Sorry if this is dragging. The meat of the story will be back after this chapter! Till then enjoy these two old dudes hanging out.
Michael wanted to know what was wrong with teenagers these days, but to be honest, besides being dumber, he knew teenagers we're all rude little shits. He knew these kids probably were murderers or bank thieves though. That didn't trigger sympathy from Trevor, who borderline abusively took out a gang of cocky guys buy himself with is new-found paintball talent.
This place seemed to play music that would pump the kids up. Make them feel like they were actually doing something adventurous. He went a few rounds against Trevor, and shit these paintballs hurt, but there was a real thrill in here somewhere, even without money at stake. Hiding, ducking, shooting, bright pastel colors, and Trevor, fleeting. He was so hard to catch and it was so satisfying to land a hit. They we're kids again, and fuck all the years that went by. They were in their prime and always would be.
Trevor nearly peed. He got Michael pretty much everywhere except his chest. He limped awkwardly in his fit of laughter.
"Very funny. I still busted you up too."
"Ass shots are against the rules." Trevor said as they removed their gear. "God, bruised the meat down to the bone."
They were sweaty and breathing deep when they got back in the car. They called Franklin, let him know Trevor turned up and the good news about not executing Mrs. Madrazo. Franklin was pleased, asked if Trevor needed to stay over. They told him not now, he'd stay with Michael. Trevor asked about the dogs, and Franklin was happy to say he was really handling things well.
"But T man, look. I'm real glad to hear you're good. But you fucking disappear again, I will find you. It's not just Chop, I got some smart fuckers who will sniff your dirty ass drawers out in a second."
"Gotcha buddy."
"You got This, T. You can do it. 'Ey! Hol' up." Music started to play over the call.
"Franky man, don't." Trevor laughed but Franklin continued.
"'Snap ya fingers, take a step, you can do it all by yourself!' Say it T!"
"I'm T-Pain, you know me, blah blah blah, something close at three." Trevor sang to humor him.
"You got this, baby. Walk this shit out, but uh…"
"What F?" Michael asked.
Lamar's voice came through the call. "Why you two sound all deep breathing n shit?"
"Hello Lamar. Didn't know you were there." Michael said.
"You gonna answer the question? (Franklin growled "Shut up man, aint none of your business!")"
"We went paintballin," Trevor started. "Good thing you weren't there. Probably couldn't-"
"Do not begin to challenge me, dawg. Ya paint on each other balls all you want."
"Feisty! Challenge accepted. We'll figure out a date."
"Whatever. You do you homie. Don't go running off on niggas again."
"Ciao!" Trevor ended the call. "We need to get him better friends. Can't raise a boy around that kind of influence. Nosy prick."
The rest of the day passed well. They looked funny wherever they went, trying to act like nothing was sore. They finally got Trevor more clothes, more shoes, some sunglasses. When they ate, Michael purposefully adjusted whatever Trevor ordered. Extra bacon, whipped cream on this, peanuts on the sundae, make everything real greasy.
"Jesus Mikey, just order me a shot of whatever they fry all this shit in, why don't you?"
Michael tuned to the server. "Will we actually get a shot of that?"
The teenager looked very confused. "I'll see what I can do. You want any dip or condiments?"
"Yeah, just bring everything."
"Mikey what the hell-"
"You're too skinny." He pointed to the girl. "Sweetheart, make them wreck that burger with bacon."
They drove and talked and argued about whether to not Hookah was stupid or great. There were a dozen things Michael wanted to ask about therapy and why Trevor was acting so much like himself after it seemed like his brain finally short circuited. Michael got a heavy feeling when he thought about it but when he looked to his right and saw Trevor making faces and feeling whatever he wanted, Michael was relieved.
It got dark and to Michael's surprise, Trevor didn't want to go see strippers.
"No tonight man. You're bitch wife is finally out of the house and you want more strippers?"
"No, I thought you'd want some entertainment."
"You're entertaining me just fine, Mikey. Don't get me wrong, I haven't fucked in a lounge time now that I think about it. But I just don't…" Trevor shrugged, trying to think of what else to do.
This concerned Michael just slightly. "You never don't fuck."
"Im still coming down, you know. I haven't really used since the last time I saw you. You stuffed my gut like a pig, an I'm still.. you know. Coming to terms with-"
"Got it. Say no more." Don't get him talking about his mother. Not yet. Not until therapy took care of that and he never had to see that awful shiver. "We will go home, have some drinks. Put ice on your ass."
"How thoughtful."
More shitty movies, ones they took from Jimmy's room. They netflix'd a load of shows, staying away from Breaking Bad. Trevor thought it was awful.
"Hipster," Michael whispered at his scotch.
Trevor laid so he plopped his head into Michael's lap as he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Noooo." He rolled onto this back and looked up. "Your hips stirred. Swinging that all around the house this morning. We're you at full mast?"
"Fucking TEE!"
"You thought I forgot, sailor?"
"Get off-" But Trevor grabbed Michael's arm before he could push him off. There was a strange pause as they looked at each other. Michael almost spoke but Trevor said, as if asking the time of day "Can I stay up here tonight? You're kids rooms are weird."
"Heh?"
"Can't believe you let Jimmy play those Grand Theft Auto games."
Michael tried to sputter out words but failed. "Gah, fine! But don't get funny, you drunk, grabby fuck. You been saying an awful lot of jokes about that shit."
"Jeez, Mikey. What's wrong? Intimacy problems lately? Something you never talked out with Mandy?"
"Off."
"No." Trevor rolled onto his side. "Doctor says I crave attention."
"Obviously."
"No, not just focus." Despite his discomfort, Michael listened intently. "Says I wasn't held enough growing up. Says I shoot people away for real because I'm 'mimicking behaviors'."
"… From who? Why? That sounds like, I don't know, psychobabble."
"Yeah, but it's true. Says its because my parents 'kept me at arms length', or you know, left me at the fucking mall." Michael was really uncomfortable. "You know…" Trevor tensed slightly. "Goodman said when parents fight, sometimes little kids hit their toys or make their dolls fight, too."
Michael understood, but he could barely keep his own kids in check. Fuck, he couldn't keep them in check at all. Now he had a grown, dirty, lonely, scared child in his lap trying to talk about feelings.
"When you told Franklin I didn't go off on anybody… you really embarrassed me." Trevor sat up, looking grumpy.
"Why? Lamar doesn't know about what happened, and Franklin's part of the trio."
"Its how you said it!" Trevor said, maybe angry. "It sounded so… so stupid! Like I just showed you some crappy finger-painting I was proud of from school, like I got an A and you just had to tell Franklin!"
"Am I not supposed to? Trevor, stop fuckin' around, alright? How was I supposed to say it?!"
"grr...You said it the right way!" Trevor said reluctantly, like he had to force the words out. "It's not like how it sounds after a score and we're all happy about it! It's-"
"You did something good, T! You did bring me home an A! Do you know how long it's been since anyone here got an A? My kids are morons."
Trevor exhaled slowly as he gripped the bed.
"I'm proud of you." Michael said firmly. "You hear that? Did I say it wrong cause I'll do it different." When Trevor was quiet, maybe about to zone out again, he took a jab at his side. "Proud! Of you!"
"Stop, don't tickle me, shit!"
"Then stop phasing out. We gonna watch tv or not?"
For once, Michael slept like a stone. Despite Trevor's eventual snoring, he was comfortable. He knew where Trevor was, Franklin wasn't out with him trying to prevent disasters, and with enough strange therapy, Mrs. Phillips would stay buried in the woods instead of rotting away in her son's psyche.
Somehow, he woke up with Trevor sleeping the wrong way on the bed. Trevor's leg was on his chest and his sock was too close to Michael's face for his liking. T was in his underwear, big surprise, face turned towards Michael's foot and drooling with his mouth open. Michael jammed his foot in, waking Trevor up and making him spit to clear the taste.
"Fucking ew!" He said, only lifting his head. "What the hell!" He said angry, yet gently caressing Michael's chin with his toes.
"Get up asshole!" Michael said rolling quickly out of bed.
"Grumpy in the morning, still?" Trevor said, covering himself with the blanket. "You can wake up, been a long time since I…" he yawned. "… Had a nice bed… to sleep…" He was out again.
They just stayed at home that day. It was strange seeing Trevor move around the house and mess with things. Strange, because he wasn't breaking things and sauntering around like a badass. He was calm and curious and just fucking weird. Trevor was soooo relaxed and his sarcasm wasn't biting and harsh, just comedic. Michael almost died of shock when he walked out and saw him just in underwear, floating face down in the pool. He jumped right in and tried to pull him out of the pool, but an arm suddenly wrapped around his head and pulled him under.
Trevor surfaced and laughed like a maniac, and Michael came up a short while later.
"You still fell for that! It's been more than a decade and you still-"
Michael's fist connected harshly with the side of Trevor's face. "SHUT UP, TREVOR!"
Michael's face was red and despite being soaked from water, Trevor could see his eyes watering. Michael blinked it away but kept his eye on Trevor. "GET THE FUCK INSIDE, JUST GET THE FUCK INSIDE!"
Trevor got out, looking back over his shoulder repeatedly at Michael, nervous. But he came back with a towel and some dry shorts he pulled out of the clothes hamper.
"Where are you staying after tonight?" Michael growled, drying off.
Trevor's jaw quivered slightly before he said "It's cool, I'll leave, I'm sorry M, I-"
"Like hell you are." Michael sighed. Throwing the towel in Trevor's face, he added "You live here now. You don't have any shit in the rathole you go to that I can't get you a better version of, so you stay your ass here, and don't go ANYWHERE I don't know about!"
Amanda was pissed. She went on and on about how the kids would be back and why was Trevor here and why was the lamp her mother gave her broken (You don't even like that lamp!). The look on her face, oh they should have took a picture, when Michael said very calmly "He's gonna stay in my room."
"YOUR ROOM?!"
"Yes, because this is my house! I bought it. Like I bought those." He gestured at her breasts. "Because unfortunately for you, he's moving in. Tracey wants her furniture, so he's gonna get her room. I'll paint it bright orange," he waved his hand.
"I hate orange. And I hate Trevor!"
"Hey, hey!" Trevor said. "There it is. All these years and you finally come out with it; Terrific, honey! Thought you'd never confess your feelings for me."
"I do! You ruin everything! God, it always goes back to you! You never liked me, you're not better than anyone!" She looked so angry, but Michael showed no reaction. Let her run her tantrum.
"Always, always, always! Michael had a shot at a normal life, we all did! And then you spring up after not even going to his funeral! Ten years away from you-"
"Blissful I'm sure!" Trevor shot.
"And you're still ruining everything!"
"Sure I did, it wasn't you bending and twisting for your yoga instructor, trying to get some cheap thrills and wondering if he could see how wet you were getting through your bright little leggings and zero panties, right?"
"Trevor!" She screeched. "I'm tired of you're trash talking! All you are is trash, trash, fucking trash!"
"Enough!" Michael yelled. "I'm packing your shit and you better find a place fast cause I'm not having this!"
"Until I move out this is my fucking-"
"You're not my wife! This is getting finalized this goddamn week! It's not your problem! You got nothing to be jealous about!"
"Jealous?!" She said in disgust. "You think I'm-"
"Jealous! Fucking Jealous! Find someone who wants to lavish all their earnings on you and Nama-stay the hell away from here!"
He was going to tell T to go with him upstairs, but he wasn't around. He went out the open door and saw Trevor taking one of his cars.
"I'll be back, he muttered from inside.
"Get inside, I know what she said just-"
"I have things to do."
"Trevor-"
"You listen to me." Trevor spoke low and fast. "You better get back in there and hold on to your word. You take apart all her shit and you pack it or hide it or burn it, but get it out. That is your fucking castle and if she breaks any of your shit, I'll break her fucking fingers and stick them in her gaping cunt." He put on his seatbelt. "If I stay, its just going to be harder for you. I'm going to the Shores, Im not gonna do meth. I'm gonna get some things and I'll come back as soon as this is clear," He grabbed Michael by the shirt and pulled him close. "We don't run from our problems anymore Mikey. We run to them." He pushed Michael back and sped off.
And just like that, Trevor was gone, Amanda was screaming, and Michael was alone. Everything was back to normal.
I hate normal.