SUPERNOVA | ❝Don't think, just do.❞
When TOPGUN calls, the pilots flock, with no clue of the trials they are about to face. It brings old friends together, everyone from former TOPGUN classmates to childhood friends - they come and go into each...
┌───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┐ ELEVEN you are your only limit └───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┘
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CELESTE enters the all-too-familiar hospital waiting room to find her parents, teetering between wrought concern and exhaustion. She has seen this look on them before. Whether it was any time Quincy broke a limb, or that surgery she had to remove her tonsils when she was in Middle School. And yet... this look is far worse than she has seen before. Multiplied to numbers that shatter the roof. They all know this is serious, and what it means for Quincy; it just doesn't feel real.
Manny and Wendy instantly rise to their feet. In the couple of days since the incident, the Sterlings have been trying their best to alternate visits to see him. For Celeste, she tries to squeeze it in before or after training, regardless of how tired she is. Noting the weary looks on their faces, she holds her breath. "How is he?" she asks.
"Oh, getting better," says Wendy optimistically. "The doctor says he can come home tomorrow. Yeah, he's kind of talking like he usually does. He just won't..."
"Really talk?"
Her mother swallows thickly, nodding. That figures. After being fed the cold, hard facts of his condition, Quincy has not uttered a single word or feeling about how he's processing all of this. While Celeste knows a thing or two about obstacles being placed in front of your dreams... this is a whole other ball-game. Once her parents leave, she takes her cue to go into his room and keep him company.
The sight of him gets a little bit better every day. Quincy is sat up in bed, pillow propped up behind his back as he chomps down a large chocolate chip cookie, leaving sprinklings of crumbs on his lap. It's certainly better than the sight she saw when they first landed after ejecting — his face sagging slightly, unable to speak, while also crying out in pain over the leg he landed awfully on from his parachute. But there is still something missing. That spark.
Why did it have to be him? Quincy was the one who had always been so sure of what he wanted, and succeeded in getting it almost effortlessly. And now the rug has just been ripped out from beneath his feet. One phantom health condition no one knew about, and just like that: no more flying.
He looks up at her and sighs a little bit. "Hey, stranger," he scoffs through a mouthful of cookie. They both know it's ironic. These last few days, his room has been flooded with visitors, not least of all from Celeste.
"I see your sense of humour is back," she says.
"Barely. But my appetite is. Who knew hospital cookies were this good?"
