Ethan

After Ethan split from the crew, he walked slowly through the dark streets of Los Santos. It felt like time had stopped for a moment, even though the chaos around him hadn't settled yet. Just a few minutes had passed since he broke away, but those moments felt heavier, like they carried more meaning in his own world.

He found a quiet spot to change. Nothing fancy—he just wanted to shake off the feeling of the night. He pulled out some clothes from his bag, took his time switching them out, and wondered how life looked through his own eyes. His black jacket fit just right with the gray pants, matching his slow, steady steps. A low black cap sat on his forehead, hiding part of his face, making him blend in even more.

"Just a regular guy, nothing special… Maybe that's what keeps me going."

He muttered under his breath, as if he was only talking to himself. No need for flashy words or bright colors—he wasn't trying to stand out. Simplicity was just more... him. He pulled a hand from his jacket pocket, running it along his face slowly, like he was trying to figure himself out in that moment.

"The only thing you can change here is your clothes. The rest of the world… stays the same."

His voice was calm as he stepped onto the sidewalk. The streets were almost empty now, even though his mind was anything but quiet.

Los Santos was drowning in the night. The dim streetlights stretched long shadows across the cracked sidewalks and empty roads. The air was a little cold, carrying that mix of ocean breeze, cigarette smoke, and cheap food from the nearby stands.

Ethan walked without hurry, moving between sidewalks like he belonged to the night itself. The ground beneath him was uneven—some tiles were cracked, others covered in empty cans and plastic bags. With every step, he heard the soft tap of his shoes on the pavement, but he didn't care. Same way he didn't care about anything else around him.

Scattered across the streets, people drifted through their own little worlds. Couples walked hand in hand, whispering, laughing like nothing else mattered. Not too many people were out, just the leftovers of the city this late at night.

In the darker corners, the homeless huddled on the sidewalks. Some curled up under ragged blankets, others leaned against walls, staring into nothing with tired eyes. One was messing with an empty can, another barely holding onto a cigarette that had almost burned out. They were part of the city's backdrop, faces that no one really saw.

Suddenly, red and blue lights flickered against the walls. A police car rolled through the street, its cold gaze sweeping the area. Ethan didn't slow down. Didn't change his pace. Just kept walking like nothing was out of place. He glanced up, watching the car pass by—no fear, no curiosity. Nothing worth noticing here.

The car kept moving, fading into the darkness. And Ethan? He just kept walking. The night was the only thing worth paying attention to.

As he moved through the quiet streets of Los Santos, something caught his eye—a girl.

He wouldn't have cared, but there was something familiar about her. Enough to make him slow his steps, just a little. She was the same girl who tried to steal his car.

Her short white hair almost shimmered under the streetlights, a sharp contrast to her dark eyes. But there was no sharpness in them, no spark—just a quiet, faded look. She wore a dark, slightly worn-out jacket and ripped jeans, though it was hard to tell if that was fashion or just life.

He stopped a few steps away. Wasn't planning to say anything, but something in him told him to be sure. He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and, without looking directly at her, said in a calm voice:

"I wonder… do all thieves end up like this at the end of the night?"

It sounded more like he was talking to himself, but he said it loud enough for her to hear. She didn't react at first, just stood there. Then, after a few seconds, she slowly lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting his. No emotion. No surprise. Just that same quiet, unreadable stare.

"I thought you were still out here tryin' to jack cars, but you don't look like it."

Ethan reached into his pocket, pulling out some cash.

"Here. Take it." He held out the bills toward her.

Ethan ain't the type to save people or push himself into their lives, but he ain't completely indifferent either. What he did with the girl wasn't outta pity or some sense of responsibility—

He knows life don't change easy, that some things just stay the same. But sometimes, he figures he can do something small without it meaning much, without it shifting his path. The money he gave her? It wasn't about fixing her life, wasn't some kinda test. Just a simple gesture—, no expectations.

It wasn't much, but it was more than enough.

She looked at the money for a moment, like she was trying to decide if this was real. Then, without a word, she took it and slipped it into her pocket.

No thank you. No reaction. Just silence.

Anyway, this ain't gonna change anything in your life... but maybe it'll help a little." Ethan said in a calm voice, turning away and heading on his way, not really caring if she'd change her mind or even appreciate what he did. But deep down, he knew at least he tried

Ethan didn't stop walking, but he didn't speed up either. He didn't expect anything from her, but still, a part of him watched from the corner of his eye.

Then, out of nowhere, she moved. Fast. Like she'd suddenly realized time wasn't gonna wait for her. No hesitation, no second thoughts.

She headed straight for the street, her steps quick but steady—like she already knew exactly what she was gonna do.

Before Ethan could even process it, she was at a parked car. A black sedan.

He didn't move, just stood there, watching.

She reached for the handle—unlocked.

"Well… lucky you," Ethan muttered to himself, like he wasn't even surprised.

She slid inside, shut the door hard, and without missing a beat, started working under the steering column like someone who'd done this before. A few seconds, and the engine roared to life, rough and unexpected—like even the car was caught off guard.

Ethan didn't move. Didn't react. Just watched.

For a split second, she looked at him through the windshield. she glanced at Ethan for a second. No words, but that look said enough—something like gratitude. Her dark eyes caught the dim streetlight, like she knew something in her heart she never said.

Then, without warning, she hit the gas.

The tires screeched against the asphalt, a thin cloud of smoke rising as the car took off, cutting through the night like a ghost vanishing into the dark. The red taillights faded as she disappeared around the corner.

Ethan stood there. The cigarette still burned between his fingers. He didn't chase after her. Didn't even comment on it.

He took a slow drag, exhaled the smoke, then muttered under his breath:

"Well… should've seen that coming."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept walking.

---

A quiet side street in Los Santos, away from the main roads where the noise was less. The café's lighting was dim, the place nearly empty except for a tired-looking cashier and two customers in the corner, whispering.

Ethan sat by the window, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Thin wisps of steam curled into the cold night air. He held the cup between his hands, staring at the dark liquid, watching the reflections of the city lights dance on the surface.

Outside, the street was still. A police car rolled by, scanning the area, then kept going.

Like it was just another quiet moment in a long night, Ethan took a sip of his coffee. The bitterness felt familiar, like it was helping him sort through his thoughts. He stared at his own reflection in the window, but somehow, it didn't quite feel like he was looking at someone he knew.

"I always thought I was a calm person. Someone who likes to keep things under control… but is that really true?"

Another sip. The taste lingered.

"I don't like chaos, but I don't stop it either. I don't interfere. I don't impose. Does that mean I don't care about control? Or do I just see the use in letting things play out?"

His eyes drifted to the cashier, a guy who looked like he was just waiting for his shift to end.

"Some people wanna control everything. Set the rules, make the calls. And some people just go with the flow, don't fight the current. Me… I don't know where I fit."

He stirred his coffee slowly, watching the tiny swirls form and fade.

"I don't plan. I don't follow. I don't direct, but I don't drift either. So… what am I?"

The door creaked open, a cold breeze slipping in as another customer walked in. A middle-aged guy, ordering his coffee in silence.

Ethan took a deep breath, then smirked slightly—like he'd just realized something small but important.

"Maybe… I just move at my own pace. I don't go with the flow, but I don't swim against it either. I just… pick my own way, no need to announce it."

He raised his cup, took another sip, then placed it back down.

Outside, the city kept moving. The night never really stopped.

"And that's… enough for me."