Look inside your heart and tell me that when Aubrey Graham picks up from his immaculate marble floor the dress of his beloved, so chilly somewhere in the white lingerie she stole from Beyoncé and Jay's yacht, tell me that that scene doesn't split you in half. You're watching a man realize that he has everything to lose—because if he loses her, that's his heart.
He lets the dress fall and takes in a deep, sharp breath. His upper lip and nose scrunch up like a little pug dog. He puts his hands behind his head because he can't hold the one he loves. Now, he can only grip the coldest steel.
He's gonna shoot out all the lights and kill all the traitors. His face empties after killing Johnny Simmons, a.k.a. Young Judas, a.k.a. Gold Cross, a.k.a. Hair Gel John. Graham only has the emotional capacity to care for his beloved, and possibly for young women who have lost their way and now work at Hooters, and then only on lazy rainy Sunday mornings, when no birds sing.
When Graham sprays Tracksuit Goon and then peels back his ski mask, it's like the sun appearing on a day when the weather reporter said there could be no sun. And Aubrey Graham says to those weather reporters, "Even if there can be no sun, there can be me." He embraces his woman, fills his strong hands with her hair, inhales the rich pageant of its scent. They're finally home.