A/N: First off, this is a high school AU, where Trevor and Michael meet in high school instead of in 1993 (according to the GTA wiki). After reading about 20 Michael/Trevor fanfics in one day, this idea popped into my head. Be nice, please. This is my first GTA fanfic. I really need to get a PS3 so I can play the game instead of religiously watching a playthrough of it on YouTube.
Enjoy!
The crowded and loud hallway of the North Yankton high school made Trevor Philip's already throbbing headache worse. He growled slightly and firmly ran his fingers through his already thinning hair. Now, Trevor was only seventeen years old and in the tenth grade – the curriculum for his Canadian school was much easier than the one here – but he already started balding like an old man. Most of the men in his family had begun balding around his age and Trevor really wasn't looking forward to being bald by the time he was twenty-five.
Trevor finally reached his locker and pulled out his history book before closing the locker back up and heading to his next class. He just wished that he was at home, but then again, he didn't wish he was home. His father was extremely abusive, but Trevor knew how to protect himself now.
Every time his father would try to start up a fight, Trevor would roundhouse kick him in his face or knee him in the groin area. Then, he'd run out of the house and spend the night at the nearby park until morning when his dad would be hungover and too fight with him again. Trevor's back was in pain from all those nights he spent in the small enclosed area of a jungle gym at the park, but it was better than having his whole body in pain from his father's beatings.
The worst part of it all was that Trevor's mom encouraged the abuse. Now, Trevor didn't know which abuser was worse, his mom or his dad, but they were both awful. A mother was supposed to be loving, comforting, and protective of her child. Trevor's mother wasn't anywhere close to that. She had high expectations of him and would constantly put him down for small things, even things he couldn't control such as having to repeat the ninth grade.
Whenever Trevor would do something that his mother would find unacceptable, she would laugh at him about it, shoving it into his face that he would never be successful and that she would never be proud of him. Angry with all the noise, his father would come in and pick a fight with Trevor and Mrs. Philips would just stand behind Trevor's father, encouraging him to beat her own son.
Man, if anyone's parents were fucked up, it was Trevor's – that's for sure.
Trevor sighed, entering his last class of the day – US history. He really didn't want to be in school anymore. The kids and teachers just pissed him off too much. He wanted to be back home in Canada, playing hockey and studying aircraft. Unfortunately, his anger issues would get in the way of both. He let out a dry chuckle as he remembered the time he got kicked off of the hockey team back in Canada for literally shoving his hockey stick up his coach's ass. The cocksucker deserved it, though.
Suddenly, Trevor got thrown out of his memory and found himself hitting the floor. He shouted from surprise and looked up to see that one of the football players had tripped him. This pissed Trevor off. Trevor got up and pushed the dust off of his shirt.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Trevor spat harshly.
"What the hell is up with your accent, man? Are you Canadian?" The football player laughed, obviously not intimidated by Trevor.
"YOU CAN BARELY FUCKING TELL! IT'S NOT AN ACCENT!" Trevor screamed, punching the football player in his groin area.
The football player bent over, clutching his crotch and moaning in pain. Trevor kicked the jerk in his head, sending him to the floor. Trevor got on top of the football player and started to throw random punches at his face.
"Dude, stop!" yelled someone who pulled Trevor off of the football player.
Trevor immediately turned around and tried to punch the person in the face, but they had a good, tight grip on his arms. Trevor recognized the person as Michael Townley, the quarterback of the football team.
"Let me fucking go!" Trevor shouted, struggling to get free.
"No, man, that's enough. You already probably shoved his nuts inside of him, you don't need to punch his face in, too," Michael said, tightening his grip on Trevor's arms.
"Fuck you," Trevor spat hatefully, finally freeing himself from Michael's arms. He angrily walked to his desk and sat down.
After class, Trevor immediately hurried out of the classroom and walked through the crowded and loud hallway. His head was still throbbing and he just needed to blow off some steam.
Suddenly, he heard a yell and turned around. He saw some guy roughly slam Michael Townley into the lockers.
"You were fucking with my girl, weren't you, Townley?!" The guy shouted, putting his hand around Michael's throat.
Michael sheepishly grinned. "Maybe just a little," he choked out.
"You're fucking dead!" The guy yelled, punching Michael in the face.
Michael tried to get the other guy's hand off of his throat, but failed. The grip was too tight and Trevor suddenly felt a fire ignite inside of him. He didn't want to help Michael, but he wanted to blow off some steam and this was the perfect opportunity.
Trevor walked up behind the guy and punched him roughly in the head. The blow was so hard that the guy fell to the ground on impact, immediately letting go of Michael's throat. Trevor walked up to the guy and started to kick him roughly in the stomach before stomping roughly on his head a couple of times. With one final stomp, the guy was bleeding and (hopefully) knocked out.
Trevor pulled away and the other students, including Michael, looked at Trevor and the other guy in horror. A girl walked up to the body and pressed her ear against the guy's chest.
"He's still breathing!" The girl said, sighing of relief.
Another guy picked up the body and helped him to the nurse as the other students walked away. Once the hall was cleared, Michael turned to Trevor.
"Thanks for that, man. I really appreciate it. Jeff wouldn't have hesitated to kill me," Michael said, smiling at Trevor.
"No problem," he muttered, glaring at Michael.
"I'm Michael Townley," Michael stated, "and you are?"
"Well, no shit you're Michael Townley. Almost everyone in school knows who you are, Mr. Quarterback," Trevor sneered. "I'm Trevor Philips."
"I know, almost everyone in school knows who you are from that one fight a few weeks ago," Michael stated.
Trevor smirked at the memory of the fight. Some cocksucker thought it would be funny to take away his lunch, so Trevor thought it would be funny to take away his breath – and not in the romantic way. Long story short, the guy who took away Trevor's lunch ended up with two broken legs, a concussion, and his finger bitten off.
No one fucks with Trevor's stuff – especially his food.
"Hey," Michael said, tearing Trevor away from his flashback, "I know we don't know each other well, but would you want to maybe come over to my place and hang out?"
"Why?" Trevor spat. No one had ever invited Trevor to hang out with them, in fear that he would blow up and cause trouble.
"You seem kind of lonely. Plus, I'll treat you to a beer. It's the least I can do for you for getting Jeff off of me."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Trevor snapped, offended that Michael thought he was lonely. Even though it was the truth, Trevor didn't want to be pitied.
"Hey, if you don't want to hang out, then whatever, suit yourself," Michael said as he turned around to leave.
Trevor was pretty lonely. He really wanted a friend, but everyone he came in contact with would be afraid of him. Michael was different, though. He wasn't afraid of him. He couldn't let him get away.
"Wait," Trevor sighed. Michael turned around. "Let's go to your place."
Michael smiled and walked out of the building with Trevor. Trevor had finally made a friend and he was going to try his best not to lose him.
When they got to Michael's house, it wasn't at all what Trevor expected it to be. Trevor expected a big, expensive house that was as clean as a whistle, but it was just the exact opposite. It reminded Trevor of his own house, a trashy small trailer. Michael held the door open and Trevor walked in with Michael following behind him.
"My room is down the hall, on the left," Michael said, pointing to the tiny hallway.
The house was extremely quiet, so he guessed that Michael's parents weren't home. It didn't look much different from his house – stains on the carpet, beer bottles and clothes littering the floor, and wait, did Trevor see a blood stain on the carpet or was he just thinking too much about his own house?
Trevor shook away the thought and walked into Michael's room and sat down on his bed. There were a couple of pin-up posters and dirty clothes covered most of his bedroom floor, along with some car magazines. Michael had a small TV and a VCR player on his floor. Next to the TV and VCR player was a small collection of western VHS tapes.
Michael walked into the room a couple minutes later with two bottles of beer in his hands. "Want one?"
"Toss 'er over here," Trevor said, holding his hands out. Michael tossed him a beer and he barely caught it, the bottle almost hitting the floor.
Trevor opened up the bottle of beer and took a small sip. He coughed slightly from the bitter taste. He had only drank a couple of times, after all. It took a bit of getting used to, especially since he disliked the smell because his father was a drunk.
Michael plopped down next to Trevor, taking a big gulp of his own beer.
"So, what does your room look like?" Michael asked as Trevor was examining the messy room.
"About the same as this, but without the car magazines. I'm more of a jet kind of person," Trevor stated, taking a bigger gulp of his beer.
Michael chuckled softly. "Ah, I see. So, are you planning on going to flight school after high school?"
"This isn't Twenty Questions," Trevor snapped. He could feel Michael tense up next to him.
"I don't know, maybe," Trevor answered, letting out a slightly stressed sigh.
"Hey, I have an Atari," Michael said, trying to change the subject. He stood up and bent down to reach his console underneath the bed. Michael pulled it out, along with four games.
"I had to save up my lunch money for a long time to be able to afford this. My parents think that video games melt your brain, but whenever they have extra time, they just sit in front of the TV in the living room until they fall asleep," Michael chuckled at his parents' hypocrisy.
Trevor wished that his parents gave him lunch money. He was lucky enough to occasionally find a quarter on the ground on the way to school sometimes so he could buy lunch. They didn't really have much to each at his house because Trevor's parents thought buying alcohol and cigarettes were more important than buying food.
"Since you're the guest, I'll let you choose which game to play," Michael said, putting the video games next to Trevor as he carried the Atari to the TV to hook it up.
"High-class hospitality," Trevor said sarcastically, looking at the different video games beside him.
"Only the best," Michael played along, hooking up the wires into his TV.
Trevor closely examined the video games next to him and picked one up with the label reading 'Indy 500.'
"Oh, that's a pretty fun racing game," Michael said, taking the video game from Trevor and popping it into his Atari console. He handed one of the controllers to Trevor and they began playing the game, racing each other.
"How do you work this stupid thing?" Trevor asked, fumbling with the controller in his hands.
"Well, you push this button to accelerate – " Michael pointed to the red button on Trevor's controller " – and you use the stick to move the car around."
Trevor nodded, letting all the information soak in. He was going to kick some serious ass.
About thirty minutes into the game, Michael had beaten Trevor in the game. Trevor groaned with frustration as he took one last swig of his beer, finishing the bottle.
"That's bullshit," Trevor grumbled.
"Want to go for another round?" Michael asked.
"You're on, cocksucker," Trevor exclaimed, tightening his grip on the controller as Michael started up the game again.
Another round later and Trevor stood up and shouted in victory. He had beaten Michael just barely, but he still won. Michael chuckled at him and Trevor looked down at Michael, glaring at him.
"And just what the fuck is so funny?" Trevor asked with anger dripping from each word.
"Nothing," Michael said, picking up the bottles and standing up. "I gotta throw these away before my parents see it."
Michael exited the room and Trevor sat back down on the bed. 'These stupid video games aren't as lame as I thought they were,' Trevor thought to himself.
Trevor always told himself stupid lies about the things that he wanted, but knew he couldn't have. He tried to tell himself that the thing he wanted was stupid and that he wouldn't want it anyway, but deep down, he knew he wanted it. Trevor seriously considered trying to save up money somehow to get an Atari of his own. It was pretty fun.
When Michael came back into the room, the sound of a door opening filled the house.
"Shit," Michael whispered, closing his bedroom door, "my mom's here and I'm not supposed to have any guests over."
Michael rushed to the Atari and turned it off, along with the TV. He quickly unplugged the console and shoved it – along with the games – back underneath the bed.
Michael turned to Trevor. "You gotta climb out the window, man."
"Are you insane?" Trevor asked.
"Michael?" a soft, feminine voice echoed into the room.
"Yeah?" Michael asked. Trevor could see him shaking.
"What are you doing in there?" she asked.
"Homework… Please don't come in, I'm really busy and I don't need any distractions," Michael's voice was a little shaky.
"Alright, Mikey, just don't overwork yourself," she said. Trevor chuckled silently at Michael's nickname and Michael shot him a glare. Suddenly, the sound footsteps fading away filled the room and Michael sighed of relief.
"I'm sorry about this, man, but you gotta get out of here. I'm not allowed to have people over on school nights," Michael said, opening the window in his room.
Trevor groaned of annoyance, walking over to the window. Halfway out of the window, Michael spoke up.
"Do you want to come over again Saturday? I promise you won't have to leave out of the window next time," Michael's lips tugged into a smile at his last sentence.
Trevor stayed silent for a few minutes before muttering a quiet 'sure' and slipping out into Michael's front yard. He scurried out of the yard and went to the park. He didn't want to deal with his dad's bullshit, not after having an enjoyable day at his first friend's house.
Trevor slid into his usual sleeping spot underneath the small roofed jungle gym and shuffled around, trying to get as comfortable as he can. He sighed and leaned his head against one of the jungle gym walls, slowly closing his eyes. Today was probably one of the best days Trevor has ever had.
A/N: I probably made Trevor and Michael out of character, even though I tried my best to keep them in character, so please point it out and give me some tips if I did make them OOC. I also probably got the information about the Atari wrong. I've never had an Atari, but my grandparents did. I thought it would be interesting for Michael and Trevor to play a little competitive racing game during their first hangout :P
Fun (probably boring to you guys) fact: I got the idea of Michael saving up his lunch money for an Atari from this story that my grandparents tell me from time to time about how my grandpa saved up his lunch money every day in high school for about a month to buy my grandma a ring. I don't know – my grandparents had an Atari and Michael saved up his lunch money for an Atari, which reminded me of this story my grandparents told me.
Anyways, I've kept you guys here for too long. I'll try to update this and my other stories regularly. I'm going on a sort-of-date tomorrow/later on today with this lovely guy I met x3 He has an account on here. It's xToxicxCarexBearx if you guys want to go check out his story or follow him or whatever.