Trevor Phillips Angst Hcs

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• Trevor has many outbursts, when he does, he’s usually clinging onto your leg while crying, apologising for ever dating you and getting snot all over your pants and the floor.

“I’m so sorry..” Trevor sobbed loudly, holding on to your leg tightly while he laid on the floor, his bottom lip shuddering as he stared up at you. “Just leave me, I don’t deserve this.” Trevor whined, rubbing his face into the bottom of your pants as his shoulders shook.

• Trevor is rarely ever sober, so when you offer to drive for him, he’ll get angry and refuse, driving more recklessly than usual to get back at you.

Trevor grinned wickedly, gripping the steering wheel as he swung it to the left, just barely missing the edge of a giant cliff. “Oh sorry, am I bothering you?” Trevor eyed you, watching as you held onto your leather seat tightly. He didn’t care one bit about your wellbeing right now, his rage blinding his thoughts.

• Trevor hates when people try to “fix him” as he believes he’s gone too far with no redemption. So whenever you disagree to try to change his mind about something, he assumes you’re attempting to make him a good person and gets all pissy.

“So I shouldn’t kill him? Pfft, why? He’s fucked me over plenty of times.” Trevor rolled his eyes, leaning against his grimy counter, his hand gripped the edge as he looking at you, wires connecting in his head. Trevor frowned, stepping towards you angrily. “Oh ho ho, I get it, you think I should slow down on killing people, do you?” Trevor spat, a disgusted look on his face.

• You might come home one day to find Trevor unconscious on the floor, you’re unsure if he’s overdosed, dead, or just sleeping.

You opened the door to the trailer, stepping inside before noticing Trevor laying on the floor in front of you. You shuddered, seeing the cockroaches zoom around him. Trevor’s chest was barely moving as you crouched down to check his pulse. You took a deep breath, holding it in as you held your fingers on his wrist.

• If Trevor notices a man staring you up, down, right, left, and centre, don’t be surprised if a rotting head ended up in your mailbox.

“Did you see the gift I left for you in the bedroom?” Trevor spoke as he chewed on his week old granola bar. You curiously stepped into the bedroom, your heart sinking at the sight of a man’s decapitated head. The blood was pooling onto the sheets, flies landing and going off the grey skin. Its eyes were rolled back, jaw drooping, and as you stared at it more you wanted to throw up. “Do you like it or not?” Trevor asked casually, his calmness made you uneasy.

Cross-posted on ao3 (JansBread)