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The rooftop he's currently sitting on is higher than others he's been on, he notes. Swinging his legs just off the ledge, Ray looks down and sees hundreds of people, thousands of stories. He idly wonders if any of their lives have been affected by him, if he's killed a husband, a sister, a friend. Wonders why they continue to live in this shithole with a life expectancy of nothing, wonders how many people he sees will still be alive in a month.
Wonders how many of them he'll kill himself.
A small noise to his left startles him, and he whips around only to see Michael, who puts his hands up defensively.
"Chill dude, it's just me." Michael slowly hands him a Coke.
Ray breathes deeply as if to steady himself; accepts the Coke. "Thanks."
Michael lowers himself down next to Ray, looking out over the city. They sit in silence for a moment, each trying to figure out what the other is thinking. Michael's low voice startles him.
"What happened the other night?"
Straight to the chase then. Ray can't quite bring himself to meet Michael's eyes. He forces a short laugh. "Michael, for the last time, your mother doesn't love me any more than you and just because I'm not your real father doesn't mean you're being replac-"
"Cut the shit. You know what I mean." Ray clenches the fist that holds the unopened can. His hands always shake at the worst times. This doesn't go unnoticed.
"If you don't wanna talk about it.." Michael's voice trails off. Ray has always appreciated this about him; that he's pushy but not too pushy, that he gives Ray an out.
"Nah, its fine. Not talking's for pussies." He tries for a grin that doesn't quite make it to his eyes.
"Well, I'm all ears. Fire away." Ray closes his eyes for a moment. The Coke lays next to him, forgotten.
"The other night, during the heist, I-" he chokes on his words but tries to disguise it as a cough. Michael graciously says nothing, only entwines his pinky around Ray's and nudges him. Go on. He starts again.
"As you know, I'm generally on sniping duty during heists. And as you also know, Geoff put me on street protection because Gavin was sick." Ray is looking at the roof next them now. Who knew dead leaves and cigarette butts could be so interesting?! Certainly not Ray!
"And?"
"And I-" Ray isn't sure how to say this without sounding like a complete fucking idiot.
"I just, I dunno, never killed anyone up that close before." Ray's voice is straining for some semblance of normalcy, for nonchalance. Michael suddenly remembers that he has never seen Ray cry.
Michael is looking at him now, but Ray seems extremely interested in the spectacle that is his shaking hand being held by Michael's.
"Ray, look at me."
He does.
"I'm sorry."
Ray is a mess now, crying big, ugly tears that are blurring his vision of the city and of Michael sitting next to him. Michael says nothing else, but pulls Ray into his lap just the same. Ray can't bring himself to care, right now. His body is wracked with sobs and he can't, can't stop shaking, when the fuck did it get so cold out here-
Michael seems to understand there's not a lot he can say right now, and settles for rubbing small circles into the small of Ray's back, and making what he hopes are soothing noises. Jack is better at this stuff, he thinks, but Ray doesn't really trust Jack the way he trusts Michael.
Ray trusts the whole crew, of course, they're his family, but with Michael it's different. Their relationship is push and pull, give and take. They trust each other implicitly with their secrets, their family, their lives. Their hearts. When they have each other, they have everything.
Michael presses a kiss into the bridge of Ray's nose. Ray shudders. There are sirens in the distance.
They know they'll be alright.