Hidden Identity-A Trevor Philips Fanfiction

Chapter 19

(A/N: hey guys, been trying to write this chapter for daysss, but I've been exhausted. I have covid 😭 at least I have plenty of time off work to update though, hope you enjoy!)
I made sure to erase every trace of evidence off of Ron's computer. I powered off the monitor and leaned back in the chair, bringing my hands to my face. I didn't even know where to start the conversation with Trevor. I jumped as a heavy pounding on the door echoed through the household.
"RON!"
Came a muffled, yet stern voice.
Ron quickly bolted by me, unlocking the locks on the door and stepping aside to let Trevor in. The floor creaked as Trevor's heavy boots stepped along. He stopped in front of me and smiled.
"Whatcha doing, sweet cheeks?"
I blushed.
"Oh nothing, just searching the web a bit."
Now was definitely not the time to bring up my findings. My answer seemed to please him though, as he kissed my cheek and moved on to the next room, plopping down on the couch beside of Wade, who had rolled another joint and busted out the pipe.
"Hey Bryn?"
Ron walked up to me, a smile on his face.
"Wanna go get something to eat? I know you're not feeling it, but these munchies are eating me alive! And when Trevor gets hungry, boy he better have something right there or-"
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME RON?!"
Ron started to shake, causing me to giggle.
"N-nothing Trevor! We'll be back."
I followed Ron to his van and took position in the passenger seat. Ron drove in silence, until I finally spoke up.
"Why're you so afraid of Trevor? You tremble in fear like a trained dog that knows he shit on his owner's carpet."
Ron laughed at my comparison, and thought for a moment.
"Well, that's a good question, Bryn. Trevor can be scary. I mean, he's my friend and all, but one fuck up and I could end up as brain matter on his boot."
I slowly nodded.
"You're right I guess. But I don't think he has the heart to hurt either of you, deep down."
Ron sighed.
"I'd hope not. Say, Bryn, you seem pretty fond of the guy. Not judging or anything, but, what the hell do you see in him? I mean, he's like over double your age, is a psychopath, reeks of gasoline and beer-"
Ron nervously scanned the area around him, as if Trevor was by standing. He then turned back to me and continued on.
"I-I mean, you just seem like you'd have a different type. But then again, you dated Johnny so."
I chuckled.
"You're not wrong, Ron. I guess I don't really have a type. Or maybe I'm looking for a type to father me since my dad died."
Ron's face turned to stone, as if he stuck the wrong note at a first gig.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Bryn."
I shrugged.
"It's alright, my Uncle raised me and recently threw me over to one of my dads old friends, who I barely know but he adopted me, sort of. I never planned on running off nonetheless but Johnny kinda threw my plans for a loop, and well, I'm happy here in Sandy Shores. It's nice to have people around you who seem like the genuinely give a damn."
Ron softly smiled.
"I think that's why we all stayed here, Bryn. You're right, Trevor can be a bit crazy, but, he sure has a heart somewhere beneath that thick skin."
Ron went on to tell me the story about him and his wife separating, and how Wade's friends "disappeared." I listened intently, realizing how much I didn't know about these people, despite feeling like I've known them for ages. Before I knew it, we were at the Paleto Bay Cluckin' Bell. Ron checked his phone to see if Wade and Trevor had texted him what they wanted as I scanned the menu.
"Wade wants a number nine. Trevor wants a number six with extra dip."
"Gimme a number nine, just like his."
Ron cleared his throat and began his order.
"I'll have two number nines, a number nine large, a number six with extra dip, a number seven, two number forty fives, one with cheese, and a large soda."
Ron pulled around as he pulled out his wallet, handing the cashier the total and grabbing the order, handing it to me. I juggled all the items in my hands as we headed back to Sandy Shores. The vehicle was quiet again as I thought about my future conversation with Trevor.
"There's something bothering you."
Ron blurted out.
Damn, he's too good at reading people.
I sighed and nodded.
"A little bit."
"You know you can talk to me, we're friends."
Ron shot me a reassuring smile, which made me chuckle.
I decided to give in and vent to him a bit, telling him my life story, my findings, my upcoming conversation with Trevor. He listened intently, taking in all the information I just laid on him. I started to get nervous, but he finally spoke.
"I mean, he may not handle it well. But the longer you take to tell him the harder it will be on both of yall. I mean, this involves two of his best friends. Have you ever noticed that tattoo he has on his arm?"
I shook my head in shame. I was too busy looking at other things than his arm tattoo, but Ron didn't need to know those details.
"The RIP Michael tattoo. They both were his best friends. He thinks Michael is dead, and that Brad is in prison."
I nodded.
"That's gonna be hard to explain to him."
Ron sighed.
"Yeah, but trust me, in the long run, you'll be glad you told him. When y'all get home, sit him down, grab him a beer, or three, and just lay it on him. I'll be right across the street if shit goes south."
I chuckled. Ron was right though, the longer I put it off, the harder it would be.
"You're right, Buddha. Thanks."
Ron rolled his eyes at my comment as he parked the van, helping me carry the large order in his house as I mentally prepared myself for this upcoming conversation...