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He couldn’t have picked a worse spot for his last heist. A shitty small town in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere-ville USA had never been Michael’s idea of a triumphant last hoorah. Even the weather refuses to cooperate; snowflakes drift past his face to settle lightly on the ground, and the wind whistles in the night.
He exhales, his breath fanning out in a smokelike cloud. It makes him itch for a cigarette. And for a warmer climate. He always thought he’d go somewhere in the south once he retired. Maybe now he’d have a chance.
Reaching into his pocket, Michael pulls out a cigarette. He brings it to his lips to light it, his hands shaking all the way. Tomorrow is his way out. Tomorrow he’ll be free to live like everyone else. At least he will be as long as Davey keeps his word and doesn't shoot him. He feels inside his pocket again, searching for the note he wrote for his family. He clenches his fist around it like a lifeline. Amanda and the kids are in San Andreas by now, or at least they should be. The uncertainty terrifies him more than anything.
“Aren’t you the one who always yells at me for not sleeping the night before a job?” The voice makes Michael jump, and he only relaxes slightly when he realizes it’s Trevor.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Michael sighs, taking a drag of his cigarette to avoid saying more.
Trevor leans on the rail next to him. Wordlessly, Michael hands him the cigarette.
“Wanna fuck? Always makes me tired,” Trevor says. On instinct, Michael checks behind him to make sure no one’s listening. The door remains firmly closed, and the motel room is pitch black.
“Never before a job,” he replies tightly.
“Right, right,” Trevor snarks back at him, “We wouldn’t want you to get the yips.”
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, T.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It was only a… thoughtful suggestion.”
Silence again as Trevor hands the cigarette back to Michael. The snowfall turns to a soft flurry, and stars begin to peek out from behind the clouds. Michael wonders if this is the last time he’ll see them.
“This is only the beginning, Mikey,” Trevor says. “We get this score and we can move on to the big one!”
“One job at a time. I need you focused for tomorrow.” Michael swallows hard. He’s lied to Trevor a thousand times, and only now has it ever felt wrong. He’s leading his best friend, one step at a time, toward the grave. The life that Trevor pictures, one of them doing heists forever, does not exist. It can’t exist.
The worst part is he doesn’t even feel that guilty about it. He thinks about Jimmy, and Tracey, and how badly he wants them to get out of this life. And maybe a small part of him thinks about how bad he wants to get out of this life.
“You need to open your mind to the possibilities! Trevor, Michael, and Brad, terrorizing the midwest, robbing any bank we can find!”
“Big dreams you’ve got there, T.”
Trevor ignores him, and continues his fantasy. “Once we’ve bled this place dry, we’ll head west, and then–” he pauses, gesturing grandly with his hands, “we’ll hit the big one. The Union Depository, just like we always talked about.”
Trevor talks like he has a future, and Michael doesn’t have the heart to correct him. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t have the balls to do it.
“A lot’s changed since the old days,” he says instead. “I’ve got a wife, and kids. I’ve got a life now.”
Trevor’s face sours like it always does when Michael mentions his family. “It almost sounds like you’re giving up.”
He freezes, his heart plummeting into his stomach.
Trevor stands fully to look at him. “You’re not giving up, are you?” he asks coldly.
Michael meets his gaze. Surprisingly, Trevor doesn’t look angry. He looks hurt, and maybe a little scared. Michael can’t remember the last time he’s seen him like this.
He puts his hand on Trevor’s shoulder and says, “I’m not going anywhere.” He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t even blink. After a few moments, Trevor looks away, satisfied.
“That’s what I like to hear, sugartits,” he says. Then he yawns loudly and stretches his arms over his head. “I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll– uh– see you in the morning.”
Michael waits until he hears the door close behind him to exhale. His cigarette is nearly gone now, but he takes one last drag anyway before putting it out on the railing. The Michael that Trevor knows is long gone, and for a while he has felt like an actor playing an old version of himself.
But it won’t be like this for much longer. Tomorrow, one way or another, Michael Townley will die. And if everything goes to plan, Trevor Philips will too. He swallows the lump in his throat. This is his chance at a better life. And it’s a chance he doesn’t plan on wasting.