Mr. Sanchez sits at his desk, a disapproving glare pointed directly at Trevor as he shuffles papers around.

"Trevor. This is the fourteenth time you've gotten into a fight with someone. This month. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Trevor, he snickers for a second, props his feet onto his principal's desk, and just laughs. What can he say? It's not like he truly cares at this point. Hey, it wasn't his fault that fucking Johnny Klebitz decided that it was a great idea to accuse Trevor of stealing 'his girl', Ashley.

Suddenly, the familiar shrieking of the dismissal bell goes off, and the growing lumbering of feet tear through the hallway.

"Well, Mr. Sanchez, it was very nice talking with you. But ah- it seems that I am no longer under your regime, and since it is the last day of school, I'll leave with two words. Fuck you." He spat, getting to his feet and out the door before the principal could do anything.

Trevor merrily slung his backpack around his shoulders as he waded through the horde of school-aged children, their mothers swaddling them up in as many jackets as they could with-stand even though it was only 70 degrees outside.

Once everyone vacated the building, they all made sure to steer clear of the already 5"11' lanky bundle of rage that is Trevor Philips. He didn't mind though, he never does. The sun has broken through the gloomy mid-day clouds and is illuminating a small path in front of T. As he walks towards it, trees and shrubs get caught on his ankles, but barely slow him down.

Today, he is going to meet someone, someone special.

After swatting his way through the woods, he comes across a small clearing, obviously kept hidden and out of site. Trevor lays his backpack softly onto the tall grass, and practically falls, face first, into the ground. He rolls over to face the sky, grass gently brushing his face, birds humming their songs all around him. Wind rustles overhead, slinging loose leaves into the heavens as Trevor breathes calmly. This, right here, is something that never gets old.

Soft footsteps are heard padding through the grass, and when Trevor looks up, all he sees is a faint smile blocking the sun, the other boy's face a mere inches away from his.

"Hiya, T." is all Michael says before he crumbles to the ground right next to Trevor.

"Hiya, M." Trevor teases back, shifting onto his side and nestling his face into the crook of Michael's arm, breathing in his scent deeply.

They could fall asleep like this, legs and arms wrapped in each other, the sun keeping them warm, the grass almost becoming something as comfortable as a pillow. Trevor balls M's lettermen jacket up in his hands, Michael's fingers kneading his head and quietly straining through his hair. The two boys are curled up in each other so evenly, their bodies seemingly inseparable. Everything is cool and calm and quiet when Michael whispers something inaudible.

Trevor's ears perk up slightly and he opens an eye. "What did you say?"

Michael sighs and rolls onto his back. He takes his fingers out of Trevor's hair and places it into his jacket pocket.

"T. I'm moving."

The summer sun becomes shade, the wind cold and desolate, and everything Trevor worked so hard to have dissolves in a second of time.

2 years later-

"Ron, fucking go. You're good." Trevor whispers to his friend, watching him run up to a woman and 'fall' in front of her.

As Ron squirms exaggeratedly on the mall's marble ground in mock pain, Trevor running over to him and expertly swiping a wallet out the pocket of the heavy coat the woman is wearing, passing it off as a simple 'pardon me and my friend here' brush of the arms.

Trevor manhandles Ron back up onto his legs and nods his apology to the woman before making their way to Wade in the back corner of the mall.

"So…," Wade questions," was it good? I didn't see nobody 'round here notice nothing."

Trevor shoves Ron back in place next to Wade, jerking open the leather wallet with a crooked finger and fishing around inside. He looks past the random cards scattered in it and eventually tugs a few bills out of the main pocket.

Ron and Wade step forward, and at the same time Trevor takes a step back, shaking his head and thumbing the money in his hand.

"Here, accept my generosity and leave me the fuck alone." T mutters, pressing $5 into the waiting hands of his two friends, before silently pocketing a $20 before turning on his heel.

Walking away from his co-conspirators, he can still faintly hear Ron's frantic "thank you's" climb above the midday crowd. Trevor shoves his grimy hands into the front of his jeans and walks along the side of the mall's long central hallway, pausing only to inspect the cluttered store front windows.

Eventually, Trevor finds himself in the mall's cafeteria, lined up for fast food along with nearly half of the mall's patrons. In a few minutes, he has his food, and scans the place for an empty table. He plops down at one farthest away from anyone else and rips open his greasy bag, spilling half of its contents out onto the table as T shovels food into his mouth. T's slobbering and eating like he hasn't in weeks, because, well, he hasn't.

It's been the first time this week that he's had a hot meal, even if it is just cheap food. Trevor relishes in the heaviness he starts to feel, even welcomes it. At this point there has to be a stray mom or child that is looking in his direction but in all honesty he couldn't bring himself to care.

Trevor hates to slow down, but he does, quietly eyeing the people that pass him by. A lady with pink hair strolls by, a dad failing to control his two rowdy kids lumbers past, and-.

There's a teenager. Trevor squints at the person, in utter confusion. Dark, slicked back hair. Blue eyes. Stocky build, short, but powerful.

There's a smirk on his face that floods Trevor with familiarity, his eyes widening at the recognition, and as his blood runs cold he can't help himself but try to blink the tears out of his eyes. It's him. By God, it can't be him.

When Trevor opens his eyes, there's nothing but an empty area where he was.

Trevor, he, he can't fucking breathe. He stands up and literally runs out of there, his feast forgotten. His heart is threatening to rip open his chest and if he could bring himself to care he must've noticed just how hard he was knocking into people, but all he can think and see and hear is just static. There's angry red flooding into his eyes, and he can barely control his body anymore.

Trevor somehow manages to find an exit, and his lungs burn at the chill of the winter air, but at least it takes some of the edge off and the red in his eyes. He nearly collapses, stumbling around the open parking lot, ignoring the glares of worried parents as he makes his way towards the road. He doesn't even bother to go back for Wade and Ron; he would've killed them if they came after him.

When Trevor finally reaches his trailer, it's a long time after sundown, and the smell of stale alcohol lingers on his lips as he collapses into his bed, the liquor thankfully numbing him down but his mind still kept betraying him, and as he sits there thinking about him, he realizes that it's too painful to even say his name, the wound still fresh, the heaviness of his abandonment pressing into his soul. With every sigh and memory, Trevor can feel just how heavy the darkness and loneliness of his empty trailer really is.

Trevor doesn't sleep that night. Or the night after that.