Misc.

breaking bad 1

"jesse. i'm not letting you leave here until you tell me what's going on." walt said, and it wasn't a statement. it was an order. jesse had heard him use the same tone with gus, people he'd done business with. nothing got past that tone. it sparked something inside the boy's chest, and it made him frustrated; grounded him. 

the anger brought him back down to earth.

"no. why should i even tell you? it's not like you care."

"if i didn't care, would i have let you into my house?"

"maybe if you were concerned there was someone outside watching us." jesse protested, his voice raising. he stood, refusing to let walter get the upper hand. he wasn't allowed to. not this time. 

"don't be ridiculous. just talk to me. tell me what's going on." walter reiterated, extending an arm towards the boy.

"no! don't fucking touch me man."

"okay, okay, i won't. i won't touch you, jesse, but you need to tell me what's going on. you're acting irrational."

"irrational? what the fuck do you mean "irrational"?"

"you come here to my own house, without telling me, showing up have some- some sort of breakdown- then you don't say anything, you don't move, like a robot that's been turned off, and now you're yelling at me! what, are you high?"

"no! no i'm not fucking high! can you stop assuming i'm always high?" jesse yelled, backing up to the wall. 

"then why did you come here?" walter asked, not yelling, but with a firm, intentional voice.

"i should have just stayed home. should've just done it. i should have just done it, i should have...fuck man i should.." jesse said, more to himself than walter, descending back into the spiral he'd been in when he first arrived. fresh tears broke from his eyes and he started gasping for breath again.

"done what, jesse?" walter asked.

"i should have just done it! i should have just pulled the trigger, i should have just finished everything. every fucking thing. it would be so much easier," the boy sobbed hysterically, "if i wasn't here anymore- wasn't here to fuck up your business, any business- if i had never been here to begin with none of this shit would have ever happened. it's all my fault man, it's all my fault and i don't deserve to fucking be here anymore. don't you get it? mr. white? don't you get it?" jesse cried, sinking down the wall and curling up in a ball on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

walter was without words. he stared at jesse, and the only sound in the house was crying. 

"i- i don't get it, jesse, you're right, i don't get it, but...that doesn't mean-" walt began to reply after a minute, choosing his words carefully. "that doesn't mean this is- that you don't deserve to be here. jesse, hey, look at me?" he asked softly, kneeling down, once more placing his hand on the boy's knee. this time he didn't retract. tearful eyes, red and watery glanced up at him. "thank you for coming here. thank you so much. i'm so glad you came here instead of doing...whatever it was that you were planning on doing, ok? look, none of this is your fault, and certainly none of it is even near worthy of hurting yourself in any way, shape, or form. do you understand me?" 

jesse lapsed once more into silence, like he was going through some sort of cycle.

"jesse. look at me. do you understand?" walter asked, his voice serious.

jesse nodded, and sniffled, rubbing his nose. 

"now, if it's alright with you," walter said, his voice calm and kind once more, "i'm going to politely invite you to stay the night. i don't want you alone in case you hurt yourself- and the last thing i want right now, jesse, is for you to hurt yourself. ok? the couch pulls out into a bed, i'll get you some blankets. are you ok with that?" 

jesse nodded once more, returning to normal. life had no point. he was just trecking through miles of sludge, while god shot at him point blank with a semi-automatic that had an infinite amount of bullets, and he wouldn't have the pleasure of dying until every last inch of him had been shot away. he was in pain, and scared, and worried about everything all of the time. 

walter returned from his bedroom a few moments later with a big looking blanket. 

"here- you can use this one. it's weighted. we uh, we bought it for skyler when she was pregnant with junior. it's supposed to help calm nerves or whatever. we sleep with it in the winter, it's pretty nice. i thought it might help you. if you want, that is." walter offered. 

slowly, jesse got back up and cleared his throat. 

"that's fine. thanks." he said quietly, taking it from walter and shuffling over to the couch, kicking off his shoes. 

they pulled out the hide-a-bed and jesse fell onto the cot, tugging the blanket over him.

"i'll leave your water right here next to the couch, feel free to get some more from the sink. jesse, let me know, alright, if you need anything at all. trust me. you're safe here, and i promise things are going to be okay." walter reassured before heading back down the hall. his bedroom door clicked and jesse was left alone in the living room, staring up at the ceiling, with only the quiet noises of the house to keep him company. 

and walter was right. the blanket was heavy and comfortable, draped over him like a hug. it felt like the weight of the world was laying on top of him, but for a blissful, fleeting moment, it felt nice. tolerable. 

the ticking of the clock and the soft humming of some appliance in the kitchen sang jesse to sleep, assuring him that he was in fact safe here. as he drifted off, the spell of being in a crisis began to lift, and for the first time in a long time, jesse pinkman's head was clear. before sleep took him under, before the world turned into a bliss of nothingness and comfort, jesse thought that perhaps, just maybe, things would indeed be ok. 

he knew hope was a dangerous thing, more dangerous than when he was holding a gun to his head mere hours earlier, but what was he if not familiar with danger.