A/N: Hi! Welcome to my overly short fanfiction. I wrote this on my phone in a notepad app, so please excuse the length. I'm trying to add on to my new fanfics, but every time I go to write, I have a new idea for another story pop in my head and then I never get around to doing it. Also, I may turn this into a few chapters long if people like it. If not, I'll just let it be a one-shot. Anywho, please enjoy this fic and leave some feedback!
Thank you!

Trevor asked, pain filling his gravely voice, "Did you ever think we'd end up here, Mikey?"
Michael gave a small laugh the best he could, his half smile being replaced with a frown after he truly thought about it. They both knew the answer to that, but it was something that needed to be said aloud even if nobody admitted it. He shook his head and responded, hearing the gears move inside the Foundry, "No, I didn't… I really didn't."

The two boys sat against a metal wall away from the shooting and commotion that Franklin and Lamar were pulling away from them. The two boys were on Franklin's bike driving around to try to distract the shooters and buy Trevor and Michael enough time to catch their breath. But, unfortunately, it would take much longer to heal them. With Michael shot in his stomach and Trevor shot in his shoulder, the inevitable was quickly on its way. Well, for one of them.
Michael inspected his wedding ring that was placed on his right hand, finger to the right of his middle.

Trevor sighed, shaking his head with a rare smile. He informed Michael, moving his head to see him, "Cliché till the end, eh?"
Of course Townley would be thinking about his ungrateful wife right now. That's what everybody in movies did right before they died, even if Michael didn't realize he was doing it.
Michael returned with a half smirk that was sad, scared, and accepting. He shrugged, placing his hands on the cool concrete next to him as he laid his head back. With sweat forming on his forehead, he asked, "D-Did you expect anything less?"

Trevor's smile quickly disappeared when he saw how in pain his best friend was becoming, bleeding out around a few broken ribs. This wasn't good. Or maybe, in a weird way, it was. Michael was always verging suicidal with his depressed personality along with simply just not caring if he continued on. Trevor was pretty much the same way, but amplified one hundred times more. The boys who drank to forget and killed to relive the glory days were coming to a quick halt. Remembering the times when Amanda wasn't pregnant, Trevor hadn't been hooked on drugs that bad, Lester always set up perfect scores, Michael was in shape (for the most part) and enjoyed what he did, and Brad being annoying with his constant complaining. Those were the times that Michael and Trevor, even if they don't admit it out loud, will take the life of an officer with a family so that they can feel like when they were carefree and young.

After a long silence, Trevor reached out to the shivering Michael, placing his hand on top of his. He said, "I expected another cliché. One that the heroes would somehow feel better."
Michael glanced up at him, body shaking and becoming cold from the blood loss. He gave a chuckle, asking, "Y-You think we are h-heroes in this story? R-Really?"

Trevor sighed quietly, closing his eyes. He mumbled to Michael, wincing from the growing pain of the bullet, "Not now. Maybe someone looking in would think we were the heroes. Maybe if we were in one of your stupid movies, someone in the crowd may feel sympathetic or some shit."

Trevor listened to the bullets being fired and the shouting of Merryweather and Devin Weston's body guards drawing near, assuming Frank and Lamar's distraction not being able to hold the group of guard's attention once they remembered there was two more targets to kill.

Trevor opened his dull brown eyes and gently turned his head to get a look at his dying friend. Michael had his own eyes closed while a frown displayed on his face accompanied by a cringe of pain. They both knew it was over for Michael, being shot in the torso. Trevor, on the other hand, hadn't got hit in any major artery and could easily stand up and walk away. But, a life without Michael was a life not worth living. The bleeding man was his best friend, favorite number two, and a bastard he couldn't help but to forgive.

With Trevor's words came a heavy decision. He asked Mike, "… Michael? Do you want me to put you out of your misery? We uh… We both know how this scene ends. It ends fuckin' horrible."

Michael felt his friend's hand on top of his. He didn't open his eyes as he preformed a slow nod. Unwillingly, tears silently streamed down his face. It was, oddly enough, not how he figured he would die. He never thought he would bleed out. Michael always imagined continuing to be extremely lucky and just simply die of old age. Or if murdered by anyone, it being Trevor out of anger when the other found him after his pretend death.

Trevor tightly interlocked his hand with Mike's instead of the gentle resting that it was before. If one was dying, so was the other. It was a suicide code that they made when they were just kids. Weird how neither of them went through with the promise nine years ago, though.

Michael gave a tiny chuckle as he explained, pain filling in the cracks of his paused words, "Amanda… She was gonna rent movies tonight. For the family. She promised Trace and Jim they could choose whatever movies and I would have to live with watching it… "

Trevor pulled out his silver pistol, pressing it against his own temple as a smile formed, hearing Michael at peace with this outcome. He had feared that if he died along side of his friend, that Mike would be crying or begging for his life. Trevor wasn't sure how well he could handle that display.

He rested the right side of his face against Michael's, hearing his breaths shallow with every passing minute. Feeling comfort in the fact the suffering, both physically and mentally, for the pair would be over soon, Trevor mumbled, "I am following you wherever you are going, Townley. Heaven, Hell, some sort of limbo- wherever. You don't gotta be scared. I'm right by your side, sugar."

He gave Michael's hand a squeeze. The other listened to Trevor's words. Not a few moments later he dragged, "Maybe we are the heroes… Maybe we aren't all bad… We are just fucked up clichés."

Trevor heard the guards enter the Foundry, shouting as they spread apart and searched for the two. Trevor wanted to be killed by his own hands rather than some random do-gooders who would get a medal for killing the most wanted men in America at their weakest.
With his final words, Trevor whispered along with a smirk, "I wouldn't want it any other way, Michael."
Just as the guards spotted the men, they witnessed Trevor firing off a single bullet that put a rest to the criminal duo.