Woah there, slow down! What’s the rush?”

“I have to speak with them.” 

“About what?” 

Jake’s face twisted with an anger that hadn’t been directed towards Javy in a long time. “What’s it matter to you? Do I have to tell you everything now or somethin’?”

Javy felt like a rug had been pulled out from underneath him. Not being able to understand the source of Jake’s anger was causing any semblance of control Javy had to slip. He had no context or method or being able to help Jake. And he couldn’t find any clues within his best friend’s face. He had no idea what to do in this situation. 

“Jake, I need you to take a few deep breaths with me and try to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“I don’t want your goddamn help.” Jake pointedly stepped around a slightly gaping Javy and stalked away without a single backwards glance. 

He wasn’t on base for three days.

Chapter 6: puzzle pieces

Summary:

The night Javy’s mother met Jake, she pulled Javy aside while Jake was busy playing with dolls with his kid sister.

Notes:

omg i just wanna give every fanfic writer who has a job, attends school, and still posts regularly the longest hug ever.

no idea how they do it fr fr.

about half of this chap is quite literally the result of me getting my wisdom teeth out yesterday (10/10 do NOT recommend, by the way) so i’m sorry if this does not live up to your expectations LOL.

anyways i still resolve to finish this fanfic no matter what because i put so much effort into planning it out, but no idea when that’ll be. i’m not bothering to make promises of the next update because who knows if i’ll fulfill it, buttttt i ASSURE you i will finish this at some point.

and as always this is roughly edited because it’s 1am and i don’t have the energy to do that.

ps: i have no explanation as to why but this chapter is sponsored by kyoto by phoebe bridgers.

pps: everybody deserves a javy.

The night Javy’s mother met Jake, she pulled Javy aside while Jake was busy playing with dolls with his kid sister. “You better keep him close,” she had said with conviction. “That boy ain’t seen enough love in his life, it’s your job to show him it.”

And Javy knew, of course, that something was off with Jake’s upbringing. But to have the confirmation from his mother who made a career out of helping kids just like Jake made everything all too real. 

Javy made it his life mission that night to never let Jake go. No matter how tough the other man would make it. 

And boy did he make it tough. 

Following the most confusing encounter of Javy’s life, Jake didn’t return to base for three days. Word on base was that he had an emergency in the family. 

Only Javy knew that was practically impossible because Jake did everything he could to cut contact with his family. 

During the first day of Jake’s absence, Javy tried to make sense of where everything went wrong. All he could get was that Jake had a bad hop and then left. 

Until he overheard Rooster talking while grabbing a beer. “—a coward,” the man was saying. “Can dig out insults like it’s no tomorrow but the second I fight back he leaves? They’re really letting anyone in the Navy now.” 

Javy had never inserted himself into a conversation faster. “What the hell did you say to him?”

At least Rooster had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “I only said what everyone thinks when we fly with him.”

“That being?”

“That if he keeps flying the way he does, he’s going to lead us all towards an early grave.”

Javy tried to make sense of the newly added information. In a way, what Rooster had said about Jake’s reaction to the insult was extreme. But the reaction paired with emergency leave…

Something else must have happened. 

And only one thing could possibly rattle Jake Seresin enough to outwardly show weakness—his parents. One of them had to have gotten in contact with him. 

Before Javy could think about it, he was already whipping out his phone and dialing Jake’s number whilst walking to the door. 

Hey, it’s Jake. Im probably in the clouds right now so I’ll respond to this eventually. 

“Jake, whatever you’re doing right now, stop. Don’t do it. Don’t go back there. Call me and I’ll pick you up, wherever you are.” 

“Why the long face, Coyote?” Though Rooster’s tone was teasing, his face had grown serious upon the urgency of Javy’s movements. 

And above all, Javy hated that. Because he knew that Bradshaw didn’t even realize the effect of his words on Jake and never would have said it had he known. It would have been easier to hate him if he wasn’t a decent man. 

“Just-“ his voice failed him. Defeat tugged on his bones with another declined call. “Just stay out of it Bradshaw.”

“I don’t know why you stay friends with him, man. When he treats you just as he does everybody else.”

Anger, Javy learned, was a much easier emotion to focus on than worry. “Jake is a brother to me. If you let go of your rivalry for one goddamn second, maybe you’d realize that he’s a better man than you and I combined.” Before the man could even respond, Javy was already stalking away with his phone held to his ear. 

The next two days followed much the same. Bradshaw’s searching gaze, Javy trying to make contact any chance he could to no avail. 

On the night of day three of no contact, his phone rang in the dead of night. Javy scrambled to answer it. “Jake?”

“Hey.”

Never before had Javy felt such immense relief. Too many responses came to mind. 

Why the hell didn’t you answer my calls? 

Where did you go?

Why didn’t you come to me before disappearing?

Are you alright?

In the end he settled for the most mellow of the options. “Do you need a ride?” 

The relief of the other man was palpable in the way he let out a ragged breath. “Yeah.”

“Drop a pin, I’ll get there when I can.”

The pin led to the airport 30 minutes from base. Anxiety settled in his stomach but he did his best to keep calm. Jake would have mentioned any serious harm done to him. Reassured, Javy grabbed his keys and jogged out of base, passing Bradshaw in the lounge on the way out. 

Neither man acknowledged the other, though he felt eyes following him  

Being the middle of the night, the roads were empty. 30 minutes was shaved to 22 by his stretch of the rules of the road. Jake sat alone on a bench just outside the airport.

He didn’t have a bag next to him and didn’t seem to notice Javy’s car for several seconds. 

And when he did, it still took ten additional seconds for him to seemingly muster the courage to get up and limp towards his car. He practically collapsed in the passenger seat with an honest to god grimace on his face. 

It took Javy three tries to get words out of his mouth. “Do you-do you need the ER?”

“My mother died,” Jake whispered. Not an answer, but an admission. An explanation for the one person who deserved it. “The mister said I had to be a man and show up to the funeral.”

“And you went.” Not a question. 

Jake still answered, “And I went.” 

They sat in silence for several moments while Javy wearily started the car. 

“The ER will ask questions you know I can’t answer.”

Javy’s hands tightened on the wheel as he started driving towards base. The sun was just beginning to peak above the clouds and paint the sky purple and pink. “How bad is it?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

“Not quite the answer I was looking for, man.”

“If you don’t mind cleaning a few scrapes, I can be back in the air for tomorrow.”

“Jake—jesus,” Javy swore viciously. “I don’t care about flying right now. I care about you being okay.”

“You shouldn’t care about me.”

“What?”  

“My old man called me a death magnet. ‘Said I bring death ‘n destruction wherever I go. I think he’s right.”

And suddenly the puzzle pieces clicked into place. No longer was Jake’s reaction to Rooster’s words seemingly abrupt. His response was heightened by Jake’s piece-of-shit sperm donor. 

Javy wouldn’t classify himself as a violent man. Sure he’d been in his fair share of fights, most of them with Jake by his side. But he was never really one to instigate violence. If somebody started it, he’d finish it. He just never started it himself. 

But hearing the defeat in a man normally so sure of himself sparked a rage deep in Javy’s bones. He knew without a doubt that if Jake’s father was within a mile radius, Javy would find himself dishonorably discharged by morning. 

“Jake, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?” Eyes glossy, Jake turned from the window to look at Javy. There was blood crusted on his lower lips from biting them in anxiety. Javy wished he had a toothpick to give Jake. He’d just have to hope his words were enough. “You are not a death magnet. Your father is a piece of shit—too drunk or high or whatever to accept that his son has moved on to greater things while he withers away far too slowly for my liking. Hear me now: I’m not leaving you. Accept it or not, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

As if overcome with the exhaustion from whatever he’d lived through the last three days, Javy watched all arguments die from Jake’s face. He only sounded partially resigned when he said, “Okay.” 

Javy felt his shoulders sag in relief. Jake leant his face against the window and closed his eyes. 

Javy drove silently. 

——————-

The next morning, Jake was up with the sun. His movements were loud enough that Javy blearily opened his eyes from the opposite bunk and watched as Jake placed the Hangman mask on piece by piece. He practiced straightening his shoulders until he could do so without a wince, styling his hair as if his fingernails weren’t chewed to the beds and scabbed all over. 

By the time Javy decided to get out of bed, Jake looked as if nothing was wrong. The only sign of any foul play was the blossoming bruises on both cheeks and the numerous self-inflicted bite marks on his lips. A good thing, because Javy knew Jake would never forgive himself if he let some “silly” funeral lead to him losing the trophy. 

But it was discerning to think of the Jake he picked up four hours ago to the Jake in front of him as the same man. Two totally different people, neither one fully the truth. 

A thought suddenly occurred to Javy. “The locker rooms,” He said through a loud yawn. He attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s your plan for that?”

“It’ll be fine.” Which translated to: Jake was going to rely on the “Hangman” facade today. 

Javy sighed. There was no use in arguing. Finality was clear in Jake’s voice. So Javy nodded slowly, gave Jake one last assessing look, and carried about his day. 

By some higher power, they arrived at the locker rooms before everybody else. Jake was out of his day uniform and in his flight suit before Javy even took off his khakis. Javy thought he may have been imagining it, but the “Hangman” patch on Jake’s shoulder seemed to match the color of his right cheek. 

As Jake went towards the locker room to begin his pre-flight checks, Rooster walked in. Jake paused with slightly widened eyes. 

Javy watched with tense breath as the two men stopped and stared at each other, faces saying things he naively couldn’t compute. He privately thought to himself that the two of them couldn’t even understand the other’s thoughts, but there was no mistaking the slight change in the air. 

It was filled with promises. Of what, he wasn’t sure. 

But it was something. 

Not for the first time, Javy wished he had his mother’s knack for reading people. Sure he could get by with Jake, mostly out of familiarity rather than skill, but Gia Machado had built her career of getting through to children with strong outer walls. 

In the end, all that Rooster did was nod slowly in recognition of Jake’s return. His thoughts were protected by an emotionless mask which rivaled Jake’s. If Javy hadn’t seen the burning desire to understand Jake’s abrupt disappearance throughout the last few days, he’d have believed that Rooster didn’t have a care in the world. 

But he knew better. 

Even slower, Jake nodded back. And that was that. 

The others piled in the locker room slowly. It didn’t take long for one of them to notice the slightly ajar locker belonging to Jake and what that meant. 

“Uh oh,” The jovial voice of Whisky announced teasingly to Rooster, “Hangman’s back, better watch out!”

Rooster accepted their quips with a tense smile, no doubt thinking of the less-than-ideal state Jake was in just minutes earlier. “He better fly his best yet to catch up with me.”

So that was how he’s playing this: false bravado. 

How achingly familiar. 

Maybe Jake and Bradley really were meant for one another. 

As if Jake heard the taunt from the other side of base, he spent the day flying as if everything he owned was on succeeding during his hops. Gone was the man shaken by a reminder of his past. Jake “Hangman” Seresein, one of the most skilled pilots in the Naval Aviation program was back. 

And he was out for the trophy once more. 

Even Javy found himself unable to keep up with Jake, despite being wingmen. “Come on, man, work with me here,” he said in exasperation as Jake maneuvered his jet at Javy’s expense to get tone. 

“No can do, Coyote. There ain’t enough room on that plaque for two.”

Javy didn’t bother to take it to heart. He had long since accepted that he was never going to reach the level Jake possessed. Because to him, this job was a means to an end. He flew well and did his best to make it through the day. 

But Jake? Jake’s whole world was in the sky. Everything he possessed went into making sure he flew better than everybody else alongside him. The only way Jake would exit this world would be on his own terms, in the leather seat of an F-18. 

And that would only be after he accomplished everything he aspired to. 

By the end of the day, Jake had pissed everybody off at least once with his antics. Not even Javy could calm everybody down. The man himself, however, seemed perfectly content to be on the receiving end of several choice phrases. He gave just as good as he got without a care in the world.

Jake even appeared unconcerned at the harsh glares he received whilst pulling the wooden locker-room door open, most of which fell upon seeing the bruises on his face. Some of the kinder of their classmates visibly grimaced as Jake unzipped his flirty suit and revealed his similar looking chest. 

Rooster‘s eyes burned. 

“Jesus, Hangman. Who woke up on the wrong side of the bed with you?” A man by the callsign of “Nightshade” commented two rows down with a wince. 

Javy’s fists clenched hard. 

Jake’s face twisted in a humorless grin. “Well, Nightshade, not everybody finds this charm as wonderful as all of y’all. You should really see the other guy.”

Despite his words, Jake’s knuckles remained bare. Nowhere was there any detection of self-defense. But nobody would bother to look further. They took his word for truth and added it to their incorrect mental image of him. 

With no further questions or comments, Jake strolled towards the showers. Rooster went to follow him immediately, but Javy stepped in the way. “Not now, man.”

“You his keeper, Coyote? Gonna howl?”

Javy felt years beyond his age. “Bring the rivalry back tomorrow, not now. Please.”

After a long look, Rooster turned away with ramrod-straight shoulders. He stormed out of the locker room and charged out into the hallway without even changing out of his flight suit. Javy was too exhausted with their far-too-similar antics to care. 

The others gave him looks of confusion, but Javy carelessly waved them off. He took his place guarding the door, providing Jake the privacy Javy knew he needed. 

Because Javy may not be able to protect Jake 24/7, but he knew without a doubt that he’d be there right by Jake’s side to help pick up the pieces every time. 

Always.  

Notes:

next chap is back to jake’s pov and it contains the three missing days …

Chapter 7: missing days

Summary:

Jake’s childhood house was only a thirty-minute walk from an airport.

Notes:

*peeks out from behind hands* heyyyyyyyy!!! surprise!! fall semester took everything out of me and spring semester was somehow worse, so i honestly forgot about this fic entirely.

but i was going through my notebooks the other day and i came across my plans for this fic and i remembered that i had pretty much finished this chapter so i may as actually finish it and post it :)

i know the tgm fandom is pretty much dust at this point but i refuse to leave this unfinished when i literally planned it all out so well. i’ve read this through like three times so if there are any errors im sorry please forgive me.

and without further ado, for better or for worse ,,, here it is !!

this is sponsored by ‘not strong enough’ by boygenius because always an angel, never a god is so jake seresin and bradley bradshaw coded i feel lightheaded at the thought of it.

Jake’s childhood house was only a thirty-minute walk from an airport. He had known that since he was seven and tried to escape punishment. (It failed, his father dragged him back. He never tried again). 

He always found it ironic that freedom was so close and yet so far. 

The walk through the town of his adolescence brought up memories Jake didn’t realize his brain still held. Some of the trees he hid under during storms had been cut down in the decade since he’d last strolled the cracked sidewalks. 

The sign on Jerry’s restaurant had been modernized. Gone was the faded burgundy and tan. It had been painted over in an electric blue that practically glared at him from the opposite sidewalk. 

The yellow house on the corner of his street was no longer yellow. 

So many changes. 

Had he changed? 

Many of his colleagues would argue that “Nah, Hangman? He’s always been that way.”

But he had been Jake once, hadn’t he? Sometime before he ever left the town and became someone new he had just been a boy. An unloved boy with a heart of gold born too late to have a real chance at a family. 

And then, long after his heart had frozen over, he had a choice of who he wanted to be within the Navy. He could have stayed next to Javy’s aircraft, watching the instructor leave them in the skies. Or he could have dropped down, left Javy on his own, and got a lock. To him, it was an easy choice. He trusted Javy’s skills and knew he’d be fine. The praise he earned validated that. 

It wasn’t his fault his squadmates took that as a declaration of solitariness. 

“Man, are you just gonna leave us all hanging like that?”

“Ha, Hangman.”

And thus, from the ashes and ruin of an unfortunate adolescence, Hangman was born. 

Hangman: the aviator who would never give a shit about anybody. The guy that would leave you in his rearview mirror without a second thought if it meant he’d be on top at the end of the day. 

If that’s what they needed to think to try and fly faster, try and keep up: Jake “Hangman” decided 4 years ago that’s what he would give them. 

It was actually pretty easy to act the part. He had plenty of practice acting differently than he felt after years of hiding bruises and welts and scrapes. Plastering a smirk on his face was light work in comparison. 

He wasn’t ever any good at the friendship thing, anyway. It was probably for the best. 

Sometimes it got lonely, always being on the receiving end of dirty looks and sharp remarks. But he had Javy. And try as he might, Javy wasn’t leaving his side. It wasn’t all that bad, then. 

So Hangman rose through the ranks, earned his praise, and Javy was always just a step or two behind him. Jake hoped with everything in him that Javy would still be there waiting if he made it out of this job alive. 

And yet, as Jake stood outside of his childhood home–no, house. It would never be home–he felt a decade younger. If he tried hard enough, he could hear the ghostly sound of a bottle smashing two feet above his head and slicing his still-chubby cheeks open.

The fourteen steps it took to the wooden door felt like walking into battle without a weapon. 

For the bandages, he told himself. For the woman who had sparse moments of kindness. 

The door swung open before he could even raise his fist to knock. 

“I’ll be damned,” the man on the other side said in a familiar raspy voice. “You had the guts to show up. Color me surprised.”

Jake swallowed and steeled himself, staring just to the right of his nightmare in physical form. “Sir.”

“What’d I say about that sir crap? This ain’t the military, boy. You’d do good to remember that.” Jake’s father wobbled as he brought a bottle to his lips. His exhale resembled a wheeze more than breath. “The fuck you doing just standing there?”

Wordlessly, Jake took a step inside. Everything was the same as when he’d left. From the crack in the kitchen counter down to the discolored carpet, everything resided in its place. Three cases of beer still resided next to the couch. He almost wished things had changed. If they had, it would be ten times easier for Jake to stay in the present. 

The old wooden door closed with finality. It took everything in him not to flinch at the lock clicking into place. 

Unbeknownst to him, Jake’s phone relentlessly vibrated in his duffle bag. 

“Your room ain’t the same. When I realized you’d left for good, we trashed it to hell.” The old man cackled and coughed. Jake pointedly ignored the sickening sound to the cough. “Shit, we must’ve spent 6 hours in there.”

“I’ll go to the motel,” Jake replied tonelessly, feeling a bit of hope nestle between the ghostly ache in his ribs. 

“Nonsense. Sit on the couch, and share a beer with your old man.” 

Jake thought he’d rather do just about anything else. 

And yet he sat. 

Silence filled only by his father’s gasping breaths left Jake’s thought’s reeling. He felt the absurd urge to break down in hysterical laughter thinking of himself sitting on a couch next to his abuser, killing time waiting for the funeral of his other abuser. 

It was both a fantasy and nightmare. 

Jake Seresin Sr. uncapped the beer with his teeth and handed it to Jake with a vicious grin. For a second, Jake could only stare at his father. 

The years had not been kind to him. Wrinkles had formed deep crevices in all areas of his skin. And not the type that indicated a happy life with many smiles. Rather, ones that displayed unhealthy habits. His frame had become wiry with malnutrition. 

He looked every bit like the life he chose to live in. 

With a start, Jake realized that traumatizing past aside, he would win in a fight against his father. While Jake Sr had aged unkindly, the academy had whipped Jake Jr into shape. 

Jake wished he could feel satisfaction at the fact. At the realization that, finally, he had won out in the end. He had risen from the low point of his upbringing. But he found he couldn’t. Because although he knew he had finally grown into his long frame, he knew all it would take was one fast movement from the man beside him before he’d become paralyzed with fear. His triumph wouldn’t last more than one jab to the stomach. 

“You know,” the elder man began. “Out of all of you, I wouldn’t have expected you to be the one to survive.” 

Jake closed his eyes. 

The memories of his brothers had long since faded. Little glimpses here and there of shared smiles and booming laughter. Jake never grieved for them because he barely had any memories to grieve for. 

If anything, he grieved the most for the lack of memories as opposed to the already existing ones. Some part of his subconscious longed to one day reconnect with those who shared his DNA. To have that pipe dream ripped away from him before it could truly take shape left him perpetually missing something crucial. It felt like chasing after ghosts. 

“Justin and Julian are still out there,” Jake eventually responded. Justin was the second oldest, off to the marines like their father by the time Jake was six. Julian enlisted in the army not long after. 

Jake never bothered keeping track of their whereabouts, but he knew his father would have contacted him if they’d burned in. 

“I’m sure they’ll join the others soon.”

“What, and I won’t?” 

The older man chuckled. “No,” he replied into his bottle. “You won’t. You know why? Because you and I, we’re one and the same. We’re meant to shoot to kill and watch everybody around us leave for good.”

Jake shook his head feverently. “I’m nothing like you.” 

He wasn’t. Because Jake cared. Even if the emotion was somewhat foreign, he’d been around Javy enough to know that he at the very least felt it. He had dreams; ambitions. He condemned violence. His words could cut like knives, but he’d rather stab himself than lay a hand on somebody for any reason besides defense. Deep in Jake’s bones, he knew he would never lay a hand on his children one day if he ever had any. He would end the cycle of abuse integrated in his family tree.  

And yet, as he stared towards the cracked mirror—from being shoved into it years ago, he remembered—Jake realized with a start that he and his father were sitting the same way. Feet slightly apart, heads tilted to the side. Even their goddamn bottles were held loosely in their hands in the exact same way. Dread filled his blood like lead. 

Some realization must have shown on his face because from beside him, his father cackled. “You realize it, don’t you? You may have left, but you can never escape who you are.” Bony fingers jabbed two inches to the right of his heart. “We share the same instincts, you and me. Always have, always will.”

Not for the first time since reentering his worst nightmare, Jake longed to have Javy beside him. Javy would knock some sense into him about the bullshit being spat at him. He’d set the record straight with no care for consequence. And Jake would be thankful for it. 

But the fact of the matter was that Jake was alone. He was tired, he was weak. So he let the words settle within him like seeds in a flowerpot. And in sync with the man next to him, he took a long drink from his beer. 

And then another. 

And another. 

———

The next morning, Jake sluggishly pulled on one of his newer suits. He decided against wearing his blues, choosing to blend in the background for the day. 

He walked out into the kitchen and was surprised to see his father lucid at the wooden counter. After the amount of beers he’d consumed a mere six hours ago, Jake assumed that getting to the funeral on time would be a struggle. But the man looked every bit the military man the town assumed he still was. Not a single follicle of hair was out of place and his suit was barren of wrinkles. 

There was no controlling the glossiness of his eyes or the sunken texture of his cheeks, but it could be played off as grief or his old age. 

Jake’s father nodded in greeting above a suspicious-smelling coffee mug. A glance at the clock read 0815 hours. 

“Time to face the music, eh?” His father finished his beverage in a single gulp and unsteadily stood up. 

Without responding, Jake walked towards the car that had seen better days. They drove to the funeral home in silence. There, his father gripped him by the shoulder and reintroduced him to people with a wide smile as if his dead wife wasn’t ten feet away in a wooden box. 

Countless people thanked him avidly for his service while others simply offered their condolences. 

Throughout the mass, Jake found his mind wandering to what he’d be doing if he was back on base. 11AM meant wheels up. Somewhere, Rooster and Coyote were probably doing a dogfight. Maybe other members of the squad were glad to not have him in the way anymore. 

Jake only felt a pressure in his throat when it came time to lower his mother’s casket in the ground. Around him, people’s faces who were no longer recognizable were downturned in sadness. Even his father had pinched features. Twin graves containing his brothers were on either side of her resting place. The area was clouded with death. 

One day, Jake would probably join them. He’d be left perpetually in the vicinity of his abusers and their counterparts. Maybe, if he was lucky, someone seeing their relative would stare at his name and feel sympathy. Maybe they’d place a lone flower on his cracked tomb and pray to their god that he made it to the afterlife okay. 

But then they’d go about their days, the memory of the sad looking gravestone fading as they moved on. And he’d stay there, pollen collecting and covering his name until no evidence of his existence remained. 

Jake Seresin Jr, frozen in time forever. 

The rest of the funeral dragged on slowly. The Texan heat made sweat fall on his forehead and neck until he was half-tempted to unbutton the first few buttons of his suit. Just as he began to, his father finally staggered away from the freshly dug grave and towards the car. The man didn't even bother to gesture for Jake to follow, inherently knowing that Jake would (he was right).  

The car reeked of cigarettes. Likely the fault of the woman residing in a casket 20 meters away who was always partial to a carton of Malburos. Thinking of her, Jake allowed himself a fraction of a moment to grieve. He allowed himself a moment to grieve for the woman who had probably been wonderful once. The woman who at one point had been young and bright and happy. He grieved for the woman who could have had a better chance at things if she hadn’t picked the wrong man to love. 

Then the father of a flask being tipped backwards from the passenger seat brings him back to reality, and he wordlessly turned the key in the ignition. 

The ride home was silent. A helpless feeling of unease made its way up his spine when he saw his half-drunken father stare thoughtfully out the window. Jake Seresin Sr. was only ever thoughtful about one thing, how to inflict the most damage on his son. 

So it shouldn’t have been  surprising, then, when his father took all of three seconds to tackle Jake to the ground as soon as they walked in their house. But it did surprise Jake, his breath getting caught in his throat. Enough so that his father was able to get several hits in, each more forceful than the last. 

“Stupid…goddamn…fuckup…should’ve…killed…you…when…I…had…the…chance”. Each word was spoken with a hit, and Jake felt fire all throughout his face by the end of the speech. 

It was then that he wished he could find the strength in himself to fight back. But he felt simultaneously 12 and 24 at the same time, caught somewhere in the middle. His bones had filled with lead somewhere between the flight from Top Gun to here while his stomach braced for the inevitable kicks or punches. He didn’t give his father the satisfaction of knowing he was in pain  

Instead, he thought of how much he’d rather be on base then. Up in the skies, Javy right behind him. Hell, maybe Bradshaw would feel like cranking up the speed if he was there right now, finally offering Jake a true challenge. The clouds would be whizzing by and Javy would be shouting the locations of other aircrafts over their radio, and Jake would feel euphoric getting tone while his classmates failed to do so.  

In reality, all that whizzed by were his father’s heavy fists and the familiar bite of his class ring. Back in the day, Jake could have sworn the thing was perpetually tattooed between his ribs with how often the two met. Now they met again like old friends. 

Accepting his fate, Jake allowed himself to go limp on the faded wooden floors. Some part of himself sickeningly welcomed it. The pain everywhere sucked, but it was like making up for lost times. Six years worth of blows delivered in one sitting. This was the penance for his sins. 

Abruptly, Jake’s father grabbed his shoulders and lifted his upper half from the floor. Then he stilled. Jake opened his tired, bruised eyes to see the man who once resembled him uncannily staring back at him with an unknown emotion. “The fuck you doing just laying there? You that much of a pussy that you can’t bother to defend yourself? You used to. Or try, at least.”

“I used to be stupid.” Jake slurred tiredly. 

Without the constant onslaught of blows, he began feeling the pain really set in. The feeling was unpleasant, but not unfamiliar. He mentally began cataloging the worst of the injuries and was relieved to find that none of them would keep him from the sky whenever he made his way back to base. 

Jake’s father dropped his shoulders and stood up. Delivering one swift kick to the ribs, the man stumbled away. “Get the fuck out of my house before I pull my rifle on you.” 

The words took a moment to set in, his tired and probably concussed brain struggling to comprehend the words. Then he felt the bizarre urge to laugh. The one time Jake had the strength to defend himself, he didn’t. And his father chose that time, out of all times, to walk away. 

The sound of bottles clinking brought him out is his thoughts. Jake began the tedious process of picking himself up from the floor and learning to walk amid the pain from the upper half of his body.

Without a word to his old man, Jake headed to the old wooden door and grabbed his duffel bag. He just put his hand on the handle when the raspy voice of his father had him looking back. 

“I lied before. You’re gonna end up like all your brothers if you keep doing what you’re doing. That, or just like me.” 

Jake pointedly ignored the second half of the statement for the sake of remaining sane. “And I’m sure that’d be the best day of your life, dad.” 

His father only hummed in response, turning back to his vice of the night-bud light.  

When nothing else was said, Jake stepped out into the searing Texan sun and started the trek towards the airport. 

Once there, he grasped any energy possible to smile at the frightened-looking lady behind the front desk who  unashamedly stared at the bruising he knew covered his face. Privately, he was pretty sure he was more purple and blue than tan skin by that point in time. Still wearing his now rumpled suit with his hair askew, Jake did them both a favor and ignored her impolite staring. “Maam, I’ll take the first flight you have to Miramar, or somewhere nearby.”

He visibly watched the girl snap herself out of her trance, regaining her professionalism. “That’s not until 7:15, sir. Is that alright?” 

The clock just above her head read 1pm. 

“Fine by me,” he said, handing her his card. “May I ask if you’ll still be on shift then?”

The poor girl looked confused, but she nodded hesitantly. “I’m here until 9.” 

“Fantastic. Well I’m going to collapse in that chair over there.” Jake pointed to a mediocre-looking chair 20 meters from the desk. “And there’s a good chance I will pas—fall asleep. Would you mind waking me up if that’s the case?” 

Again, the girl nodded with a wince on her face. “I can do that. But do you need medical attention? Because I can—“

“No, no need. I just need rest. Thank you though.” And then, with a close lipped smile, Jake staggered to the chair and promptly passed out.

Notes:

next chapter goes back to top gun (take one) rivalry ,,, but sereshaw (also take one) edition

Chapter 8: shifting grounds

Summary:

The thing about being the best of the best was that something was bound to go wrong. Nothing could ever be perfect for long.

Notes:

is that...no...that couldn't possibly be an update to the 2022 top gun maverick fic in december of 2024, could it?

and yet it is. (i imagine the crowd going wild right now)

hello everyone!

life has been...insane to say the least. i won't bore you with the details. but i vowed to finish this and so it will be! ...eventually...

to make up for the [REDACTED] month-long hiatus, i give to you this beauty of a chapter. i'd like to think that you lovely readers will be happy with how it ends *winks*. i even edited it for once so it is (hopefully) perfect for you! i figured yall deserved at least that much LOL.

and just in time for the holidays! i hope everybody has a lovely holiday (for whatever you celebrate). consider this chapter my gift to all of you <3

oh - and, as always, i listened to one song on a loop while writing this. this chapter's song was fable by gigi perez because i definitely think she read this unfinished fanfic for a niche fandom and was so inspired she wrote that banger of a song.

thank u all for your lovely messages and comments. enjoy :)

The thing about being the best of the best was that something was bound to go wrong. Nothing could ever be perfect for long.

Top Gun was no exception.

The bruises had taken all of two weeks to heal. The physical pain, dull as it was, had been the least of Jake’s problems. The questions from his peers had left their mark much deeper than the bruises on his chest. Bradley Bradshaw’s eyes followed him everywhere he went, though, and that was something Jake hadn’t anticipated.

The rest of the class had long since given up trying to figure out who had managed to beat the ever-loving shit out of Hangman. They’d probably written it off as some hookup gone horribly wrong. What did they know? They weren’t in the fight. They didn’t get it.

Bradshaw, though—Bradshaw wasn’t letting it go.

It had been three weeks since the funeral, the memorial service that had forced Jake to confront a past he’d done everything in his power to bury. That day had haunted him in ways he hadn’t expected, but it was over now. The problem? It wasn’t over for Bradley.

The man who had always been a bit too straightforward, a little too honest, had been watching Jake. And Jake could feel it. It made the air between them crackle like static, like a storm was brewing.

One afternoon, after a grueling training session, Jake had just finished stowing his gear when he felt the familiar pressure of someone’s hand on his chest. He looked up to find Bradley standing there, a serious look on his face, eyes darkened by concern.

Jake shifted, eyes flicking from Bradshaw’s face down to the hand. His voice came out dry, mocking, though the slight curl of his lips betrayed the tension in his chest. “Can I help you?”

Bradley’s hand didn’t move, but his gaze didn’t waver either. “You sure you’re good enough to fly this one?”

Jake froze, then blinked, throwing his head back with a scoff. “Awe, you worried about me, Bradshaw?” His grin spread wider. “I’m touched, really.”

Bradley’s eyes hardened instantly, the concern evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. “More like worried for our superior officers if their gambling habits can’t continue if you burn in.”

Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well, don’t you worry about them, Bradshaw.” He made a show of unzipping his flight suit and lifting his shirt just enough to reveal his mostly bruise-free abdomen. He could almost hear the other man’s breath catch, the way Bradley’s gaze flicked away from him, then back, his mouth tightening as if he was forcing himself not to react.

“See, goods are perfectly fine,” Jake added, his tone teasing, enjoying the way he could make Bradley squirm.

Bradley cleared his throat, still not meeting his gaze, and muttered, “I see that.” His voice was gruff, clipped. Without another word, he turned and stalked toward his own locker, clearly ending the conversation.

Two weeks later, the tension between them had reached new heights. It wasn’t just the lingering glances or the way they bickered over everything—it was something else. Something sharper, more electric. Everyone else had written it off as typical Top Gun rivalry, but Jake could feel it. The charge. It was building, fast.

And worst of all, he liked it. 

He was standing on the tarmac one morning, arms crossed, leaning against his jet, watching as Bradley prepped for their next hop. His eyes followed every movement the other man made—watched how his fingers worked, fast and confident, as he ran through the pre-flight checklist. The sun reflected off of Bradley’s aviators, blinding Jake for a split second. And for that brief moment, Jake forced himself to feel the way his stomach flipped at the sight of the other man before pushing it down. 

Bradley glanced over at him, catching Jake’s stare, a smirk playing on his lips. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You ready to lose this one, Bradshaw?” Jake called out, his voice dripping with confidence as he straightened, pushing off the jet. His grin was cocky, but underneath, his heart was racing. There was something about the man in front of him that made everything feel more intense.

Bradley didn’t even look up from his checklist. “You’re all talk, Seresin. Try and keep up.”

Jake forced his jaw not to tighten. “Oh, I’ll keep up,” he shot back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He saw the faint twitch of Bradley’s own lips, the briefest smile. It was moments like this—when they danced around each other, teasing, challenging—that Jake felt like he was walking a razor’s edge. 

The hop started out like any other. The mission was simple enough—simulated dogfights, teamwork evaluations, and a few high-G maneuvers to push their limits. Jake had been paired with Bradshaw for the exercise, much to his annoyance (and secret satisfaction). They worked well together, even if neither of them would admit it. Jake’s instincts complemented Rooster’s precision, and they’d racked up more simulated kills than any other pair in the class.

But halfway through the climb to altitude, something felt off. Jake’s instincts, honed over years of flying, flared with warning. His gut twisted, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“Rooster, you good?” Jake asked over the comms, trying to keep his tone light, though something in his gut told him it wasn’t.

“Peachy, ” came the reply.

But the pressure on Jake’s chest didn’t lesson. He felt like he was 15 coming home late from a shift, his father undoubtedly waiting for him with a beer and his belt. Something was waiting for them in these skies. 

And then, it happened.

The bird strike was sudden, the loud thud echoing across the comms. Jake’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Bradley’s jet shudder violently, the engine sputtering. His mind flashed back to a thousand training scenarios, but none of them could’ve prepared him for this moment.

“Bird strike! Engine failure!” Rooster’s voice came through, tight with urgency and panic.

Jake’s pulse raced, and finally, his training kicked into gear. “Both of your engines are on fire. Rooster, eject!” His hands gripped the controls, eyes darting to the sky, keeping his own jet steady as he kept an eye on Rooster’s aircraft, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Not yet,” Bradley grit out, fighting to regain control of the plane.

“Bradshaw, don’t be a hero. Eject now!” Jake’s voice cracked with desperation, the calm facade slipping for the first time in a long while.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the canopy blew, and Bradley was ejected. Jake’s relief was sharp and quick, but it was overshadowed by the sight of Rooster’s parachute descending too quickly toward the rocky terrain below.

The hours that followed were a blur—Jake had barely taken time to debrief before he was heading to the hospital. His mind replayed the crash over and over again as he paced the sterile, sterile waiting room, the walls closing in on him with each step.

It felt like an eternity, and the seconds dragged by, each one making the world feel smaller, colder. He could barely keep his thoughts from spiraling. Was Rooster okay? Was he going to be okay? Was he alive?

Finally, after eighteen hours, a nurse came to find him, telling him that Bradley had regained consciousness. His heart nearly stopped. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked into that room, but he knew the last thing he was prepared for was the feeling that swept over him the moment he stepped inside.

Bradley’s eyes were already on him, tired but clear. There was something in his gaze—something unreadable. His voice was hoarse but laced with a challenge.

“What, here to gloat that you’re going to win now?” Rooster’s tone was dry, but Jake could hear the faintest hint of humor in it. It was a mask, though. Jake could see it—how his eyes were still shadowed, how his body was clearly still in pain, the way he winced slightly as he shifted on the bed.

Jake froze, his breath catching in his chest. He stepped closer, the edges of his bravado slipping. “That really what you think of me?”

Bradley’s brow furrowed as if weighing Jake’s words. “Any evidence that indicates otherwise?”

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Forget it. This was a mistake.”

Bradley’s voice softened, a strange vulnerability seeping through the cracks of his usual tough exterior. “Hey, hey. Sorry. Nightshade said you’ve been here the whole time. That true?”

Jake’s jaw worked for a moment, thoughts tangling together. Finally, he nodded, the words getting stuck in his throat. “Needed to make sure my best competition was going to be alright.”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. “Don’t bullshit me, man. Not with this. Why did you stay?”

Jake looked away, uncomfortable with the weight of his own feelings. But in the end, he couldn’t lie to Bradley—not like this. He met his gaze again, his voice quieter this time, more sincere. “I think you know why.”

The room was still. Bradley stared at him, and for a moment, it was like time had stopped. Something flickered in his eyes, something Jake couldn’t quite name, but it was enough to make his heart beat a little faster.

Bradley finally broke the silence, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Okay.”

Jake blinked, his heart hammering. “Okay?”

Bradley’s smile was faint but real. “Well, I’d kiss you, but my ribs—”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat before his body moved of its own accord. Without thinking, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Bradley’s lips. It was soft, tentative—a moment of vulnerability neither of them had expected. It wasn’t just about the kiss, though. It was about everything that had been left unsaid between them.

When he pulled away, Bradley’s eyes were brighter than before, his lips quirking up in a small smile. Jake returned the grin, his chest light for the first time in hours. He sat in the chair beside Bradley’s bed, content just to be there.

And for the first time since the crash, the world didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Notes:

HAPPY ENDING TO A CHAPTER?????? never say i don't give y'all anything!

next chapter is titled "close enough" ... so unfortunately, i think we all know where it's going.

xoxo, tired college student