The hours ticked on and soon the PA system came on letting everyone who was still pouring their hard-earned money out on cheap bits of expensive plastic and cloth that the place would be closing down for the night. Trevor figured wherever his dad had gone off to would be closing down as well and he soon would return. Swarms of shoppers passed by him. Most ignored him, some saw them out of the corner of their eye and treated him like they would a homeless person they saw begging on the streets in the snow, and the others gave him harsh, judgement looks. Fuck them. Being herded like sheep through the mall by security guards. Fucking clueless.

Turns out Trevor was a bit too prideful in that regard. Soon a guard approached him. Trevor remembered her as being fat, mean and stupid. Who the fuck did she think she was yelling at him like he was some unwanted pest? He was waiting for his dad and he sure as hell wasn't gonna move from this spot until his dad came back just because some psycho chick told him to leave.

Unfortunately for Trevor he had very little say in the matter and was soon dragged across the dirty floor kicking and screaming like a fucking werewolf as this pig, place cruely out into the Canadian snow and told to "wait for his dad out here." Trevor placed his hands into the warm ovens of pockets on his well loved coat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until the sun rose.

Until the shoppers came back.

Until a guard asked him what the fuck he was up to.

Still, he did not move. He would wait for his father like a good son.

Until his mom pulled up in her dingy old car, sat him down and explained in the most un-sigar coated way possible that dad was not coming back. He had left him, his mom and his younger brother to fend for themselves.

The rest was a blur from there. Like walking through a haze of mist on a cold summer morning. Trevor didn't know to blame the meth or the omnipresent rage that hung over his every wake judgement call like a demonic shadow for this memory glitch.

He remembers matches.

He remembers flames.

He remembers watching fire trucks file in from a distance and try in vain to put the flames out.

He remembers a dog beaten to death behind the dumpster.

What he doesn't remember is screaming. Human one was in the mall at night. So no witnesses. No deaths which was an after thought for Trevor.

Michael. Fuck.

Trevor jolts awake and pulls his caliber out of his jeans getting ready to bust one in whoever is attacking their motel room but instead of finding a biker or a triad member Trevor only sees Michael pacing back and forth in front of the window attempting to get his breath under control. Trevor sighs in relief before angerfloods back in again.

"Michael the fuck do you think you are doing?"

No answer. Michael walks over to where Trevor had laid out his puke stained jeans and watches Michael rummage out a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket and a small lighter with an outline of a stripper plastered on the side. His hands are shaking badly.

"Sorry T. I didn't mean to wake you. Just going out for a smoke is all." Michael grumbles as he clumsily fumbles for his shoes in the dark.

Trevor rolls his eyes and snarks "Do you always scream like your a fucking seven-year-old getting molested by Ted Bundy in the middle of the woods when you go out for a smoke? Is it some Los Santos trend I am unaware of? How the fuck does Amanda put up with that?"

Michael chuckles nervously before sliding the door locks open and opening the door. Trevor feels a rush of heat enter the room. "Yeah. Something like that."

And just like that, he's gone. Trevor moved to the window and peers out the smoke-stained blinds as he watches Michael pace back and forth in the parking lot while waving his hands around Almost as though he having a full out argument with an invisible person. Trevor didn't know whether it would be more appropriate to go and confront Michael or sit in here and wait. He didn't know anymore.

In the old days, Michael had night terrors. He always has. They used to sleep in the same bed together as it was cold as balls outside most of the time in North Yankton and their body temperature combined was nice. It felt safe and relaxing. Trevor always thought so anyways. Whenever he was with Michael was always like that. Safe. Calm. Secure. In the dead of night, Trevor would be awake to soft pitiful mumbles and shaking coming from Michael who would then awake and proceed to go outside or to the bathroom to lock himself in like some snowed in Eskimo. Sometimes Trevor could even make out a small "dad" or "please" or "mom." Getting anything out of Michael was like breaking into a high max security prison. One would have had more success getting a politician to confess to every war crime committed while he was in office than to get Michael to open up about his true feelings.

He buried it and it wasn't healthy. When Trevor was sad he openly cried. When Michael was sad he pulled this shit. Back in North Yankton, there were times-flashes of moments-where Michael would be honest. Completely honest. One time he even cried in Trevor's arms and shook all through the night. Another was in a restaurant when they were sharing salsa chips and Michael offhandedly mentioned something about his messed up past. The others were when they were high or drunk or watching Michael's stupid movies he now helps produce.

But that was before Lundendorf happened. That was before what today now yesterday represented. Of course, Michael had shown his true colors. Multiple times since then. Trevor remembered when he screamed at that ass Steve Haines and his bitch Dave Norton after Michael had officially lost his goddamned mind over losing his family and becoming a puppet to the FIB.

"I've been making the wrong decisions my whole life T. It's how I ended up here."

Trevor pretended the implication that he may have been one of those wrong decisions didn't sting. It had been a good day. He had even let Michael win that race back to his meth lab. Yes it had been a good day. And an even better night. Any time Trevor had gotten the pleasure of seeing Michael in any state of undress was worth it. It being all Michael's shit.

Finally, after about half a damn hour Michael finally made his way back into the motel room. Trevor pretended to be asleep and felt the bed dip as Michael's fatass took a seat on the edge of the bed. He heard Michael making a low tired sighing sound. Trevor turned over to see Michael shoving the palms of his hands into his eye sockets and rolling his neck, A common nervous tic Michael had had since before Trevor met him under the blaze of a flair gun on a runaway home to stories that had never ought to be shared in a public space.

Then Trevor had an idea pop into his head. It may be a stupid idea that would push Michael further away or it may be a great idea that would bring them closer. Patience was key when dealing with these walls Michael had put up. And now ever since the truth had come out Trevor saw even more walls. Even more than the Michael had that he knew back in North Yankton. The walls of a man who had had to stay strong for the sake of others for too long.

Trevor slowly crawled over like some hideous deformed spider and slowly wrapped his arms around Michael's shoulders. He felt Michael flinch in surprise but he didn't pull away. That had to be a good sign. He then felt Michael's shoulders begin to shake and painful broken sobs came with it. Trevor pulled him closer.

Their history wasn't a pretty one of sunshine and rainbows. But it was theirs. And this time they didn't have to grieve alone. They could do it together.

Trevor didn't know how long he held Michael like that. They both didn't say anything. Trevor felt relief for being trusted again. This had to have been difficult for Michael to do.

They stayed like that and watched the sunrise over the horizons.