Kiss My Tears Away (Trevor Philips X Reader)

Chapter 2

A/N: Okay Chapter 2 time :)

(MENTIONS OF SUICIDE WARNINGG)

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You spent most of the ride gazing out the window of the truck as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You just wanted to die. Why did the world want you to suffer? You were so exhausted and consumed with your thoughts that you barely noticed when you arrived at a beat-up looking trailer park.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it, and wiped your eyes with your hand as the man opened the door for you. Gripping your broken arm, you slowly stepped out of the vehicle. You were at a small trailer. The dusty yard area was littered with garbage, tattered furniture, and... bullet casings? What the fuck?

"RON!" the man barked loudly to the trailer next door as he walked up the porch steps, "Get over here and bring the first aid kit!" 

You were already inside the trailer as you heard a very faint "Be right there!"

The trailer was horrifying. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. The floors were sticky and the furniture was pretty much destroyed It reeked of beer and something else you just couldn't put your finger on. You wondered how anyone could live comfortably in these conditions.

"Make yourself at home... uh, what did you say your name was again?" the man said to you, gesturing to the gross lumpy couch.

"it's Y/N," you responded meekly, as you obliged and took a seat.

"Name's Trevor. Trevor as in Trevor Philips Industries. You've probably heard of me," he declared in a prideful voice and a wicked smile.

You pursed your lips and shook your head, "Sorry. Never heard of it."

His smile faltered, "Oh..." Before he could continue, a nervous looking man wearing a boat hat and glasses barged in carrying a bulky first aid kit.

"Trevor! I came as fast as i could! Are you hurt?" He asked frantically, observing Trevor up and down for potential wounds or injuries.

"I'm fine. But our guest here has a broken arm and needs some TLC," he pointed to me as I rolled my eyes. I waved my good hand at Ron weakly. 

Ron turned to me, "Nice to meet you," you mustered a very small smile, "Here, let me get a good look at you."

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You zoned out for the most part as Ron assembled a cast on your wounded arm. The two men discussed something you assumed was work-related as Trevor smashed down a few beers, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts to care. About an hour passed before Ron rose to his feet and rubbed his hands together.

"Welp, you're all set, miss."

You cleared your throat, "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. I'm here to help," he grabbed his first aid kit and headed for the door. He turned to Trevor, "Okay, T, I'll talk to Chef about the next batch tomorrow." Trevor saluted his friend out with a beer in his hand. Then, It was just the two of you.

You inspected your cast as Trevor took another swing of his drink. You were impressed. It almost looked like an actual doctor in a hospital did it. Your attention was diverted when Trevor took a seat on the couch next to you, a bit too close for comfort. You moved away slightly.

"So," you started, "It's getting pretty late. I should probably head home..." You attempted to stand but Trevor landed a strong hand on the shoulder of your good arm to keep you seated. 

"Why? So you can find some pills in your medicine cabinet to kill yourself with while you still feel like you have enough balls to do it? Nuh uh, no way. You're staying here."

You gaped at him as he drank again, "Excuse me? You can't just keep me here. I'm an adult. I should be able to go home if I want to."

"Listen, sweetheart-"

'It's Y/N!" you corrected. 

"Whatever. If you pulled that stunt today and someone other than me happened to save you, you'd be locked up in a psych ward and still not be allowed to go home. At least I'm not going to treat you like some fucking freak. You're lucky I saved you."

Your blood boiled and tears burned in your eyes, "Oh, I'm so fucking lucky!" you shouted sarcastically, "Fuck you! I'm not lucky at all! I should be fucking dead! It's all I fucking wanted! Now I'm stuck in this miserable life where no one gives a fuck about me, I have no fucking job, and I'm stuck here in this fucking garbage can with some dick who is telling me I can't fucking leave! Does that sound fucking lucky to you?"

He got up abruptly and entered the next room that you assumed was the bedroom. You heard him rummaging through some drawers before he came back out to where you were. He stormed toward you and grabbed your good hand, placing a pistol in it.

"There. Fully loaded and ready to go. You want to kill yourself so bad? Do It! Take the fucking gun to your head and blow your fucking brains out all over the walls. Be my fucking guest!"

He stared at you, seething, as your eyes flickered between the gun and him.

"I-I-I can't do it here..." you stammered, " This is your home..."

"I don't give a fuck!" he said with an insane smile and a maniacal laugh, "It wouldn't be the first time this trailer has seen death. I'll clean up the mess! You have my blessing to end your fucking life."

"But-But-But-"

"But what? Here, let me help you," He grabbed your hand that was holding the gun and brought it up to your head, "Now, pull the trigger."

You began to shake, "...Why are you doing this?"

"I want to help you get what you want. You want to die so bad. I'm giving you your way out."

A few moments passed before you broke into sobs. You put the gun down on the couch. Trevor nodded.

"That's what I fucking thought," he grumbled, "If you were really hopeless, you'd be long gone by now." 

"I'm so sorry!" you wailed, "I'm so so sorry!"

You closed your eyes and let the tears fall. you felt a pair of strong arms envelop you in a comforting embrace. You fell into the warmth and continued to cry. The next thing you heard was Trevor's voice in a soft tone as he rubbed circles on your back.

"You're not hopeless."

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woo! well that's chapter 2 done pretty heavy stuff huh?

*wipes single tear drop* anyway chapter 3 soon!

Word Count: 1081