"Oh, Michael," Trevor said aloud, a small, shaky chuckle vibrating throughout his chest. Even for Trevor, that 'chuckle' sounded far less than normal. "We've really done it this time, haven't we, bud?" The laughter was wiped from him almost instantly. His eyes, dulled and lifeless only moments ago, narrowed in fury — in sadness — in helplessness.
In loneliness.
He staggered to his feet, sending the empty beer bottle in his hand half-way across the airfield. "You FUCK!" He threw his head back and screamed. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER! Stick to the plan, right, M? STICK TO THE GODDAMN PLAN, THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID!" His voice was thick with alcohol, his eyes burned fiercely.
"And look where it got you!" Finally, he broke. A half-sob tore itself from the back of his throat and Trevor fell to his knees. The cold didn't bother him. Because, inside, he was on fire. "In the ground…" he all but whimpered. "Brad in the can and you in the fucking ground! You—…Mike…"
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks without shame. He was not ashamed to cry for a man who stuck by his side, through hell and back. He was not ashamed to cry for his best friend. "What happened?" He choked, crudely wiping the snot from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He didn't understand. He couldn't. How could everything have gone so wrong? "This ain't real," he whispered to himself, sounding almost serene. "It wasn't meant to be this way. It's fucking bullshit and you know it!" He snarled, ramming a fist into the dirt. "You sloppy son-of-a-bitch! Why? WHY COULDN'T YOU MOVE YOUR FAT ASS A LITTLE FASTER? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET YOURSELF GO DOWN? WHY DID YOU GIVE UP?!" His throat was raw and he could taste blood, but it didn't matter. Nothing did.
"Michael…answer me! YOU FUCKING ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!" His drunken bellows went unheard. Trevor bowed his head, the snowfall beginning to cover his back.
Michael would never answer him again.
"You can't do this to me…"
Michael couldn't hear him anymore.
"Don't—don't you—…don't you dare fucking leave me!" He cried, hands trembling at his sides. "Please, don't fucking leave me! Please, Mikey—"
Michael was his brother.
"No, no, no- not alone! Don't leave me alo—" his sentence trailed off into a jumble of unintelligible wails and muttered pleas.
"Mike…" he sobbed, letting himself slump to the side. "Mikey, no…God, no…"
Michael Townley was dead. And a chunk of Trevor Phillips died right along with him.