Chapter Text
He falls.
Trevor wants to scream, to swear, to kick himself. He was so close to succeeding. So close to break those stupid four humans and their stupid little bond, so close to drag them to the bad place, so close to finally bring Michael down.
But he failed. Of course he did. That’s what he has always been, a failure.
Fuck those stupid humans and fuck Michael ! He hopes their little plan fails and they all end up back at the Bad Place. He hopes they get tortured for all eternity. He hopes he gets to torture them. He hopes he can see the look of agony on Michael’s face as they put him to retirement. It would serve him right.
He hates them ! He hates them ! He hates them !
He falls.
At first, he worries about the impact. He’s been falling for quite some time now, the moment he will crash into something won’t be fun. He is a demon, and demons can’t exactly be killed, so he will survive any impact. It doesn’t mean it will be pleasant.
Will he crash into the Bad Place ? That seems the most probable. He is certainly not being sent to the Good Place. The judge must have decided to send him back where he comes from, using a more expeditious method.
He can’t help but shudder when he thinks of the moment he will get to the Bad Place. He will have to tell Shauwn that he fucked up again. That Michael bested him. How humiliating is that ? Shauwn won’t be happy, that’s for sure. And Trevor will have to face the consequence of his failure.
If he is lucky, he will be trapped in a cocoon for a few bearimys. But Trevor is never lucky. He knows what Shawn has in store for demons that really piss him off. He has already been there.
The first time he set foot in the chamber, he hadn’t done anything wrong. But it was a rite of passage among demons, torturing the young ones to teach them discipline, obedience, and what happens when you fail.
Trevor stayed curled up on the floor, his tears mixing up with the pool of his own black blood. Michael came in and bandaged his wounds. He wasn’t supposed to do that, young demons were supposed to learn how to take care of their injuries themselves, they were supposed to learn that they couldn’t count on anyone, that they were alone.
Michael was older than Trevor but he always tagged along. Other demons mocked him for that, saying that he was weak. He told Trevor it was alright, they were always finding new things to mock about him, he didn’t care at that point. Trevor was young and naive but he knew Michael was lying.
They became friends. Michael called him brother. It was stupid. Demons don’t have families. They’re born alone and they get retired alone. They weren’t even the same species. And yet, Trevor called him brother too.
Michael said they would always be together, that he would never let him down. Trevor was young and stupid, and at the time, he believed him.
He has never stopped falling ever since.
The first thing they teach you in the Bad Place is that empathy is a curse that has to be beaten out of you. You can only think about yourself. You can’t afford to care for others, especially not the humans you are torturing.
Somehow, Michael didn’t get the memo. His damn bleeding squid heart was all too quick to feel pity for the poor souls sent to spend eternity in pain. That has always been his problem, caring for the pest, for the humans, for Trevor…
“Do you sometimes think that… what we are doing here is… bad ?” he asked him one day as they were perched at the top of a volcano, watching lava flowing down the mountain. They both knew there were humans trapped in the valley but they were too far to hear their screams.
“Of course not. Those humans were sent here because they are bad, so hurting them makes it right.” It’s how it works. Bad people deserve to be hurt, they have to be punished for their mistakes. Failure has consequences. That’s how it is. “And it’s fun !” He doesn’t believe it. He is just repeating words he heard from other demons. Maybe if he repeats them enough times it will become true.
Michael turned his head to look at him, scared blue eyes staring into his. “But I don’t find it fun.”
There were a lot of things Trevor wanted to say. And you think I do ? Just play pretend, until one day you don’t have to. It will get better with the experience, that’s what they all say ! Why can’t you just do what you’re told ? Why do you have to question everything and bring me into your existential crisis ? Don’t you think it’s useless anyway ? What do you want to do, run away ? There is nowhere to run ! You can’t run. We can’t.
Instead, he said, “You shouldn’t say that.”
They never knew who could be listening. Thinking something like that was unnatural for a demon. Saying it out loud was a terrible offence, a betrayal of your own nature, and it was heavily punished. Those thoughts were better kept quiet.
They were demons, anyway. They were made to cause pain, inflicting suffering was in their very essence. There was no running away from that. You couldn’t escape who you are.
Except that Michael did. Didn’t he ? Because he has always been so much better than all of them, always acted like he was different, like he was greater - or maybe it was just his way to deal with the constant rejection from the other demons, maybe he coped with their ostracization by further ostracizing himself. Of course, the demon that would betray his own kind could only be Michael.
He abandoned them all, for four stupid stinky humans. Four humans that weren’t even the best that humanity has to offer - which is already pathetic in itself. Four total losers with no redeeming qualities. And yet, he chose them over everyone and everything. He spat on a fucking promotion and was ready to be put to retirement for those four imbeciles.
“These four humans are all I care about in the universe. And there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that’s gonna come between me and them.”
What do they have that makes them so special ? What did he see in them that he never saw in anyone else, that he never saw in him ? What do they have more than him ?
A lot of things, he knows. They, for one, are humans. They have a heart that beats in their chest, and their bodies are warm, even in the afterlife. They are not a demon, a creature born of evil, and incapable of doing anything but destruction. For two, they have never tortured anyone, or at least not willingly. They tortured each other in the fake Good Place, but they always ended up becoming friends, no matter how many times they were rebooted. They never held a whip over the body of a crying man, ignoring his supplications as the leather tore through his flesh. They never had been at the other side of the whip, holding back their screams and tears, forcing themselves not to shake, knowing it would be way worse if they ever showed any sign of weakness.
Whatever… It’s not like he cares about what old Mickey thinks of him anyway. It’s been a long time since they thought of each other as brothers.
Michael had always expected too much of him. The looks of disappointment he gave Trevor every time the younger demon tortured a human were too much to bear. They were short and discreet, no one would have noticed them, no one except for him.
Trevor was not Michael. He wasn’t brave. He wasn’t the kind to question things. He just did what he was told.
Michael couldn’t help but disobey. One day a pair of demons came back from their break to realize the wounds of their victim had been bandaged while they were gone. Shawn asked the demons who did it. Michael was shaking. Trevor stood up and said it was him.
He couldn’t be the person Michael wanted him to be, but maybe he could keep him safe, or at least as safe as you can be in the Bad Place.
The punishment was bad. But there was something in Michael’s eyes when he took care of his beaten body afterwards that made it all worth it.
He could go through everything, as long as he had his brother by his side.
The memory leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He wishes he could grab his kid self by the shoulders and shake him. He wishes he could scream at him to wake up, to stop being played like a fucking fool, to realize how much of an idiot he is for thinking anyone could care about him. Even Michael, who cares for insignificant useless things like humans, couldn't bring himself to care for Trevor for long.
He’s been falling for a long time. He is starting to think he will never get to the Bad Place. He will never get anywhere. He is going to keep falling.
Nothing new, then.
Trevor tried. He really did. He tried to be the person Michael wanted him to be. One time, he brought a glass of water to a woman who had lava pour down her throat the whole day. It wasn’t much, just a glass of clean water, it wasn’t even cold - it is impossible to find something cold in the Bad Place. The woman gulped it down in a second and then stared at him. She didn’t say anything but her eyes shined and for a moment Trevor understood why Michael had been risking so much to help a human.
He told Michael what he did and he felt… proud. He felt proud of himself and he knew his brother would be too. Michael didn’t have the time to answer when Shawn summoned them. He found out about the water. He asked who did it.
Trevor expected silence to follow the question. A long, heavy silence before Trevor would raise his head, take a step and announce ‘that’s me, I did it, and I have no regret’. And Michael would look at him like he was mad but also with pride and it would all be alright. Maybe Michael would try to argue, plead for his sake, but Trevor would put a comforting hand on his shoulder and tell him ‘it will be alright, brother, I’ll see you next Bearimy’. He even imagined Michael offering himself up for him, claiming he did it. Of course, Trevor would never have let him take the fall, he would thank his brother but tell Shawn the truth.
He did not expect Michael to raise his head and say, “It’s Trevor. He did it.”
He screamed Michael’s name as demons dragged him to the chamber. Michael avoided his gaze.
Trevor passes a rageful hand in his hair and tugs at it. Why is he remembering all that shit ? None of this matters ! It didn’t matter then and it certainly doesn’t now !
Is this the punishment the Judge has chosen for him ? To fall for all of eternity, with nothing but his worst memories to keep him company. It would be fitting, for all he did.
Maybe the Judge simply forgot about him. She wouldn’t be the first one.
When Trevor got out of that chamber, a couple of bearimys later, he put himself together on his own. He had no brother, and no energy to spare for things as ridiculous as pity.
He did his job. And it turned out he was pretty good at it when he didn’t have a stinky squid to distract him. And if he tried hard enough, he could even pretend he enjoyed it.
It was never enough, though. He was never enough. For some reason, Michael was Shawn’s favorite. And it wasn’t fair. Michael didn’t even like what he was doing, but he was the one always getting complimented by Shawn, the one getting promotions while Trevor slaved away and got nothing but indifference in return.
It didn’t matter. Demons don’t need pathetic things like approval. They were fine on their own. Trevor was fine on his own.
He wonders if anyone down there has noticed his absence. If anyone is wondering where he is. If anyone cares.
They probably don’t. They are going on with their existences, forgetting they even knew him, while he falls through this dark endless void.
Michael got promoted to architect while Trevor stayed a mediocre demon working a mediocre job. It was good news : they would never have to see each other’s face again.
And then, one day, Michael called. He asked him to be a part of his weird fake Good Place torture experiment. Trevor considered telling him to fuck off, but he was bored and Michael promised him he could play the big boss, and that sounded less boring than whatever he was supposed to be doing at the moment.
Pretending to be in charge of The Bad Place was fun. Annoying the living hell out of Eleanor was super fun. There was no way he was going back to his normal job after that.
When Michael started the experiment over - because of course he failed the first one in less than three months - Trevor asked for a more prominent role. Every reboot he found new ways to torture those stupid little humans. He was so good at it that none of them noticed they were being tortured. Until one of them ineluctably figured it out and Michael rebooted them, and the game started over.
He gave Chidi old philosophy books that fell apart when he read them, painted a giant clown for Eleanor ‘cause I know you love them’, told Tahani her house was the second most beautiful castle he has ever seen, and got Jason a 10 hour long CD of traditional Tibetan music ‘in case you get homesick’.
One time he got Eleanor so drunk she started plucking flowers from the window box of a house that wasn’t hers, to make flower crowns, she said. Truth to be told, Trevor was a little wasted too so he didn’t complain much when she put a crown made half of orange lilies and half of dirt on his head. Each holding a bottle of tequila, they sat on the dock. He flabbily extended his arm into the void.
“Dude, what are you doing ?” Eleanor asked.
“Trying to push you in the lake.”
She chuckled. “I’m right over there, buddy.” She grabbed his hand and put it against her shoulder. He gave her a half-hearted push, she didn’t even move.
She took a sip of her bottle of tequila, her crown of yellow carnations falling a little on the back of her skull. “You know who taught me how to do these ? My banker ! Because my mom never taught me. She never gave a fork about me ! She kept forgetting I even existed !”
Trevor took a sip of his own bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Yeah, family sucks. They pretend they will always be there for you, but the moment they get bored of you they just give up on you and forget about you until they need a favor. Well, fork them !”
“I know, right ! In movies it’s always ‘family will have your back, no matter what’. But the truth is, family will steal every cent of your money and lose it all playing online poker and then find a way to blame you for it.”
“You know who will always have your back, and never turn on you, no matter what ?”
“Yourself ! In this forking world, you can only trust yourself.”
“I was going to say booze but yours works too.”
Eleanor raised her bottle. “Yeah, well, I’ll drink to that.”
He clinked his bottle against hers before gulping down whatever alcohol was left in it.
He didn’t remember how he got home that night. All that he knew was that he woke up on his bed, in the flat that Michael had given him in the neighborhood, still fully clothed but tucked in a blanket.
He wishes he was still sitting around that lake, drinking with Eleanor. He wishes he was still tucked in a blanket. It felt warm.
He is so cold right now. And that’s all he will ever be.
Forever falling. Forever cold.
Demons don’t need to breathe, to eat or to drink. They don’t die of old age. They don’t die of anything, actually.
So an infinite fall is… infinite.
An eternity of nothingness.
It is cold. So cold he can feel it in his bones.
He will never feel warm again. He will never feel anything other than cold. Forever.
He hopes he will crash into something, anything. He hopes the impact will break his bones, burst his skull, he hopes it will shatter his very essence in so many pieces that it will never reform itself. He hopes he will feel something, anything other than the excruciating cold and the freezing ache in his chest.
He falls.
He misses Tahani’s house, the two of them sitting in the boudoir around a cup of tea and plate of pastries.
“I’m sure my sister Kamilah will be making a speech at my funeral, she’ll turn the whole event about herself.”
Trevor was shoving as many pastries as he could in his mouth - human food was so much better than whatever shirt they had at the Bad Place, but still managed to mumble, “Siblings, am I right ?”
Tahani gave him an uncomfortable glance as he licked his fingers - he was going to steal as many of those pastries as he could before going back to the Bad Place, he promised himself. “I guess you are. Every time I did something, Kamilah had to do it and bested me.”
“Yeah, I get it. My brother was the same kind of dipshirt. And the worst is that I am much better at what I’m doing than he is ! But no one cares. My… hum, father, only cared about him. Never gave a shirt ‘bout me. And now he made this new thing, and it’s forking stupid, but everyone is like ‘this is visionary’. Everybody thinks he is a genius. And I’m just there.”
“Everyone has always had their eyes on Kamilah, and sometimes I feel like I’m just… some kind of spare. Like the second pair of Louboutin pumps you buy in case something happens to the first one. Even our parents only cared about her.”
“Well, fork her !” he exclaimed with more passion than he expected. “She’s no better than you ! And guess what ? She’s not there ! So you can mope around forever, turning over the memories you have of her, wondering when exactly it all went wrong and if you could have done something to fix it, if you somehow could have been enough. Or, you can live your life, or rather your death, not caring about that bench for any more second of eternity. She doesn’t deserve you wasting your time thinking about her !”
Tahani smiled. This was a terrible outcome. He was supposed to subtly torture her, not making her smile. Yet, it felt like a win. “Thank you, Trevor. You are right : fork her !” she said, giggling like a kid saying a curse for the first time. “If I may, fork your brother too.”
He smiled back. “Yeah. Fork those ash-holes.”
Okay, in retrospect maybe he hadn’t been that good at torturing Tahani. But he really did a number on Chidi.
“Sooo, you know how to paint, right ?”
Chidi blinked, surprised by the question. “Yes, I do. But I–”
“Great ! You need to teach me.”
“I was a philosophy professor. I’ve never taught art.”
“Come on ! I know you’ll be great. I’m sure you’re some kind of art prodigy or something. You lived in Paris, yeah ? Must have been to fancy museums.” He added, with the worst French accent he could manage, “Ett mangere dess croissants.”
“You know, every word coming out of your mouth sounds like French to me except for whatever was that last sentence.”
Trevor grinned. That smartash. “Whatever. You can help me, right ?”
“I guess I can. What do you want to paint ?”
Here started the fun. “I wanna make a giant clown painting for Eleanor.”
Chidi froze, like a deer in headlights. “What ? Why ?”
“Because she likes clowns ? She got them everywhere in her house.”
The look on Chidi’s face was priceless. “Right… Right…”
Trevor did his best to play dumb. “Is there a problem ?”
“A problem ? Why would you think there is a problem ? Janet ! Can you give us two easels please ? And painting supplies ?”
She did, providing them with an entire art studio before disappearing.
Trevor looked at the dozens of paintbrushes. “There are so many of them ! Which one is the best ?”
“It really depends on what you need, a larger brush will…” Chidi went on a rant about paint brushes that frankly Trevor only half listened to.
“I would never know which one to pick. Well, you’re the expert. Why don’t you choose for me ?”
The face Chidi made was worth everything. “I think I need a minute. To think of the better option.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need. In the meantime, can you help me pick up the colours ?”
“Ooh, my stomach…”
In the end, they managed to finish that damn painting. It involved much more bursts of laughter and less groans of pain than Trevor expected, but he must admit he was very satisfied with the whole process. He felt proud, only because he thought of how much Eleanor was going to hate it, it had nothing to do with enjoying creating something by himself. Nothing.
“This is terrifying,” Chidi said as he looked at the painting.
“It’s perfect !”
“It feels like his eyes are staring right into my soul.”
“I know, right ?”
“Was it really the first time you held a paintbrush ?”
It was. He never had created something before. Demons are made to destroy, not to create.
The paint in his hair had fallen down the next morning but the one under his fingernails stayed for a long time.
He wishes he still had paint under his fingernails.
It’s a stupid thought. A childish one. But he is falling through an infinite void for all of eternity so maybe he just gets to be childish. There is no one to witness his pathetic agony. And there will never be anymore.
He wonders if someone, anyone, anywhere, is thinking about him. Probably not. He was not exactly what you can call worth remembering.
By all odds, the humans already forgot about him. Maybe Michael did too.
The last time he saw him, they were on the Bridge before the Judge flung him into the void. Did she do that to Michael too ? Or is it just Trevor who got a special treatment ?
He screams, just to hear his own voice. The only voice he will ever hear forever. If he had been asked with whom he would be ready to spend eternity, he certainly wouldn’t have answered himself.
Well, he didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.
He screams. And he knows it’s useless, he knows no one can hear him, and even if someone could they wouldn’t care, but still, he screams. Just in case.
Doing something stupid and bound to fail just because you can. Maybe the humans rubbed off on him more than he thought.
He wonders where they are, now. Did they make it to the Good Place ? Or are they getting tortured in the Bad Place ? Or maybe they’re still stuck on Earth, enjoying their miserable little lives.
He hopes it’s the latter.
Earth isn’t that bad. Actually, when he went he found it… nice. Nicer than the Bad Place, but isn’t everywhere better than Hell ?
He liked being on Earth, for the short time he was there. It was fun. He wishes he had been given more time. He had so many great ideas to torture the group.
The truth is, as pathetic as it sounds, he misses them. And it’s so fucking stupid, to miss the humans that he helped torture, the humans that hated him, that certainly don’t miss him. But he does.
Maybe he has always been stupid. It seems to be a light motive in his existence.
He has all of eternity to ponder on that.
In some reboots, he managed to get so close to the humans that they told him their little secrets.
“So, you’re not a monk ?”
“No, dawg, I’m a DJ !”
“Sounds cool ! Why don’t you share your music with us ?”
Given the desperate looks on Tahani and Eleanor’s face, he said the right thing.
Jason turned on the stereo with a big smile on his face and some kind of electronic music echoed in the room. It sounded just like what they used at the Bad Place to torture Mozart. Eleanor looked like she was about to strangle him. It was perfect.
“Yo, homie, show me your moves !”
It took a second for Trevor to realize Jason was talking to him, and another one before he took a step towards the dancefloor. He had never exactly danced before, but he figured he could use that to his advantage. Maybe he could dance so badly it would annoy Jason.
It did not annoy Jason.
“Wow, homie ! I’ve never seen someone move like you. It’s like you really feel the music in your heart !”
Really ? He continued to dance. He was terrible but he did it like he did with everything : with pride and overconfidence.
“You hear that, Eleanor ?” he said, turning to her. “I’m a dance genius.”
She let out an amused sigh. “You are terrible, that’s what you are.”
“Think you can do better, doll face ?”
“No. I know I can.”
She started to dance and he must admit that she looked way better at it than him. She turned to Tahani, “Come on, babe ! It’s fun.”
Tahani shook her head but Eleanor insisted.
Trevor smirked. They were torturing each other again.
Tahani ended up doing some fancy dance moves that were definitely not appropriate for the kind of music that was playing. Eleanor gave her a thumbs up and she smiled back.
Jason was dragging Chidi on the dancefloor. “I don’t know how to dance,” he protested.
“Everybody knows how to dance, dawg. It’s in your genes.”
Chidi made some awkward moves that were completely out of sync with the music. To be fair, it was kinda hard not to be out of sync considering the music. Eleanor grabbed his hands and started to dance with him while Jason was doing… whatever he was doing.
Trevor spun on himself and smiled. Michael was right, this kind of torture was so much more fun.
He wishes he was there right now.
He wishes he was listening to Jason’s horrible music.
He wishes he had paint under his fingernails and a flower crown on his head and he was drinking tea with Tahani.
He wishes he was somewhere, anywhere but here. But if he was honest, he wishes he was with them.
He wishes he was with Michael, sitting at the top of a volcano, before everything went to shit. Things have never been easy in the Bad Place, but with Michael they were easier.
He misses his brother.
He misses the humans.
Guess he would be ashamed if he wasn’t feeling so numb.
What’s the point of shame when you’re sentenced to spend eternity alone ?
Eternity.
It’s a hell of long time.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been falling, it’s not like he kept track. Maybe it’s been a minute, or a millennia. It doesn’t matter either way, the worst is still to come.
It will never stop.
He can feel his mind unraveling, shreds of himself being swallowed by the dark emptiness.
Maybe this won’t go on forever.
Maybe his essence will end up fading away completely, torn apart by loneliness, devoured by the cold abyss.
Maybe he will just… disappear, like he never even existed in the first place.
He falls.
He clings to those memories. Of pastries, and flowers, and alcohol. Of bad music and paint. Of blue eyes. He clings to them like a lifeline.
He doesn’t want to forget. He doesn’t want to forget them, even though they’ve forgotten him.
He wonders if there is a reality, on some plane of existence, where he is with them. Where the Brainy Bunch is hanging out at some bar, Jason excitedly showing Tahani and Janet how to eat jalapenos poppers while Chidi and Eleanor are busy making goo goo eyes at each other and Michael is telling a joke only he seems to understand, and Trevor is making sarcastic comments while stealing some nachos from Eleanor’s plate, and they wouldn’t mind, and they would care.
Nah. That’s stupid. He is a wretched creature, the scum of hell. There is no world, no universe where he gets a happy ending. He doesn’t deserve one. There is no one who cares about him. There hasn’t been for a long, long time.
In the end, he has always been alone. The real change is that now he is cold in addition.
He falls.
It is all that he deserves.
He falls.
And no one in the universe cares.
He falls.
He is alone, truly alone.
He falls.
Until he doesn’t.