Trevor had taken to watching Eli sleep, during the past few days. Every little breath that Eli took, every single time one of his limbs or extremities twitched was an utter relief to Trevor, who didn't really understand why this was so.
It was strange, how peaceful the sight of the auburn infant snoozing was. It soothed even him, a man who struggled to sleep without prescription drug sold by the twitchy dealer who lived a few trailers down. It was more of a trade deal, really; a small baggy of crystal for enough valium to last a normal person almost a year. Trevor went to him monthly.
Though none of that mattered, now. He hadn't taken anything since the night he'd found Eli sickened, pratically snatched him back from Wade, like he were some sort of precious toy. And while he had begun to notice the withdrawal symptoms, they weren't bothering him all that much, not at that point, anyway.
The infant Trevor had been watching for quite a few hours, now, awoke with a sudden start. His face scrunched up alongside his fists, and he let out a sharp wail, awoken too early by his own will. Trevor started somewhat, scooping the child up and shushing him quietly, until the child was silent, sniffing to himself as Trevor carried him into the main room and set him in his bouncer chair, next to the sofa. He left the child there, rummaging around in cupboards for the painkillers he'd been instructed to give the child if he got sick by one of the strippers.
"You feeling alright, buddy? Because I sure ain't." Trevor drawled, opening the purple packaging and extracting a syringe, as well as the little bottle of medicine that 'was suitable from birth and up'. Trevor wasn't all that sure he trusted it. Nevertheless, he loaded the syringe to the brimming with the pink liquid and pushed it into his own mouth before heading to sit next to Eli.
"Y'know, kid... If I could have one do over, I think I'd try to get addicted to this stuff. I mean, I've gotten high off cough medicine, but this stuff actually tastes good." It was impressive, even to himself that Trevor was able to taste the medicine, his taste buds having been practically destroyed from the years he spent smoking meth and tobacco. While the former was still potentially something he would do, Trevor thought cigarette smokers abhorrent. The irony simply past him by.
He pressed a hand to Eli's forehead, frowning somewhat. He was warm, but not hot to the touch. Trevor didn't really know what that meant, whether or not he should give the child some pain relief if he wasn't entirely sure he had a temperature.
"You're pretty poorly, huh? I'm sorry if any of those hillbillies got you sick. I'll quarter them for 'ya." Trevor promised, moving to turn the television on and leaning backwards in his seat. Eli sniffled before he started to babble somewhat, waving his tiny hands in front of him, the motion bouncing his little chair up and down. Trevor sat forward again, showing interest.
"Really? Ronny said that to you? That's not very nice... I'll give him a nice sharp smack for you." He responded, planning to go through with his plan. The infant seemed to show enthusiasm with the idea, something which entertained Trevor to no end.
The somewhat back and forth conversation continued for some time, adding a pleasant amount of noise to the usually depressingly silent trailer. Until a faint roaring of an engine shook Trevor from the enjoyable conversation he was sharing with Eli, much to his tangible annoyance. He stood, teeth bared and fists clenched, poking his head out of the window angrily and surveying the landscape around his home.
There was a blisteringly clean yellow sports car, pimped out with tinted windows, the vehicle standing out against the dusty roads and Trevor's dirty, rusted old truck. Trevor didn't recognize the car, so the sight made him angry ridiculously tense. The male practically seething as he stuck his head back into his home, stalking over to the door and kicking the thing open, the sudden banging making Eli jolt in his seat, though the infant did not cry. Indeed, he attempted to stare after Trevor, who was stood on his porch, hands grasped firmly to the wooden fence that surrounded it, leaning down to grab a loaded shotgun he kept under his worn utility bench, just in case a tweaker stalked him home. He aim it at the figure, who looked alarmed, though Trevor's angered expression fell suddenly and he grinned idly. His aim did not quaver, however.
"It's been a while, you fat, traitorous waste of space. I almost started to miss you." Trevor informed Michael fondly, the male looking a mixture of alarmed and flattered. The male mustered a soft smile, dropping his hands to his side and approaching Trevor somewhat brashly.
"Ah, I missed you too, T. As much as one can miss a crazy psychopath, anyway." Michael responded, tapping his nose somewhat wryly.
"I'm not a psychopath. Not today, anyway. I've taken a few days leave." Trevor informed Michael, kicking the door to his trailer closed.
"Right, because psychopathy is purely a opt-in, opt-out kinda thing." The thief chuckled in response.
"You bet your ass, cupcake. Uh... Y'know me, hate to change the subject and all but... What're you doing here?" Trevor was jammed between curiosity and utter dread.
"Can't I come and visit an old friend once in a while without being interrogated about a fuckin' alternate motive? Jesus, Trevor." Michael shook his head mockingly, crossing his arms over his coat-clad torso. It was a pretty chilly night, to say the vast majority of San Andreas was usually hot weather all year round, to the point where power would be cut off during heatwaves to cope with the AC demand. Even Trevor was slightly cold, rocking on his heels and shivering against the cool air.
"Well... Sandy Shores is... A long way away from the glitz and glamour of Rockford Hills, Mikey. One wonders why you would... Inconvenience yourself like that, just for a courtesy call." Trevor mused almost mockingly. Michael let out a ragged sigh.
"You're tellin' me. There was a three mile tailback, on the highway, some impromptu drag race gone wrong. Added an extra hour to the journey." Michael shoved his hands in his coat pockets, gazing expectantly at his old friend.
"So, you gonna invite me in, or what?" Michael asked, prompting Trevor to visibly tense, Eli flashing into his thoughts. Something told Trevor that letting Michael know about the infant probably wouldn't be one of the best choices he'd made in his mistake-ridden life.
"Nah, nah... We should go out for a beer or somethin. I'm fresh outta booze, see, and I've been told by folk that my humble trailer isn't very... Hospitable, shall we say?" Trevor half-lied.
"Shit, T, I don't care. I just really, really need to sit down." Michael made to open the door to Trevor's home, but Trevor grabbed his wrist, eyes wide with unadulterated anger and slight panic.
"You know how fucking rude it is to barge into people's property, huh, you fruity little shit?!" Trevor barked, pushing Michael backwards. The male gave an indignant cry, bracing himself on the fence.
"Shit, Trevor, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Michael shouted, dusting himself off and backing away from Trevor's threatening stance, spotting the fire in his eyes.
"What's wrong with me?! What the fuck is wrong with you, you fuckin' cunt?! My home is my sanctuary, and I'll be damned if I let anybody violate it-" Trevor began to bellow at the thief stood in front of him, only to have Michael violate his personal space once again, approaching him, leaving little distance.
"I know about the kid, Trevor." Michael muttered faintly. Trevor went white, but he quickly bounced back, his hand wrapped around the doorknob as Michael stepped back, fishing a folder from his coat and offering it to Trevor.
"Lester gave these to me. He's in the hospital, but he managed to-" Trevor snatched the folder from Michael, shaking somewhat. He flicked through the masses of paper, two birth certificates, family histories, well forged documentation. He scanned over it, squinting in difficulty at all of the blurry seeming words.
"Who the Hell calls their kid... Kit...?" The addict practically choked out after a moment, shoving Eli's real birth certificate under the one that simply read 'Ryan Philips', the obvious fake, though the name Lester had chosen to spite him shot fury down his spine. There was a saddened sounding whine behind the door, and Trevor fell onto it, opening so he purposely stumbled. Michael looked relieved to see the healthy looking child, squealing at the sight of Trevor, the bouncer he'd been set in working to its purpose.
"That's the kid, right? Shit... He looks... Happy. Healthy." Michael remarked, Trevor setting the documents on his far less cluttered than usual kitchen counter and kicking the door shut, the thought of the chill getting to Eli nauseating him, much to his private disgust.
"What, you think I was just gonna leave him to fester in his own shit? I do have a heart, Michael. When I chose to have one." Trevor grumbled in response, wandering towards the infant and clicking him out of his chair, the child squealing pleasantly again. Michael lingered by the closed door, looking perturbed, forcing himself silent.
"What did you call him? I'm assuming you wouldn't of actually named him Ry-" Michael began, but Trevor shot him a look that silenced him, out of respect.
"Eli. Well, Wade and the strippers named him Eli, 'cause the honour of being named after the founder and CEO of TP Industries was an honour that those morons just didn't understand the true merits of. So, Eli Brad Philips." Trevor responded, pinching the child's nose. Though Eli wasn't really capable of much laughter yet, he smiled broadly. Michael grinned, a faux wince falling from his mouth.
"Really? You're seriously named him after that dick?" He let his concern drop for a moment.
"Sure. Respect for the dead and all. I toyed with the idea of naming him after you, but I don't want him becoming a entitled fucker by default, like your kids. Who are lovely, deep down, before you get all pissy." Trevor sat on his sofa, Michael tentatively following suit. He sat next to his friend and the child, offering the tiny redhead his hand, which the child immediately accepted with a concentrated expression.
"None taken." Michael assured, smiling a little at Eli, who was sweet, reminded him of Jimmy at that age.
"Listen... I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'd come here purely to... Y'know, deliver the documentation to you." Michael began suddenly, after a few moments of silence, Trevor having since torn an unhappy Eli away from the man, taken to bouncing him on his knee.
"I'm all ears, Mikey." Trevor responded, Eli opening his mouth in a wide, gummy smile.
"Lester told me... Hell, my common sense told me... That... Look, that doesn't matter. I know having a child doesn't fit your lifestyle so good, and I want to help you." Trevor's eyes widened in confusion, the maniac suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.
"The fuck do you mean, 'help me'?" The male snarled, Michael sitting up a little straighter, his arms suddenly outstretched, inching towards Eli.
"I'll take care of him. I swear to you. I can take him right now, hell, I even took Jimmy's car so I could fit the car seat into it. I'll raise him right, T, I promise. I'll let you see him whenever you want. I know how much he must mean to you, I can see it in your-" Eli was promptly shoved back into his bouncer, Michael dragged to his feet by a raging Trevor, who promptly pulled him out of the door, back towards his son's car, against the side of the vehicle.
"You're not taking him away. Not now. Not ever." Trevor warned in a deathly quiet tone. The male had gritted his teeth, glowering at Trevor.
"That baby is not a pet. He's a person, a real person who will need a loving, stable family. You're not either of those things, T." Michael responded darkly, prompting Trevor to smash Michael's head against the window, letting out a strangled bellow before backing away.
"You stay the fuck away. Understand?! You're not trying to help, you shifty fucker; you just want to corrupt him, like you did your kids, your whole fucking family!" Trevor shot back inside, bolting the trailer door shut and leaning against it, his entire body falling against it slowly, breathing heavy.
