Chapter Text
Every weekday, Trevor takes The Arrow to work. Seven-thirty sharp, two coffees deep into another boring day, head resting against the window, eyes closed. Nothing exciting ever happens to him unless he counts the number of times Ricki Lukens’ computer contracted viruses because of his porn problem. One time a virus managed to get into the servers and LifeInvader had to be shut down for the day. Trevor still has nightmares about the complaint emails.
Trevor’s boss, Jay Norris is a self-righteous douchebag who thinks he’s God because he invented LifeInvader, and Trevor is just waiting for the day he can quit, but he’s trying to finish his online courses and for all it’s cons, working as an IT guy at LifeInvader does pay better than not having a job so he’s stuck there until he graduates. He’s not happy about it.
Tuesday, like clockwork, he’s on The Arrow, somewhere in the middle, squished between a homeless guy and some woman who’s been texting her husband ever since she sat down. Unfortunately, she’s the type to tell her phone what to say instead of typing it herself so Trevor has had to listen to half an argument for the past ten minutes. He’s getting a headache.
The train starts to slow and, thank God, the woman stands up. She mutters darkly to herself, shoving her phone into her bag, and stalks off the train, her purse hitting the homeless man and waking him up.
“Bitch,” the homeless man grumbles, yawning widely, and stands up. He storms to the end of the train, dropping into an empty seat, and Trevor lets out a breath, stretching out. One more stop to go, maybe he can take a ten-minute nap.
He’s just closed his eyes when someone drops into the seat next to him, stretching their legs out, their knee knocking against his, and he opens one eye, looking over at them.
His bleach-blond hair hidden under a backward ballcap, black sunglasses covering his eyes, flannel sleeves rolled up to the elbows, knees ripped out of his jeans, Trevor can’t tell the exact age of the guy. Everyone in Los Santos seemed to dress this way, regardless of their age. He could be in his twenties, he could be forty; it doesn’t matter, he’s invading Trevor’s space.
The guy leans back into the seat, tilting his head back and resting it against the window, crosses his arms, and immediately starts to snore. Trevor lets out an annoyed huff. There are so many empty seats, why is this dude sitting next to him?
He doesn’t get his nap, more preoccupied with keeping the guy’s head off his shoulder, and is actually grateful when the train stops at his station. He gets up, grabs his bag, and hurries off the train. When he risks a look back at him, Trevor swears the dude is smirking.
“Prick.”
Friday morning Trevor is running a little late, cursing himself for that late night gaming session he had with his roommate. It’s not like he’s going to get into trouble, Jay doesn’t even bother showing up to the office until well past noon half the time, but Trevor likes to get there before Ricki. Sometimes he uses other people’s computers for his habits. Most of the time Trevor’s. He doesn’t feel like wasting his whole morning reapplying every single one of his antiviral programs to his computer.
The train is crowded when he gets on it, and he’s forced to stand in the back. He checks the time: 8:21. Trevor groans, putting his phone back in his pocket. He should just bite the bullet and buy a car.
The train shakes back and forth and someone accidentally bumps into his shoulder. A pair of hands quickly catch him before he falls over and a guy says, “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor mumbles moving over a bit, accidentally nudging another guy. “Sorry.”
When the train stops at his station, he allows the crowd to sweep him off the car and onto the platform. He’s nudged again, but this time there’s no apology and he rolls his eyes. Typical LS citizen.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees the name on the screen.
Text from Prick: You’ve got a cute butt ;)
Who is this? Trevor texts back. He doesn’t get a reply, and he knows he should probably delete the number and be done with it, but he shrugs and leaves it.
Saturday he sleeps in until noon. If he had his way, he would have slept all day, but his bladder is full and his stomach is growling so with a heavy sigh he gets up.
After relieving himself, he stumbles into the kitchen, finding a note stuck to the fridge from Jakob telling him to eat something other than Lucky Charms. Trevor snorts at the note, grabs a big bowl from the cabinet, and pours half the box of Lucky Charms into it. He’s an adult; he’ll do what he wants.
He sits down on the couch, turns on the TV, and loses himself into several episodes of SpongeBob. He really should do some of his assignments, knows he has one or two due at the end of next week, but he’s got all day tomorrow. He’ll be fine.
Jakob comes back around three, sighing when he sees the cereal bowl sitting on the coffee table, but he doesn’t say anything. He sits down next to Trevor, steals the remote, and turns the channel.
“I was watching that,” Trevor says, deadpan, but he doesn’t try to steal the remote back.
“That’s unfortunate,” Jakob responds and they spend the rest of the afternoon watching Animal Planet.
Around five, Jakob gets up to make himself something to eat and Trevor wanders into his room to make an attempt at getting dressed. He notices his phone is blinking and he walks towards it.
He has one missed call from Asher, a couple texts from Ricki (what the fuck does he want?) and another text from Prick.
Missed you on the subway today :(
Trevor starts to type out who is this, but deletes it and instead texts: Saturday is the day for rest.
Isn’t that Sunday? Prick texts back almost immediately.
Trevor sends back the shrugging emoji and tosses his phone on his bed. He walks towards his closet, halfheartedly pokes at his clothes, and gives up. It’s after five, he has no reason to get dressed.
He wanders back into the living room, collapsing facedown onto the couch, and immediately grunts when Jakob sits on his legs.
“Do you mind?” He tilts his head so he can look over at Jakob.
“Nope,” Jakob replies shaking his head, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. “You wanna watch a movie?”
Trevor sighs. “Sure.”
Monday morning, Trevor is still playing phone tag with Asher. He tried calling him back Sunday morning before heading to the gym, but he got his voicemail. Asher called him two hours later when Trevor had been in the shower, and he didn’t answer when Trevor called him at six. It’s something they do; they’ll eventually talk.
The subway stops, doors sliding open, and a bunch of passengers leave the car. A few more get on, but for the most part the train is empty, so Trevor can’t figure out why someone decided to sit by him again.
“Okay, call me back I guess,” he says, ending the call, and glances over at whoever sat next to him, sighing softly. It’s the same guy from last Tuesday.
Today he has on a green tank top and brown pants, but he’s still wearing those black sunglasses. He’s underground; why is he wearing them?
The guy pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and starts scrolling through LifeInvader. Trevor rolls his eyes; of course, he has a LifeInvader. Who doesn’t? Even Trevor has one, but he rarely uses it. He’s had enough of that website for a lifetime.
Trevor puts his phone away, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his legs out in front of him and closes his eyes. He jumps when his phone buzzes, his eyes snapping open, and he pulls it from his pocket, figuring it’s a text from Asher promising to call later.
Text from Prick: I think that guy just took a piss in the corner.
Trevor sits up, his eyes scanning the train. He sees the man Prick is referring to, drunk off his ass and swaying back and forth with the train, trying to zip up his fly before anyone notices, and he quickly looks away, trying to find Prick instead.
Everyone seems to be on their phone. Some checking Bleeter, others LifeInvader, a few scrolling through their playlists trying to find the best track to drown out everyone else; only one or two are actually texting but Trevor has a feeling they’re not Prick.
He looks back at his phone and types: Are you following me?
He doesn’t get a response, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He spends the rest of the train ride watching everyone suspiciously and practically runs off the train when it stops at his station.
Trevor’s phone buzzes around eleven, vibrating against his desk and startling him out of his bored stupor. He sits up, picking up his phone, and rolls his eyes when he looks at the screen.
Text from Prick: You wanna get lunch?
His stomach clenches with sudden nerves, eyes scanning the room almost as though Prick is lurking in the shadows, watching him, waiting with bated breath for his answer. They’re not, of course, Trevor doubts they know where he works. At least, he hopes they don’t know where he works.
He looks back at his phone, types and deletes several responses, and finally settles on: I don’t usually get lunch with people I don’t know.
Wise, Prick responds followed by, I’m Aleks.
He has a name. It doesn’t tell him much, but it’s more information than he had this morning. Trevor taps his fingers against his desk, staring at his phone for a long moment before slowly typing: Where?
He’s not much of a risk taker, the downside of having social anxiety, so Trevor is a ball of nerves when he steps into the small diner. He nearly turns around twice, but he’s made it this far. He might as well see this through.
The place isn’t exactly busy considering it is lunchtime, and most of the customers are old people, but there’s one young guy sitting in the furthest booth from the door. A guy Trevor recognizes immediately.
Are you kidding me?
He sighs and walks towards the last booth, stopping right next to the table, and says, “You’re Prick?”
The guy from the train, Aleks looks up and smiles. “Surprised?”
“Well, yeah,” Trevor admits, dropping into the booth across from him, running a hand down his face in exasperation. “How’d you get my number?”
“I stole your phone,” Aleks replies, picking up the menu from the rack on the table. “This place has good burgers.”
“You stole…?” Trevor thinks back to Friday, remembering when that random guy ran into him and apologized. He hadn’t really given it much thought at the time, he gets bumped into all the time, but now it makes sense, and he huffs softly.
“Do you normally stalk people or is this a new thing for you?” he asks, fixing Aleks with an accusing stare.
“I never stalked you,” Aleks says casually, not even looking up from his menu. “You don’t own the subway.”
“But I do own my phone. Which you stole.”
Trevor can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he’s pretty sure Aleks rolls them. “I gave it back.”
A waitress walks over to their table, asking them what they want, and Aleks orders a burger. He looks up at Trevor and says, “Order whatever. I’m buying.”
Trevor sighs but picks up Aleks’ menu, glances at it for a few seconds, and orders chicken tenders and a coke. The waitress nods and closes her order book, disappearing into the back.
“At least tell me you’re not a serial killer,” Trevor says slowly, half joking, tapping his fingers against the table.
“Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”
Trevor shrugs, “Probably not.”
“Then I guess we’ll see.”
Aleks isn’t a natural blond; his best friend is named James; he has a dog he loves more than anything; he might not be a serial killer (Trevor still isn’t sure); he’s fun to talk to and Trevor admits he doesn’t even feel bad when he accidentally takes an hour lunch.
He returns to the LifeInvader office with a smile on his face and plans to have dinner with Aleks on Saturday. He’s not even mad when he has to sift through his computer, removing viruses. Ricki could have blown the fucking thing up and he probably would have laughed.
For the first time in a long time, nothing in this place can wreck his good mood, not even Jay playing some techno bullshit for the rest of the day. He even bobs his head to the music.
Just a little.
They’re not exactly dating. Trevor has no plans to bring Aleks home to his parents (he hasn’t even told Jakob or Asher that he’s seeing someone), and he’s not expecting to be dragged to some random get together to meet Aleks’ friends. They’re just two people having a good time.
It doesn’t stop the way Trevor’s heart clenches with worry when Aleks gets on the train Wednesday morning. His face is full of bruises and his bottom lip is split. His knuckles are bruised, and he’s favoring his left ankle. He literally looks like a garbage truck ran him over and then backed up to finish the job.
“Are you okay?” Trevor asks, hands hovering over Aleks’ shoulder, afraid to touch any part of him and cause him more pain.
“You should see the other guy,” Aleks jokes, chuckling softly, wincing in pain. “I’m fine,” he assures Trevor, giving him a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me.”
“What happened?” Trevor finally reaches out, trembling fingers hovering over Aleks’ lip.
“My own clumsiness,” Aleks replies with a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Walked in front of a cab. Probably shouldn’t have been texting and walking. But, you know, this cute guy I’m currently seeing was sending me sleepy morning texts.”
Trevor’s face flushes and he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
“No, hey, this isn’t your fault.” Aleks takes Trevor’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks, and says, “I’m fine. I swear.” He murmurs something in another language, maybe Russian, and softly brushes his lips against Trevor’s, wincing again.
“What’d you say?” Trevor whispers, eyes closed, breath puffing against Aleks’ face.
“I think this is your stop,” Aleks replies and lets Trevor go, leaning back in his seat. “See you later.”
Trevor nods, getting to his feet, and stumbles off the train, heart fluttering in his chest, a fond smile playing across his lips. He might be starting to fall for Aleks; a bit too hard.
Oh boy.
Trevor doesn’t make it a habit to wander outside at night. He’s only been living in Los Santos for about a year, but he’s heard how dangerous this city can be, especially once the sun sets, and his biggest fear is running into someone like The Vagabond or Nova down a dark alleyway.
But stuff happens, and he totally loses track of the time hanging out at Asher’s. It’s almost midnight, and he can’t seem to get a cab to stop for him. He curses under his breath, knowing he should have taken Asher up on his offer for a ride home, and thinks about calling Jakob when cold metal presses into the back of his neck.
Trevor tenses up, slowly raising his hands, and he stammers, “I-I’ll give you anything you want. P-please don’t kill me.” He’s trembling, teeth chattering, and he’s not above begging for his life. He doesn’t want to die. He’s not ready to die.
“You Trevor?” An unfamiliar voice asks, and he immediately nods.
“Y-yes. Please don’t kill me.” A tear rolls down his cheek and he wants to wipe it away but he’s afraid to move.
“Relax dude, I’m not going to kill you.”
“Y-you’re not?”
“No.” The gun is pulled away and Trevor swears he’s going to shit himself. The guy laughs, loud and jovially, and he says, “Damn, Aleksandr said you were a civvy, but I didn’t think he was being serious.”
“Y-you know Aleks?” Trevor slowly turns around, body still twitching in fear, and he gets his first look at the guy.
His hair is tied up in a tight bun on top of his head, dark eyes blazing dangerously, a devil may care smirk on his face. He looks like he’s taken a life or two and didn’t think twice about it.
“Yeah, I know Aleks.” The guy puts his gun away, chuckling softly, shaking his head. “He’s never mentioned me? Ever?”
“I don’t even know who you are?” Trevor snaps, wrapping his arms around himself, gripping his elbows tightly. His shaking is slowly subsiding and his fear is morphing into anger.
“Oh, yeah.” The guy rubs the back of his neck, sucking in a deep breath between his teeth. “James.”
“James?” This is James? “Yeah, Aleks has mentioned you a few times. You always greet Aleks’ friends like that?”
“Friends? You sure you’re just friends?”
Trevor isn’t sure what he and Aleks are, but he’s not about to admit that to James, so he just shrugs.
James scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, and Trevor shrinks back self-consciously. “You love him?”
Taken aback, Trevor chokes out, “T-that’s not…”
James snorts, tilting his head, and quirks his eyebrows. “Interesting.” He stalks towards Trevor, and for a moment he thinks James is going to attack him, but he walks past him, heading down the street, calling over his shoulder, “You coming or not?”
“What?”
“You need a ride, I have a car. Let’s go before I leave you.”
Trevor almost doesn’t follow him, but he hears a loud crash and quickly chases after James.
“Hey,” Aleks greets Trevor Monday morning, dropping a kiss on top of his head before sitting down next to him. “You have a good weekend?”
“It was…” Trevor trails off, thinking of the right word. “…interesting. I met James Saturday.”
Aleks stiffens and he numbly says, “What?”
“Yeah. It’s not every day I’m introduced to someone at gunpoint.” He’s trying to sound casual, but Trevor can’t quite keep the anger out of his voice. He’s not mad at Aleks, not really, he’s more angry at the company he has chosen to keep.
“Are you okay?” Aleks scans his body, looking for signs of any injuries, concern and something else, something Trevor couldn't quite pinpoint, blazing in his eyes. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”
Trevor feels his anger slowly ebb away, and he shakes his head. “No, he didn’t hurt me. Scared the shit out of me, but otherwise I’m fine. He gave me a ride home.”
That had been interesting. It had been the most intense silence Trevor had ever sat in; not even the soft indie rock playing from the car’s speakers helped the buzzing in his ears. It had sounded more like white noise than actual music.
“The way you talk about him, I wasn’t expecting…” Trevor gestures with his hand, trying to find the right word.
“Yeah, James is… intense.”
“That’s one way to describe him,” Trevor mutters. He would have said really fucking scary, but he’s Aleks’ best friend. He’s not sure he should be insulting the guy at this stage in their relationship.
“What’d he say?” Aleks asks, curious but also wary, his eyes still periodically scanning Trevor, still looking for signs that he’s been harmed.
Trevor’s feels his face flush, remembering how James bluntly asked if he loved Aleks, and mumbles, “Nothing much.”
“Huh, usually I can’t get him to shut up,” Aleks jokes, but he’s still worried and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’d tell me if he threatened you right?”
“He didn’t,” Trevor insists, offering him a pale smile. “I promise, I’m fine.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, and murmurs, “Thanks for caring.”
Aleks huffs, ruffling Trevor’s hair. “If anything ever happened to you…” he trails off when the train stops, gently patting Trevor’s face. “This is your stop.”
Trevor nods. “Yeah.” Reluctantly he pulls away, getting to his feet, and waves goodbye as he steps off the train.
Aleks is the first person, besides Asher and Jakob, to care about his well-being since he moved to this city, and he can’t keep ignoring the way his chest flutters every time he reminds himself of that, but he tries to anyway.
Nobody said he’s perfect.
Jakob and Asher are arguing over where to eat when Trevor tells them he’s seeing someone. They both abruptly stop talking, direct their attention to him, and say, “Who?”
“You know, it’s creepy when you two talk together,” Trevor points out and they roll their eyes. “And do that.”
“Who is it?” Jakob demands, waving off Trevor’s comments, practically crawling onto the island so he can grab Trevor’s shirt. “I need details, motherfucker.”
“Hey, hey, let’s not strangle him before he can tell us,” Asher says softly, dragging Jakob away. “But seriously, Trevor, we need details.”
He tells them about Aleks, leaving out the part where James pointed a gun at him, and afterward they say, “We need to meet him.”
“Stop!” Trevor exclaims, covering his ears. “It reminds me of The Shining.”
Jakob shares a look with Asher and then curls his index finger and says, “Redrum, Trevor. Redrum.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Seriously, when are we going to meet him?” Asher asks, pushing Jakob’s finger out of his face.
“Whenever, I guess,” Trevor mutters, tracing shapes into the counter top with his fingers. He’s not aware he’s tracing Aleks’ name until he looks up and sees Asher and Jakob grinning. “What?”
“Were you just tracing his name?”
“What? No.” Trevor’s face turns red and he hops off the stool, nervously pulling on his ear. “I’ll ask him about meeting you two.”
“Okay, Loverboy,” Asher says and Jakob makes kissy faces at him.
“Fuck you two,” he grumbles and storms out of the room, listening to them snicker after him. He needs new friends.
Trevor snorts awake, unsure what woke him up, only to hear an familiar buzzing. He rolls over, picking up his phone, groaning when he looks at the time. 2:46? Who calls someone at 2:46?
“Hello?” he croaks, running a hand through his hair.
“T-Trevor.”
“Aleks?” He abruptly sits up, suddenly wide awake, worry gripping his chest tightly. “Aleks, what’s wrong?”
“Trevor…” his voice is weak, barely above a whisper, and Trevor has to strain to hear him. “Trevor… I…” he draws in a ragged breath, letting it out, and says, “I love you…”
The call suddenly ends.
“Aleks! Aleks!” Trevor gets out of bed, trying to call him back, but it goes straight to voice mail. “No, no, come on.”
He keeps trying until a harsh, nasally voice answers with a sharp, “Who is this?”
“Where’s Aleks,” Trevor demands, not caring who’s on the other end. “Tell me where he is now.”
“Who is it?” another voice barks in the background, and this one Trevor recognizes.
“Is that James? Let me talk to him.”
He hears the phone get passed to someone new and James says, “Trevor? What do you want?”
“What do I want? Aleks just called me. Is he okay?” Trevor paces across his bedroom floor, fingers trembling so hard he’s afraid he’s going to drop his phone. “What happened?” He’s trying really hard not to think of Aleks’ last words to him.
No, not last. Those were not his last words. He’s fine, he tells himself, curling his free hand into a fist, willing himself to stay calm.
“Trevor, look man…” James’ voice break and Trevor abruptly stops, a shiver racing down his spine. “He’s…” he hears a shaky breath and then James says, “I’m coming to you. Where do you live?”
“What?” he hears the nasally guy say in the background, and James hisses something at him. The guy snorts and says, “I’m always the last to hear about these things.”
Trevor doesn’t know why he does it, but he rattles off his address quickly, surprised he can remember it in his panic, and James hums before promising to be there in ten minutes. He ends the call and Trevor quickly gets dressed, rushing out of his bedroom, nearly colliding with Jakob.
“What’s going on?” he asks, rubbing his bleary eyes.
“I don’t, I don’t know,” Trevor replies, running towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll call you!”
“Trevor wait!”
James drives in silence, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white. His shirt is soaked in blood, as is his jacket, but when Trevor asked him why he’s bloody he grunted and didn’t respond.
“What’s going on?” Trevor demands, voice cracking, getting angry with being in the dark. “Is Aleks okay? Is that-” a startling realization washing over him and his whole body goes cold. “-is that Aleks’ blood?”
James doesn’t reply and Trevor lets out a frustrated breath. Why does he even bother asking?
When they pull up to a rundown looking warehouse, James turns in his seat and says, “Has Aleks ever told you what he does for a living?”
Trevor thinks back to every conversation they’ve ever had; ever story and every joke and every intimate moment, and he can’t, for the life of him, remember Aleks ever mentioning a job.
“It, it never came up,” Trevor says slowly, looking down at his lap.
“Look, Aleks should be the one to tell you this, but since the dumbass…” James breaks off, breath catching, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to continue, “We’re not good people, Trevor.”
“What? What does that mean?” Trevor asks through numb lips.
“I’m not a good person. Brett isn’t. Joe. Lindsay. Aleks.” James’ voice breaks on Aleks’ name, but he presses on , “We’re not good people. The guy you met, the one you’re in love with…”
“I’m not…”
“Don’t lie to me,” James snaps, jabbing Trevor in the chest with his index finger. “Don’t fucking lie to me. He’s been lying to me for months, telling me he doesn’t love you, but I can see it in his eyes. Just like I can see it in yours. And you two may be in love, but he’s also been lying to you, too. We’re not good people.”
“What does that mean?” Trevor demands, wishing he had the strength to break James’ finger. Even if he did, he has a feeling James would just shoot him, and he doesn’t feel like getting shot tonight.
“We’re criminals, Trevor,” James exclaims, voice loud in the confines of the car. He sucks in deep breath and repeats, much quieter, “We’re criminals.”
Several emotions flutter through Trevor’s chest. Anger, worry, concern, fear; he wants to yell at James, accuse him of lying, but Trevor knows, just by looking into his eyes, that he’s not. He’s not lying; the guy he’s been dating for nearly three months is a criminal. One of the people the LSPD warns them to stay away from on the news. Men like Ramsey and Greene, and the dangerous men and women in their crews.
But Trevor remembers the way Aleks looked at him when he told him about meeting James. The way he said “If anything ever happened to you” before Trevor got off the train. The way he whispered those words in Russian, all those weeks ago; words that he still murmurs against his skin whenever they’re alone; words that he still won’t tell Trevor what they mean, but he has a feeling he knows exactly what they mean because Aleks said them tonight, in English, before his call cut out.
And yeah, when Aleks recovers from what happened to him (because Trevor refuses to believe this is his last night on earth), they’re going to have a lot to talk about, but right now he’s more concerned with seeing Aleks than anything else that has happened tonight.
He meets James’ eyes and says, “I don’t care.”
Surprise flits across his face, and James leans back. “What?”
“I don’t care. We’ll figure shit out at some point, but right now I just want to see him. Can I see him?”
Speechless, James nods and gets out of the car. Trevor follows, looking up at the warehouse, and draws in a deep breath. He has a feeling that, the moment he steps into that warehouse his life is going to change; he just hopes he’s ready for the fallout.
He steps inside.