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He was a human whirlwind, the type of person who came in, destroyed everything and then disappeared again leaving you to pick up whatever pieces were left. And Michael loved him.
We all know a human whirlwind. Most of us are too tired, too tied down to keep picking up the pieces but Michael always did, maybe that was the problem.
"What have you done, Trevor?"
He stood in the doorway, slick with blood across his shirt, smeared across his face and all over his hands. He breathed heavily, his wild eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance as if he couldn't hear Michael at all.
Michael repeated himself and he blinked, his dark eyes flicked up to meet the other’s.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly in an almost whisper. Blood trickled from his lip, this time his own, Michael could see where the cut was.
There was a noise from upstairs, maybe a stirring and quickly, Michael closed the front door behind them so that they both stood outside in the cool Los Santos night air. "I gotta get you home," Michael hissed urgently, "where's your car?"
"Mikey-" he started but Micahel held his hand up to silence him. He couldn't risk anyone inside hearing or seeing them.
Trevor’s beat up and scratched car was parked at the end of the driveway, Michael grabbed him by the waist and marched him towards it. When Michael felt his weight against his own, he knew it was a mistake. His heart jolted, like it hadn't been beating before and now it suddenly was. That's how it always felt around him. This whirlwind destroyed everything, but not him. This whirlwind forced air into Michael’s lungs so he could breathe. He only felt this way with Trevor.
He collapsed into the passenger seat, his head hung and shadows masked his face. The car smelled like cigarettes, copper and woodland.
"Did you hurt someone... again?" Michael asked him cautiously, though he knew the answer, he always did. It took Trevor a few moments before he nodded - a guilty nod, a nod that told Michael that he knew that he’d done wrong. It wasn't like before, it wasn't fun like when they were younger, getting into fights, stealing from convenience stores and gas stations without a care in the world, without caring who got hurt. The thing was, now they were older, there were people who got hurt.
"What did you do with them?" Micheal asked, sounding calm and maybe he was. This wasn’t the first time he had cleaned up after Trevor, picked up the pieces and made everything better and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
"He's still in my apartment." Trevor replied.
They drove in silence. His apartment was a good twenty minutes out of town, surrounded by rundown trailers and crack dens. Michael has offered to help him get somewhere in the city but he refused. He said he couldn't face being so close to Michael, not now. Maybe he was right, but it didn't stop Michael sometimes driving by at night, when he couldn't sleep and just looking to see whether the light was on in Trevor’s apartment. Micahel would pull in across the street outside a diner and watch. If the light was on, it took all of his willpower for him to just stay put and not go over there, go inside to check that he was okay, to wrap his arms around Trevor and tell him that he was wrong this time - Michael hated the mess they were in now and maybe most of it was his fault. He smelled bad nowadays, like alcohol, sweat and dirt but it wouldn't stop Micahel pressing his head into Trevor's chest and begging for forgiveness, wouldn't stop him from pressing his lips to his as if that could make any of it better.
The door was ajar when they got there. The body of a young man lay on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles and cans. Blood surrounded him.
When Michael reached down and touched him, he was stiff and cold. His skin was tinged blue.
"Do you have trash bags?" He asked Trevor. Trevor stood by the doorway, looking at the scene before them as if it was the first time he had seen it.
"Ye-yeah." He replied and went into the kitchenette and began rifling through cupboards.
As Micahel rolled the body over, a wave of sickness was cast over him.
"Jesus T, he's just a kid."
"He's 21." Trevor shot back, handing him a roll of trash bags. Michael’s hand was shaking as he took it.
The boy looked young, eyes closed, skin looked like it had been soft, lips full, hair a fawn colour. He was naked apart from underwear. His torso looked slim, skin pale.
He looked like Micahel’s boy had done when he was in high school, before he got lazy and got into pot.
"He's 21." Trevor repeated. "He works at a bar I go to... Worked..."
Michael’s light eyes looked back up at Trevor, his face had changed as his eyes drank in what was before him. He looked scared. "His name's Hunter."
Suddenly, it felt like Michael had been slapped. He blinked up at Trevor. "When did you ever care about names? When did you ever stop to ask a name?"
He shrugged, turning away to sit on the bed, his back to Michael now.
It was true. Trevor liked to fuck, he fucked lots of different people. Michael knew that, always had done. But it was fucking. Sex for Trevor was like an itch that needed to be scratched and so he scratched until the skin was raw. When they had sex it was different; the urge was there, of course, but it was different. They fucked because they had to, because without it they'd go insane. Without the smell of him all over Michael, his taste still pertinent on his tongue, he knew he'd go crazy.
"So what is this?" Michael asked coldly, he could feel the rage stirring, waking and rising like an angry cobra, hissing and spitting at a predator. He gestured at the kid lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor or Trevor's apartment, "is this your boyfriend?"
Trevor still had his back to Michael. He'd lit up a cigarette. Michael watched him exhale a large cloud of smoke. "I don't know, Mikey." He replied.
Micahel stood up. The knees of his jeans now had Hunter's blood soaked into them. "You killed your boyfriend and now what? You want me to help you get rid of the body?" He didn't want to raise my voice too loud but couldn't help it and his voice cracked on the word 'boyfriend'.
Trevor turned to look at him. His eyes glazed but there was a hint of a smirk playing across his bloodied lips, "What's wrong, are you jealous?"
"You fuck!" Michael snapped, "you fucking fuck!" He stormed across the room, away from Trevor and his boyfriend. "So what is this? You bring me out here to help you clean up another fucking mess and you wanna rub my fucking face in it?!"
"That's rich coming from you," Trevor growled. He stood up. He'd always been the taller of the two, shoulders broader, more muscle."You're allowed to play happy families. You’re allowed to fuck your wife or whatever whore you met in the bar but I can't do shit. I gotta hide out here with all the other fucking rejects and pretend I don't exist until whenever you decide you're gonna come out here because you want me to suck your dick!"
"I didn't say that" Michael spat, breathing heavily. "You know I don't fuck her. She fucks everyone else in this town - the kid’s teachers, the mailman, her personal goddamn trainer... I can't do it and you know I can't. I let you do what you want, T. I let you do who you want. But I... I..."
Trevor stubbed his cigarette out on the wall. His smirk was gone.
"I get lonely, Michael." He said matter-of-factly. "I get lonely and I need someone. Sometimes it's just for one night, sometimes more. Hunter was more," he gestured at the kid on the floor, "he looked at me like you used to... And I needed someone. But he's not you. I could fuck everyone in this town and it wouldn't be the same as what I have with you."
Michael inhaled deeply and turned away from him. He didn't ask to be woken up at 2am to be brought out here for Trevor to guilt trip him.
"That's the thing, Mikey, that's the fucking thing!" Trevor exclaimed, "you can have me whenever you want! You think I don't know you come out here and watch me sometimes? You think I don't know? You can come out here whenever you want and you can have me..! But I can't have you! And it drives me fucking crazier Mikey!"
He hit the wall and Michael turned back to look at him, alarmed. He realised that the glazed look in his eyes were tears and he'd let them spill down his cracked cheeks. He glared at Michael.
"I'm yours and you know it!" He snapped, "you bitch and whine about cleaning up after me but it's the only way I can get you out here."
"So what? You killed an innocent kid all to get me here so you can call me what? A bad lover?" Michael scoffed.
Trevor waved his hand, waving the idea away like it was a fly buzzing in his face. "No. No." He said, " Hunter was an accident. He was drunk and I was high... We fucked and he... He said he wanted money. He said if I wanted to continue seeing him, I have to pay - I oughta be grateful that someone like him would even consider anyone like me... We had a fight... I- I was high Mikey. I don't remember what happened. I didn't want to hurt him but when I said no, he just went crazy - hitting and trying to choke me."
Now he mentioned it, he could see the bruising across his throat and the busted lip suddenly made sense. Fresh, hot tears of frustration spilled out of his eyes and he wiped them away angrily, smudging more blood across his face.
"I never meant to hurt him, Mikey. I swear."
"Okay," Michael found myself breathing. He went to Trevor and wrapped his arms around his waist. He rested his head on Michael’s shoulder and he could feel him shaking.
"I swear Mikey." He repeated. "I'm just so lonely... I miss you. I need you."
"I know, T. I know. We'll get this cleaned up and everything will be okay."
They wrapped Hunter's body up in the trash bags. His car was parked round back and Michael drove it to the cliff where he pushed it off the edge, watching it disappear into the sea. When he got back, Trevor had gotten rid of the blood. He was sitting on the bed, smoking again.
"It's done." Michael told him.
He nodded.
"You can't keep doing this, you know?"
"It was an accident!" He said snappily, smoke coming out of his mouth with each word.
"Regardless." Michael said. He sat down heavily next to him. "I don't want it to be this way either, T. It's fucked up and I can't change that."
"I know," Trevor said emotionlessly, "you won't leave her for me. You won't risk losing the kids. I know."
Micahel sighed. He wished it was different. Things could have been so different.