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With each step Pete took, his heart sank deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It had only been a few short months since Tom had passed and Pete was having a harder time with accepting it than most. Maybe even harder than Sarah.
He pondered her feelings as he hopped the wooden fence near the back of their home and snuck to the window just outside of his former wingman's office.
Pete cautiously slid the window up and slipped inside with a shocking amount of ease. Luckily, Sarah and the kids were out of town at their new home. They'd been in the middle of moving everything from their old home for about a month and by the looks of Tom's office, they still had yet to touch a single thing. In fact, everything looked almost untouched since Pete had been there last.
He stumbled back as a sick feeling bubbled up in his stomach.
It was like Tom was off on a flight or out grocery shopping and he'd return later.
Pete wanted to believe that was true as his eyes became fixed on the wire-rimmed reading glasses that laid on top of Tom's laptop, unfolded as if their presence there was merely temporary.
Any moment, Tom would walk through the threshold of his office and place them on the bridge of his nose before sifting through papers, or studying the new Tomcat model on his computer. He'd send Pete a text to come by and they'd spend the afternoon together.
It first started as frustration for one another's arrogance and soon spiraled into secret kisses and hidden dates.
They both thought it would last forever... until Tom made the decision to cut it short.
Having to hide from everyone along with the painful thought of hurting Sarah was too much weight to bear.
Of course they stayed in touch. Stayed close. But Tom became what he used to be. Ice.
Pete swallowed his tears as he noticed an opened shoe box underneath the desk. He kneeled down between the desk and chair as he wiggled the box close enough to grab with both of his hands.
As he sat down in the chair and placed the box down, he noticed loads of what appeared to he handwritten letters spilling from the edges. One of them looked like it was just previously read not the long ago.
Pete plucked the letter up from the box and straighten the page out enough to read.
As his eyes carefully scanned the words, the tears he thought he'd successfully evaded earlier began spilling like a fountain from his eyes.
To my love, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.
I'm writing this in the hopes that I will finally have the guts to give it to you before it's too late. The truth is that I am very sick. Probably too sick to be around for very much longer. There are several things that I need you to know directly from me.
I never stopped loving you Maverick. I've loved you every day, every hour, every minute since I first laid eyes on you. I've regretted my decision to leave you every moment from the day I left you, but my own pride and stubbornness has prevented me from telling you up to now.
Here it is. My heart ripped open and laid bare for you. I'm terrified that I wont have much longer. That we wont have much longer. All the doctors say I'm pretty bad off and it feels like everyone around me is already preparing for what seems like the inevitable. Everyone accept for you.
You've managed to make me feel the most alive and human I have ever felt even now. I can no longer resist your wild charms and your unconventional love.
I will try my best to fight through this ever growing death that has it's sharp nails gripping me like a hot vice. If I can will you come back to me? Do I even deserve something like that? To have to back in my arms? To have your softness underneath me again?
My body feels so weak, but my heart remains strong for you to the very last beat. Tomorrow I will have this letter finally delivered to you. If only you could wait for me. Allow me the privilege to gaze into your beautiful, dangerous eyes again.
My world looks so bleak right now, but your colors always make it that much more vibrant for me. I'm so sorry for the pain I must have been putting you through this whole time. I am now paying for that pain with my own ten fold.
Once you receive this letter, if you've decided to forgive me, please meet me at our secret spot near the ocean. You know the one.
Forever your wingman and lover in this life and the next, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky.
Pete gripped the letter tightly between both of his fists as a sob tore through his body.
The letter that never came.
The box was full of letters that never came. Each one dedicated to him from Tom. Each one full of love and regret. Each one kept hidden.
Hidden from Sarah. Hidden from Pete.
The pain was too much for Pete to bear as he collapsed to the floor, allowing his tears to soak the very last words he'd ever receive from the only person he ever truly loved.
It was too late. It was all too late.