“When Jesse Pinkman can't stay away." part 5
pairing: Jesse Pinkman x F!Reader
genre: angst, hurt/comfort
contains: emotional vulnerability, crying, comfort, family struggles, Alzheimer's/dementia, financial hardship, Jesse being hopelessly in love
warnings: mentions of drug use, methamphetamine
Autumn always left Albuquerque strangely quiet in the late afternoon. The sun was already beginning to disappear behind the city's lower buildings, tinting the sky with shades of orange that slowly gave way to an increasingly colder blue. The wind blew steadily through the nearly empty streets, carrying dry leaves that scratched across the asphalt before disappearing onto the sidewalk. Jesse remained standing across the street, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, staring at the house in front of him as if he expected it to give him some kind of answer.
It was an ordinary house. Small, but simple. The light-colored paint was already beginning to show signs of age. The grass in the yard had lost the intense green it had a few months ago, now covered in small yellowish patches brought on by the cold. A tall tree occupied much of the front of the house, its branches swaying slowly as dry leaves detached one by one, spinning through the air before touching the ground.
He didn't know how long he'd been standing there. Five minutes. Maybe fifteen. Maybe longer. He was too lost in his thoughts to know. But no matter how much time passed, his gaze remained fixed on the porch. The front door that remained closed. The half-open windows where the wind slipped through, gently moving the curtains. He looked at every detail, as if, somehow, staring at that house was easier than looking at his own life.
The past few weeks had continued exactly as they always did. Or almost. The messages never stopped, always picking up their rhythm again even after a tiring day. Completely pointless conversations about books, music, strange library patrons, stray dogs, and whatever else happened to come up between one reply and the next. Truthfully, they didn't even care much about the subject. It was all about the exchange of words.
Sometimes he showed up at the library saying he wanted to return a book. Other times, he'd make up some excuse about needing another one. Any excuse would do, as long as it guaranteed him a few minutes of hearing her voice. It was ridiculous, because he knew exactly what he was doing. And worse... he knew why he was doing it.
Walter still wouldn't leave his head.
The question seemed to have taken root somewhere inside him. Haunting him every day, settling uneasily in his chest. Does she know who you are? Does she know what you do? Does she know where the money you spend comes from? Does she know the smell that clings to your clothes? Does she know how many people have already suffered because of you?
Every time his phone vibrated with a message from her, that question came back with it. Every time she smiled at him. Every time she said, "See you later, Pinkman." Every time she held his arm. Every time, it was the same unwelcome feeling that always found a way to seep into the excitement he felt the moment a new message came through.
No, she didn't. And that was exactly the problem.
Jesse took a deep breath, looking down at the ground. A cigarette rested between his fingers, one he hadn't taken a single drag from, only flicking the ashes onto the asphalt. He kicked a few pebbles beneath his feet. He was restless.
He had thought about telling her more times than he could admit. He thought that maybe, if he told her, this feeling would finally go away. He imagined the entire conversation before going to sleep, sometimes even talking to himself in his dark bedroom. He came up with better words in the shower, but he never, ever practiced them in front of the mirror. He felt like a failure who couldn't even look himself in the eyes. Many times, he changed the way he would begin the imaginary conversation while driving through the city. In every version, he ended up in the same place. Her silence. The fear she would feel. The way she would pull away because she no longer recognized him. Because it wasn't only about meth. The drug played a huge part in it, both the kind he cooked and the kind he used. But it was also about the wrong people he knew. About the places he walked into with a cold expression he would never show her. About the doors that should never have been opened. The men who solved problems with guns before they even asked questions. A life that, little by little, had stopped feeling like a life. All of it had been growing heavier in Jesse's mind, and so one thought began to run through his head, always the same.
"If someone finds out who she is..."
His stomach twisted immediately. He didn't like thinking about it. He refused to. Getting hurt had already become routine. Taking a punch because he hadn't given the right answer to the wrong guys. Sleeping badly because he spent more time lost in anxious thoughts than allowing himself to rest. Spending entire days breathing in chemicals. Living with constant guilt. Fear embedded in every part of his being. Angry at himself because he couldn't get out of this situation. All of that, he accepted almost as an inevitable consequence of the choices he'd made. But her... she didn't. She should never have to feel what Jesse felt. She still had a home to return to. A grandmother waiting for her, even if she was sick. A job she loved and used to occupy her time. Books scattered across her table that she always found a way to share with him, even if it was just some random sentence that made no sense. A stray dog she wanted to adopt. She could still laugh at small things, even after a tiring day. She could still see beauty in ordinary afternoons. And Jesse would never allow someone to take that away from her. Never. Because if something ever happened to her because of him, Jesse was certain he would never be able to look at himself again. Because if it was already difficult to face himself with her still there, if something happened to her, that weight would become even heavier. Maybe he wouldn't even be able to keep living.
That was why he had thought about disappearing. The thought hadn't come just once, or twice. It had been pounding inside his head for weeks. Everything was happening too fast. The endless questions that refused to stop appearing. And finally, by the time he noticed, he'd already stopped answering her as often as he used to. He didn't go back to the library anymore, nor did he even dare walk down the same street. He found different routes through the city, avoiding the many places they'd visited together. He let time convince her that he'd simply moved on. It would be better that way. The right thing to do. At least Jesse thought it was what any halfway decent person would do.
The problem was that he could never do it. It only took a few days without seeing her for that familiar restlessness to creep in. An almost physical need to know how her day had gone. If the dog was still showing up and if she'd finally chosen a name for him. If she'd discovered some new band just to spite him. If she was still complaining about her grandmother's cooking. So many things he just wanted to hear her talk about.
She occupied thoughts that had once been filled with nothing but guilt. And that was terrifying for him, because the more time he spent by her side, the more Jesse regretted becoming the man he was. And, for the first time in a long time, he also regretted falling in love. It wasn't her fault; he would never place that blame on her. But she brought out a version of him that seemed impossible to exist in that world. A version that wanted to be better. That wanted to deserve her. And Jesse wasn't sure anymore if that was still possible.
In the end, he gave up. Failing once again at the one thing that truly mattered: telling her the truth. He took a breath and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping even further under the weight of defeat. He slowly exhaled, brought the cigarette to his lips, and took a long drag, watching the smoke disappear into the cold late-afternoon air.
Maybe it was better this way. Maybe this would be the last day he ever set foot on that street. Maybe there was still time to keep his own mess from spilling into her life. And maybe he was repeating those thoughts over and over because he wanted to convince himself they were true.
When he finished the cigarette, he crushed the end against the sidewalk beneath the sole of his sneaker and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. His keys jingled between his fingers as he crossed the street toward his car. He was only a few steps from the door when a voice completely interrupted his thoughts.
He stopped immediately. He didn't even need to turn around. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
He turned slowly, almost afraid that his mind was playing some kind of trick on him, but found exactly who he expected. She stood in front of the gate to her house, a canvas tote bag hanging from one shoulder. The wind played with a few loose strands of her hair, and even from a distance, Jesse noticed there was something different about her. Her smile was small. Her eyes carried a weariness that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other.
It had been days. Too many days. Days that seemed to drag on longer and longer. And suddenly, all the weight he'd been carrying in his chest seemed to lessen simply because he could look at her again. It was ridiculous. He never got tired of repeating that to himself. One look at her was enough for all his determination to leave to evaporate like cigarette smoke. The relief came so quickly it almost hurt. He had to hide it behind the first question he managed to come up with.
"What are you doing here?"
She raised an eyebrow, looking at her own house before turning her eyes back to him.
He let out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head.
"Yeah... fair. But I thought you were working."
Her answer made him lower his eyes for a moment, suddenly embarrassed. Only then did he notice the new book tucked between her arms, still wrapped in the bookstore's plastic. She had probably spent the afternoon walking around the city, stopping into stores, looking through windows, buying little things that caught her attention. Jesse tried to imagine the rest of her day. Her stopping for coffee. Flipping through books before choosing one. Walking through the streets without rushing as the autumn wind scattered leaves across the sidewalk.
She was living. Moving forward. And, for the first time since he'd thought about disappearing from her life, Jesse wondered if maybe that was exactly what was supposed to happen. Maybe she'd keep finding new books, new places, new people... while he remained standing still, trapped in a life he didn't even know how to escape anymore.
Jesse lowered his eyes to the keys still caught between his fingers, absentmindedly spinning the keychain.
"I... was just taking a drive." The excuse sounded weak even by his standards, and he'd already lied to her plenty of times.
She followed the movement of the keys before lifting her eyes to his face again. A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips. Most of the time, he liked the smile she gave him, but in that moment, he hated it. He hated the way that smile seemed to hit him harder than it had the last few times. Hated the way her lips curved so beautifully that they made everything harder for him.
"Didn't know my house had become a tourist attraction."
She joked, but there was something about that smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Still, Jesse noticed. She had missed him, just as much as he'd missed her. Their messages had become less frequent over the past few weeks. They still talked every now and then, always about some stupid little thing, a new book, what each of them was eating at the time, some meaningless joke. But it wasn't the same anymore, not for either of them. His absence seemed to have weighed on her more than he'd imagined.
He looked away for a moment, unable to hold onto that thought.
"So... how have you been? It's been a while since we've seen each other."
She took a deep breath before answering.
Jesse frowned slightly. He tried to push away the concern he felt for her. The urge he had to protect her from the problems that came up throughout the weeks, bringing that tired expression to her face. But how could he do that when Jesse himself was already a huge problem?
She hesitated. Only for a second, but it was enough for him to catch the uncertainty in her words.
"Yeah... something like that."
He nodded slowly, but immediately knew that wasn't the whole answer. There was something hidden there. Something she didn't want to put into words. He didn't press her, especially because he carried far too many secrets of his own to demand honesty from someone else.
"I understand." And he really did.
Silence settled between them once again. She looked out at the street, watching dry leaves cross the asphalt, carried by the wind. Jesse pretended to pay attention to anything else: a crooked fence, a car passing in the distance, a tree that was almost bare. Two perfectly capable adults who could talk about anything... completely unable to figure out what to say to each other.
The guilt was still there. Heavy and uncomfortable, dragging Jesse deeper into some gray, lifeless part of himself. Walter still occupied his thoughts. The lab. The lies. The dirty money. Everything remained exactly the same. But it only took a few minutes standing beside her for that plan to disappear to start falling apart again. He missed her too much. Painfully much. He had spent entire days convincing himself that he needed to leave before he destroyed her life too. Now, all it took was hearing her breathe beside him for him to realize that he simply... couldn't. He couldn't leave. Not even when he knew it might be the only right thing to do.
"You know... why don't you come over to my place?"
She blinked a few times, clearly surprised by the invitation. Jesse actually thought she would refuse, but, just like him, the answer slipped out before she could think too much about it.
"Because I don't have any excuses left. You're returning your books on time."
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. Jesse hated how easily she could make him laugh. Or maybe he hated the fact that he allowed himself to feel so light around her when he had no right to feel that way. Not after everything. Not after the people he'd hurt, the lies he told every day, and the life he'd chosen to live. To him, there would never be a good enough reason to lessen the weight of the man he'd become. And yet, all it took was a few minutes near her for that weight to feel less suffocating. It didn't disappear; it was still there, hidden somewhere inside his chest. But while she smiled, while she made some stupid joke or simply stayed beside him, Jesse could almost believe there was still some good left inside him. And maybe that was exactly what scared him the most, because she made it seem so easy to forget the man he really was.
Jesse remained silent for a few seconds. He absentmindedly bit his lower lip, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as he watched her. It was incredible how she could turn any conversation into something simple. And it was even more incredible how much of an... idiot he became when he was around her. The terrible excuses she always noticed. The jokes that slipped out before he could even think. The impulsive invitations, because she left him far too disoriented to think straight. The involuntary smiles. All of it made far too much sense now.
Walter's voice crossed his memory with the same clarity it had that day in the lab. For the first time, though, it didn't come with guilt. It didn't weigh on his shoulders. It only made Jesse lower his head for a moment, letting out a quiet laugh through his nose as he realized that, damn... maybe Walter had been right.
"I'm literally inviting you over right now, you idiot." He lifted his eyes to her again.
The words slipped out before he could filter them. With her, everything seemed to happen too quickly. Jesse never had to think too much. Never had to do much to impress her. The words simply came out, naturally, as if his body knew how to talk to her before his mind had even decided what to say.
"Thanks for that, Pinkman." She placed one hand over her chest, feigning indignation.
His eyes widened for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck, realizing what he'd said.
She smiled that same quiet, easy smile she always had.
"I know." There was a long pause as she thought about how she should respond to his invitation. "Can I... just go inside to grab a few things?"
The question made Jesse take a second to answer. She had accepted. She had actually accepted. His heart seemed to speed up without permission.
"Wait here? I promise I won't take long." She smiled faintly, pointing toward the porch.
They walked together toward the entrance of the house, Jesse suddenly feeling out of place now that he was finally stepping into her yard. Before actually opening the door, she smiled at him, then disappeared inside as she closed it behind her. Jesse remained standing on the porch, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie as he watched the nearly empty street. He slowly exhaled, shaking his head to himself. He was an idiot. He had spent the entire week convinced he needed to disappear from her life. Now he was waiting on her porch because he'd invited her to spend the night at his place.
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, feeling the pack of cigarettes. He pulled it out, but before he could place one between his lips, he heard muffled voices coming from inside the house. He couldn't make out the words. Without realizing it, he took a step closer to the door, pretending to look around the yard when, in reality, he was trying to figure out what was happening inside.
That was when the door opened, and he watched as she stepped out first, a backpack in her hand.
"Grandma, you don't have to do this..." She tried to stop her, but the older woman appeared right behind her, completely ignoring her granddaughter's attempt to hold her back. The moment her eyes landed on Jesse, a huge smile lit up her face.
"Oh... so you're the handsome young man."
"Grandma, please..." She immediately closed her eyes, bringing a hand to her face.
Her voice came out muffled between her fingers, filled with an embarrassment Jesse had never imagined seeing from her. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but it didn't work. A laugh escaped through his nose as he extended his hand toward the older woman.
"Hi, ma'am." He almost let a "hey, old lady" slip out. He'd been spending far too much time insulting Walter White.
"Hello, dear." She stepped a little closer, studying Jesse as if she'd known him for years.
"That's me." He nodded a little too quickly, equally nervous. A playful smile refused to leave his face.
"Well... now I understand." She glanced quickly at her granddaughter, who looked like she wanted to evaporate. "That girl talks about you so much, I already thought I knew what you looked like."
Jesse immediately turned toward her.
"Really?" A distinctly smug smile began to appear on his face.
She finally lifted her head, staring at him with an utterly mortified expression.
"Don't look at me like that."
"So you talk about me..."
"A lot, apparently." His tone gave away just how much he was enjoying the situation.
"Pinkman." She narrowed her eyes at him while he made a tremendous effort not to laugh.
Her grandmother simply watched the two of them, clearly amused. She moved slightly closer to Jesse, her mobility impaired and already relying on a cane for support.
"Take good care of my granddaughter, okay?"
His smile faded slightly at the request. As playful as the conversation had been up until then, those words touched something inside him.
"I will." He nodded slowly. The sincerity in his answer made even her granddaughter look up at him for a moment.
Her grandmother smiled, satisfied.
"Come inside for a bit. I just made some coffee."
Jesse opened his mouth to answer, but didn't even get the chance. She placed a hand on her grandmother's shoulder, drawing her attention.
"I think that's enough for today, Grandma."
She appeared beside the older woman with her backpack already hanging from one shoulder, stubbornly refusing to look at Jesse.
"But just a little coffee..."
"Another day." She said it with a slightly saddened sigh. The answer came out too quickly.
"Okay, okay..." Her grandmother sighed dramatically. She looked at Jesse again. "You'll come by another time, then."
She nodded, satisfied. Jesse watched as she finally turned toward him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the gate before her grandmother could decide to continue the conversation. Once they were outside, she turned around one more time to wave.
"Take care of yourselves!" she called back from the other side of the porch, still smiling as she watched them leave together down the sidewalk.
Jesse walked toward the car with such a big smile on his face that he had to lower his head a few times, as if that would be enough to hide it. But it didn't help. The corner of his mouth stubbornly remained lifted. It had been years since anyone had introduced him to their family. Years since anyone had said something like take good care of her, as if that were even a possibility in the life of someone like him.
She climbed into the passenger seat with a long sigh, the kind that seemed to have been trapped inside her for minutes. She closed the door and sank a little deeper into the seat, covering her face for a moment.
"So... I'm your handsome young man, huh?" Jesse asked, unable to resist teasing her.
She let out an embarrassed groan before even answering and gave his arm a weak punch.
"Don't start... not today, please."
He was still laughing when he turned the key in the ignition. The engine started, but the smile remained on his face for most of the drive. At times, Jesse brought a hand to his chin, rubbing his scruffy beard in a completely useless attempt to hide his expression. But all it took was remembering her grandmother calling him her "handsome young man" and that stupid smile was back again. She noticed his smile slipping through two or three times, but chose not to comment. She was embarrassed enough by everything that had just happened.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it was different from the others they usually shared. Jesse watched the road. She watched the city pass by through the window. Her hands remained clasped over the backpack in her lap, absentmindedly squeezing one of the straps. Every now and then, he stole a quick glance in her direction, as if he needed to make sure she was really there. The embarrassment over the scene with her grandmother was still there, it was obvious, but there was something else too. Something heavier. A weariness that seemed to have seeped through her skin and settled behind her eyes. Ever since he'd found her standing in front of the house, that look hadn't disappeared. He thought about asking, but gave up before he could even form a question. No, not yet.
He parked in front of his own house after driving street after street from her place to his, quite a considerable distance. She waited for him to unlock the doors before getting out right behind him. As soon as she stepped inside, she looked around the living room and a small smile appeared on her face.
"You haven't changed anything?"
Jesse froze for a second. She was obviously talking about the house. The pizza box still forgotten on the coffee table. The old, sagging couch sitting exactly where it always had, the same couch where he'd spent so much time thinking about her that he could almost see those thoughts materialized right there. The coats thrown wherever he happened to drop them after coming home exhausted from another day of cooking meth. The old television he'd bought to play his games, but now used to fill his head with whatever stupid show happened to be on. The mess that seemed to be part of the decor. But for a moment, he thought she was talking about him. Because the house really was still the same, but Jesse wasn't. Over the past few months, he'd changed so many times that he barely recognized who he was when he looked in the mirror. He'd learned to lie better. To hide more things. To carry enough guilt to fill an entire lifetime. And, strangely enough, he'd also learned how to laugh again... because of her.
The question echoed in his mind for a few seconds before he shrugged.
"I did change. Can't you see the laundry pile got bigger?"
She looked at the couch, then at the chair covered in hoodies, then at another chair... which was also covered in clothes. A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"Ah, you're right. Impressive progress."
He laughed with her, and for a few seconds, all the guilt, all the fear, and all the questions he'd been carrying since his conversation with Walter disappeared again. Just because she was there, laughing at the stupid things he did. Jesse barely had time to protest before she pulled a trash bag from underneath the kitchen sink.
"Hey, you don't have to do that."
She raised an eyebrow, looking around the living room before meeting his eyes again.
"Jesse... there's a mug on top of the TV."
He followed her gaze, a shy smile appearing on his face as he picked up the mug, clearly unsure what he was supposed to do with it.
"Oh." He tapped his fingers against the porcelain. "I was using that."
She slowly turned toward him, gathering a few pieces of clothing.
"Sometimes I forget where I put stuff."
She simply shook her head, holding back a laugh as she began gathering some of the wrappers scattered around the living room. Jesse tried to help her for about five minutes, but it quickly became clear that he was getting in the way more than he was helping. Every time she organized a stack of magazines, he dropped some piece of clothing on top of it. Whenever she folded a blanket, he sat down right on it.
"Are you sabotaging my work?"
"I'm giving the place some personality."
She snorted a laugh. In the end, he gave up pretending to help and sat on the kitchen counter, watching as she walked back and forth. She wasn't cleaning in a hurry. She didn't seem to be doing it because the house was actually that messy, either. There was something else behind it, as if she needed to keep her hands busy. Needed to think about anything other than the reason she'd left home that day. And Jesse noticed, and for the first time, he didn't try to stop her. He simply stayed there and kept her company. Every now and then, she'd ask where something belonged and he'd answer after thinking for a minute or two. Sometimes he'd deliberately give her the wrong answer just to watch her complain when she had to look for it later.
"Kitchen drawer." Half-disbelieving, she still walked over to the drawer.
But when she opened it, it wasn't there.
"Lie." He started laughing.
"I needed some entertainment."
When they finished, the living room was still a long way from looking like something out of a home magazine, but at least they could see the floor now.
"Damn..." Jesse slowly turned around, taking everything in. "I have a table."
"I could've sworn it was brown."
"It's been so long since I've seen it..."
She laughed again, and the sound filled the entire house. Later, when the sky was completely dark, neither of them showed any desire to leave.
"I'm hungry." She said it after a few hours of playing a board game with him.
Jesse looked at her, then immediately looked away and fell silent. A silence that incriminated him completely.
"Yeah." Technically, it wasn't a lie, but she had no idea what kind of "cooking" he actually spent most of his days doing. He cleared his throat at the sudden thought. "But I'm too lazy today."
She accepted the excuse suspiciously, but didn't push any further. In the end, they ordered food. And while they waited for the delivery, Jesse pulled out a video game.
"Of course." She answered confidently.
Fifteen minutes later, she was losing her twelfth match in a row.
"You pressed some secret button."
"I did. The one that beats your ass."
She threw a pillow at him.
"You're losing to a three-polygon character."
They restarted the match, and she switched characters in hopes of finally beating him. The answer came a few minutes later.
"No." She groaned as she watched herself lose again.
"I refuse to accept this."
"This controller is broken."
She started laughing so hard she could barely hold onto the controller, and he laughed too. Not just because he was winning, but because it had been so long since he'd spent such a normal night. No gunshots being fired at him. No lab. No Walter White or Heisenberg. And, most importantly, no fear. Just food arriving at the door. A soda that, after hours of being hopelessly distracted by her, had already gone warm. An old video game and a girl complaining because she kept getting her ass kicked by a pixelated character.
For a few hours, Jesse almost managed to believe that this could have been his life from the beginning. And, strangely, that hurt more than any memory of the life he'd actually lived. They stayed like that for a long time, the television playing some random show neither of them was really watching. The remote sat abandoned on the couch after their last failed attempt to pick a movie, while empty food containers shared space with soda cans, a video game controller left on the carpet, and a blanket they'd started sharing without realizing it when the night grew colder. At some point, the clock passed midnight. Then one. Then two. The entire house seemed wrapped in that comfortable silence that only exists when two people understand each other well enough that they don't need to fill every moment with words. She was the first to break that silence.
"I think my sleep decided to take a vacation." Her voice was quiet, almost lazy.
Jesse glanced at her. She was sitting on the other side of the couch, her feet tucked beneath her, distractedly playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of the hoodie she was wearing. He smiled faintly.
The silence returned for a few seconds. He looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and saw that it was almost three in the morning. The rational part of his brain finally decided to show up.
"Do you... wanna go home?"
She slowly lifted her eyes. She didn't answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if carefully considering the question.
"Would it be weird..." she asked, hiding a small smile, "...if I said I don't wanna go home?"
Jesse's chest simply forgot how to work at those words, but on the outside, he only let out a short laugh through his nose, trying to hide his nerves.
That was all he said, as if it were completely normal. As if his heart hadn't just started racing like an idiot because of such a simple sentence. Because, in reality, it was simple. She hadn't said that she wanted to stay with him, she'd only said that she didn't want to leave, but for someone like Jesse, who was used to people walking in and out of his life without a second thought, it felt like an enormous choice. She wanted to stay there... with him, even if they weren't doing anything at all.
Across from him, she smiled faintly. Not the big smile that showed her teeth, just the smallest movement of her lips, and she simply thanked him with a single nod, as if his answer was enough. And it was.
They remained silent for a few more minutes, the television keeping them company with its noise in the background. Some character shouted something. An audience laughed, but neither of them was paying attention.
Jesse rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor for a few moments before speaking again.
"Hey..." She turned her face toward him. "Remember that place..." He scratched the back of his neck. "Where I took you to watch the sunrise?"
She didn't have to think. Not even for a second.
"I remember." The answer came so quickly that Jesse lifted his eyes. She continued, now looking at the blank television screen instead of him. "I never forgot."
The words hit Jesse in a way he hadn't expected at all. He remembered that day the way someone remembers a minor accident. Terrible coffee. Strange conversations that only the two of them seemed to understand. The old car making noises while they watched the sky grow lighter without knowing exactly what to say. It was a good memory, but an ordinary one. At least, that's what he'd thought. It had never crossed his mind that the moment might have stayed in her memory for so long.
The words echoed inside his head. For a moment, Jesse wanted to ask why. What exactly did she remember? If it was the sunrise, the conversation... or him. But the fear of ruining something made him stay quiet, so he simply cleared his throat, pretending that the words hadn't completely scrambled his thoughts.
"So..." He got up from the couch before he could change his mind. "How about we go there again?"
"No terrible coffee this time?"
The laugh escaped him immediately.
"Jesus..." He ran a hand over his face, trying to hide the sudden flush that had risen to his cheeks. "I'd almost forgotten about that coffee."
"I didn't." She made a playful grimace. "I think it was one of the worst things I've ever put in my mouth, and it's your fault."
"Hey, I didn't make the coffee."
"Okay, fair." He raised both hands in surrender. "No terrible coffee, I promise."
She crossed her arms dramatically.
"Serious promise." He smiled. "This time... just us."
The words slipped out before he could think about them.
For a second, he almost tried to correct himself, but she simply held his gaze for a few moments before smiling that same quiet, almost shy smile.
A few minutes later, Jesse was turning the key in the lock while she waited outside the door, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat to protect herself from the cold wind of the early morning. The street seemed completely empty, lit only by the yellowish streetlights that cast long shadows across the asphalt. Albuquerque took on a strange sense of calm at that hour. It felt like a different city, far removed from the traffic, the honking, and the suffocating heat of the day.
She climbed into the passenger seat while Jesse started the car, and the engine answered with its familiar rumble. The radio remained off, neither of them seeming to feel the need to fill the silence. It was one of those silences that breathed and didn't hurt. One that simply existed.
The streets grew emptier and emptier as they left the residential neighborhoods behind. Traffic lights reflected across the windshield, casting alternating shades of red and gold over her face. Jesse kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested near the gearshift, following the road he already knew by heart.
That's when he started noticing. First, it was almost imperceptible. Her leg bouncing slowly, then a little faster, and then without stopping. She laced her fingers together over her lap, then separated them, only to clasp them again. Her thumb rubbed incessantly along the side of her own hand, as if searching for some invisible distraction. A few seconds later, she brought her teeth to the inside of her mouth, biting the inside of her lip with the same repetitive motion of someone who didn't even realize they were doing it. Jesse frowned slightly. She was different. He knew it wasn't the silence because she'd always liked silence. It was something else. A small restlessness, almost hidden in her movements, but he'd known her long enough to notice. Maybe anyone else would have missed it. Maybe they wouldn't have noticed at all. But he'd been learning, little by little, that she had very subtle ways of showing when something was happening inside her head. She never made a big scene, never raised her voice. It was her body that gave her away first, betraying her in silence. A restless knee. Fingers searching for something to squeeze. A tense jaw. Her teeth biting the inside of her mouth until she forgot to stop or caused some kind of sore.
He stole another quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road. He didn't ask anything, but the feeling that something was weighing on her began to take up space between them, silent, following the car down the dark road while the horizon remained hidden by the early morning that still seemed far from ending.
The drive ended exactly as it had the first time. The dirt road gave way to the small shoulder where Jesse parked the car, turning off the engine immediately afterward. The rumble slowly faded, swallowed by the absolute silence of the early morning. It was strange how that place seemed to exist outside the rest of the world. There were no distant sirens, no honking, no voices cutting through the night. Just the wind moving slowly through the dry vegetation, the smell of earth still warm from the little heat it had absorbed during the day, and an absurdly clear sky, so full of stars that it seemed impossible to believe the city still existed a few miles behind them. The full moon hung high above them, spilling silver light over the rocks, over the hood of the car, and over the two of them, drawing soft outlines where there had once been nothing but shadows. For several minutes after they arrived, neither of them said a word. They simply remained there, side by side, leaning against the car and looking up as if the entire universe were unfolding before their eyes.
Jesse remembered the first time they'd been there perfectly. That night, everything between them had felt strange. Now, the silence carried a different weight. It wasn't made of awkwardness, but of intimacy. The kind that happens so slowly that no one notices exactly when it began. Even so, something was still wrong. He tried not to look at her and convince himself it was just his imagination, but all it took was a glance from the corner of his eye to realize that the restlessness from the car hadn't been left behind. She was still absentmindedly biting the inside of her mouth. Her fingers remained intertwined in front of her, squeezing each other hard enough for her knuckles to lose their color. Her shoulders were tense, raised a few inches higher than normal, as if they were carrying an invisible weight. She stared at the sky, but Jesse had the strange feeling that she couldn't see a single star. It was as if she were somewhere far away, lost in a place he couldn't reach.
For weeks... maybe months... he'd done exactly the same thing. He noticed her restless behavior and kept it to himself, almost as if he shared the same uneasiness she did. And he waited for her to talk when she was ready. Because that was how he dealt with his own pain. He hid it, swept it under the rug, and convinced himself that eventually the pain would disappear on its own. But looking at her that night was like watching someone trying to hold an entire wall upright with nothing but their own hands... and he simply couldn't keep pretending he didn't see it.
His voice came out low. So low that it almost blended into the wind. She slowly turned her head, her eyes meeting his, and Jesse swallowed hard. He'd never been good at these kinds of conversations. He'd never known how to find the right words. But for the first time since she'd entered his life, he decided that imperfect words were better than staying silent.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, looked away for a moment, then met her eyes again.
"I..." He scratched the back of his neck quickly. "I know something's going on."
She remained completely still. She wasn't even breathing properly. He continued, speaking slowly, stumbling over his own words as he always did when he was nervous.
"You can... you know..." His shoulders rose in an awkward gesture. "Talk to me."
That was it. No elaborate speech. No grand promises. Just his sincere words. And suddenly, it was as if something inside her simply gave way. Her eyes filled with tears instantly. She tried to breathe, turning her face away from him. She tried to hold back the tears, but it was too late. Then, without thinking, without asking permission, without even realizing what she was doing, she moved toward him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her arms surrounded Jesse's body as if desperately searching for something solid to hold onto, something that could keep her standing. Her face buried itself in his shoulder, hidden between the fabric of his hoodie and his neck, while a small sob escaped against his skin. She clung to him in a way that didn't seem to be looking for comfort alone, but for balance, like someone holding onto the only thing keeping them from a much greater fall. Her crying was quiet, restrained, almost embarrassed, slowly dampening the fabric of his jacket as her trembling breath brushed against his chest.
Jesse, however, simply froze. For one full second, his brain seemed incapable of processing what had just happened. She... she was hugging him with all that urgency and all that need. His heart beat so hard he was certain she could hear it. His hands remained suspended in the air for a ridiculously long moment, as if he were afraid of making the wrong move and causing her to disappear. Then something inside him overcame the shock. Slowly, with almost reverent care, he hugged her back. His arms wrapped around her back slowly, uncertain at first, then firmly enough to hold her up. One hand moved up a few inches, resting between her shoulder blades, while the other remained at her waist. Jesse closed his eyes without realizing it. There was a part of him that wanted to say something. Ask what had happened. Tell her everything would be okay. But none of those words felt true enough for that moment, so he remained silent. Because maybe she didn't need answers. Maybe she just needed someone to stay there while everything inside her fell apart.
And, to his own surprise, he realized that he needed that hug too. Needed it more than he'd imagined. It had been so long since anyone had hugged him like that; without expecting anything in return; without ulterior motives; without demands. Just because they wanted to be close. Slowly, without realizing it, he relaxed against her too. He rested his face lightly against her hair, closing his eyes again as he felt her uneven breathing gradually slow. The entire world seemed to disappear. There were no stars. No moon. No Albuquerque. No past. There were only the two of them, holding onto each other in the middle of that early morning, trying to keep each other standing without knowing exactly what they were standing against.
It took a long time before she finally found the strength to pull away. It was a slow movement, almost reluctant. Like she still needed the contact but felt she'd stayed there too long. She moved back slightly, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. She avoided looking at him, quickly bringing the back of her hand to her face in a useless attempt to hide the tears that kept coming. The embarrassment appeared before the words even could. She let out a small, humorless laugh, completely broken by the crying.
"Sorry..." Her voice caught in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to regain some control. "You... you didn't need to see that."
She took a few deep breaths before finally managing to regain control of her breathing. When she eventually pulled away from him completely, she slowly returned to the passenger seat. She remained completely still for a few seconds, staring at her hands resting in her lap. Then, discreetly, she lowered her head, deliberately letting strands of hair fall across her face. It wasn't an unconscious gesture, and Jesse noticed immediately. She was trying to hide, as if, after crying like that, she couldn't stand the thought of being looked at. He watched her for a moment, then quietly sighed and, without saying a word, leaned toward her and, with all the gentleness in the world, reached for her face. His fingers brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, revealing her reddened eyes again. She kept her gaze lowered, completely embarrassed.
"How many times am I gonna have to tell you..." he said, his tone almost teasing, but so gentle that it seemed impossible to take offense. "...that you're not a burden, you airhead?"
A small laugh escaped through her nose, quiet and almost imperceptible, but enough to ease some of the weight that had seemed to crush her chest for hours. She nodded in agreement, wiping away the last traces of tears with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie he'd lent her earlier. The fabric still carried a faint trace of his scent; cheap detergent mixed with cigarette smoke and something difficult to explain that was simply Jesse. For a few seconds, she just took another deep breath, trying to untangle thoughts that seemed far too knotted to become words.
"My grandma..." she began, her voice still quiet. "She's gotten worse."
The words hung between them as she tried to find a way to continue. She took a deep breath, staring at her hands in her lap as if the answer were hidden between her fingers.
"It was... too fast. I always knew this moment was going to come. The doctors warned us a long time ago. But... when it actually happens..." A humorless smile appeared for a moment. "You never really are prepared."
Jesse remained silent. Not for a second did he look away from her.
"I couldn't take care of her by myself anymore. I'd leave for work worried, rush home, barely sleep, make food, give her medicine, try to keep everything organized... and it never seemed like enough. Then one of my aunts showed up." The word "aunt" came out almost bitterly. "We're not even close. She lives in another city. She came because... someone needed to help. And she did. She did everything I couldn't manage to do..."
She breathed again, holding the air for a few seconds before slowly letting it out.
"But she also made sure to remind me of everything I failed to be." Her fingers tightened around each other again. "She asked why I never went to college. Said I was old enough to have become someone by now. That I worked too much for too little. That if I'd thought more about my future, maybe I could put my grandma in a good care facility, pay for a caregiver, give her a better life... She said a lot of things..."
Another small smile appeared, far too tired to really be called a smile.
"And the worst part... is that a part of me believed her."
Jesse felt his chest tighten. She never talked about herself that way. Most of the time, she was the one who found beauty in small things. In returned books with forgotten notes tucked between the pages. In people. In ordinary days. Hearing her repeat the cruelties someone else had planted inside her head felt completely wrong.
She remained silent for a few seconds before continuing. When she spoke again, her voice was even quieter.
"She also... barely knows who I am anymore."
Jesse slowly lifted his eyes.
"Sometimes she looks at me like I'm a visitor. Sometimes she asks where her granddaughter is. I spend the whole day taking care of her... and she asks when I'm coming back."
She pressed her lips together, trying to keep her voice from trembling. She couldn't.
"I know it's not her fault. I know it's the disease... but it hurts. It hurts so much. Because she was everything I had. She raised me. She was my mother. My entire family. And now..."
The sentence died before she could finish it. She brought a hand to her face, breathing unevenly as she tried to hold back the tears.
"Now I'm being forgotten by the person I've loved most in my entire life."
The car fell silent again. Jesse said nothing. Because there was nothing he could say that would make a pain like that any smaller. She took another deep breath, as if there were still one last thing trapped inside her chest. Then she looked toward the windshield, where the moon continued to illuminate the early morning.
"But today... something happened."
Jesse waited through her silence.
"When you showed up at my house..." She looked at him for the first time since she'd started talking, and he noticed an old sadness there, the kind that had already learned how to make a home inside someone. "It was the first time in a long time that she looked at me..." Her voice broke completely. The tears returned before she could finish the sentence. "...and remembered that I was her granddaughter." She lowered her head again. "She called me by my name."
It took her a few seconds to speak again. The crying no longer came with the same intensity, but every word still seemed too heavy to make it past her throat.
"I... I can't afford her medication anymore, either." Her eyes remained lowered. "Every month I do the math. Cut one thing here, another there... try to save money on groceries, stop myself from buying something for me... but it never adds up. Never."
She let out a small, completely empty laugh.
"I work all day at a library. I like my job. I really do. But it just... doesn't pay enough. And I don't blame anyone for that. It's just... not enough." Her fingers tightened around the hem of Jesse's hoodie. "The household bills keep coming. Electricity. Water. Food. Medication. Doctor's appointments... and I just look at all of it without knowing where I'm supposed to get the money from. It's like running after something that never stops moving farther away."
She took a deep breath, feeling another tear escape before she could even wipe it away.
"I don't know what to do anymore, Jesse." The words came out so quietly they almost disappeared inside the car. "I'm... tired."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
"My aunt said maybe it would be better if I went back with her. Take my grandma to the city where she lives. There'd be more help there... maybe even a better place to take care of her." She shook her head before she could even finish. "But I don't want to."
"I don't want to take her away from here." Her eyes finally met his again. "This city is her life. She met my grandfather here. She worked here. She raised me in that house. Every street she can still recognize, every tree, every bakery, every bench in the park... all of it is part of the memories she still has. And I keep thinking... if I take her away..."
Her breathing became uneven.
"...what happens when even those memories are gone?" Silence filled the car again. She lowered her head once more. "I just want her to be able to spend the rest of her life in the place where she was happy."
The last sentence came out as a whisper. After that, she simply couldn't continue.
Jesse remained completely still. Throughout the entire time, he hadn't interrupted her once. Not because he didn't care, but because any attempt at comforting her seemed far too small compared to everything she'd just shared with him. So he simply listened. Every word. Every pause. Every silence that said just as much as the words did. At some point, without even realizing it, he felt his own eyes begin to sting. He blinked a few times, trying to hide it, but a tear eventually slipped from the corner of his eye. He quickly brushed his thumb over his cheek, wiping it away before she could notice, and went back to looking at her in silence. She said she didn't know what to do anymore and, for the first time in a long time, neither did Jesse. Because there was no joke that could make any of this easier. No hug that could pay for medication. No conversation that could stop a disease from slowly taking away the only person she still called family.
That's when a thought came to him. Small, quick, uncomfortable, and almost involuntary. Money. A lot of money. Walter White's face crossed his mind before he even realized it. Stacks of cash. Piles of money hidden away. Makeshift labs. Meth. Jesse frowned slightly. For a moment, he hated himself for even thinking about it, but the idea remained. Quiet and persistent.
Maybe... just maybe... for the first time since he'd started cooking, that money could be used for something that wasn't about destroying someone. Maybe it could pay for that woman's medication. Pay the bills for that house. Give her a little more time in the city where she'd built her entire life. He didn't say a word, not to her, not even to himself. But the thought remained there, lodged somewhere in the back of his mind, as he watched the woman beside him try once again to hold back her tears. For the first time, the guilt he always felt whenever he received that money had found something dangerously close to a purpose, and that scared him almost as much as the pain written across her face.
Jesse kept staring at the dark dashboard for a few moments as the thought continued spinning inside his head. The more he tried to push it away, the more it came back. The money. Walter. Stacks of bills piled on the table. Enough to pay for months of treatment without it even making a difference to whoever was giving it away. For the first time since he'd gotten into this business, he imagined those bills reaching the hands of someone who actually needed them. Not to buy another hit. Not to fuel more violence. Just to keep an old woman alive a little longer. Just to stop the only family this woman had from disappearing right in front of her because of bills she could no longer afford.
The idea seemed absurd, then it seemed inevitable. He couldn't just listen to all of that and go on living as if nothing had happened. He would help. He just had no idea how yet. He'd need to come up with some convincing excuse to explain where so much money had come from without raising suspicion. Or maybe... maybe the time had come to tell her the truth. Tell her who he really was. What he did when he said he was "working." Where the new clothes came from, the car, the money that never seemed to run out. But all it took was one more look at her for him to dismiss that possibility. Not tonight. Not after everything she'd just shared with him. She was already carrying enough on her shoulders. Putting that on top of it would be almost cruel.
Silence settled over the car again. This time, though, it wasn't the same silence as before. It was a tired silence. After a few seconds, she sniffled quietly, wiping the corner of her eyes one last time before realizing that Jesse was still completely silent.
She tilted her head slightly toward him.
"You're awfully quiet..."
He blinked, as if he'd just come back from somewhere far away.
She smiled faintly. A small smile, her eyes still swollen from crying.
"But... I guess that's still not as bad as getting into a fight with an old guy at a junkyard, right?"
For a second, Jesse simply stared at her face, and then he understood. The ridiculous excuse. The completely made-up story he'd told her days ago to explain why he'd been busy, and which she clearly hadn't believed for even a second. The memory hit them both at the same time. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a muffled laugh.
"Yeah..." He shook his head, giving in. "Definitely not."
She laughed with him, this time a little louder. It was still a small, shy laugh, but genuine enough to make Jesse laugh too. For a few seconds, the weight of that night seemed to lessen. Not disappear. Just make room for them to breathe.
When their laughter naturally faded, she rested her head against the seat again and turned her eyes toward the window. The full moon continued to illuminate the desert with an almost unfair calm, as if the whole world were oblivious to the fact that there were people trying not to fall apart inside a parked car in the middle of the night. She remained watching the sky. Jesse, however, wasn't looking at the moon, or the stars, or the dark road ahead... his eyes remained on her. On the silver reflection outlining her face. On the faint traces the crying had left beneath her eyes. On the way she was breathing a little more slowly now. While she took in the vastness of the sky, he remained trapped by the same thought that refused to leave him. Maybe it was the worst decision he could make. Maybe it was stupid to believe dirty money could fix anything. But, for the first time since he'd met Walter White, Jesse wasn't thinking of meth as a way to escape his own life. He was thinking of it as the only way he knew to keep someone else's life from being completely swallowed by pain.
Silence settled between them again without feeling heavy. She continued looking at the moon through the window, while Jesse kept his eyes on her, lost in his own thoughts. For several minutes, neither of them said anything. The wind gently stirred the bushes outside, and the early morning seemed suspended, as if time had decided to slow down along with them.
She was the one who broke the silence when she slowly turned toward him. Her eyes were still red from crying, but there was something else in them now. A small, fragile light, so vulnerable it bordered on a plea.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
The question came out almost as a whisper, as if she were afraid of the answer herself. Jesse stared at her for a moment. He almost smiled, as if she really needed to ask. As if there were any possibility of him leaving after everything that had happened. After that hug. After meeting her grandmother. After hearing every piece of the pain she'd been carrying alone for so long. In his mind, the answer was far too obvious. If she asked, he would stay. That night, the next night, or any other. All she had to do was want him there.
His voice was quiet but steady, without hesitation. He simply nodded once, letting a small smile appear at the corner of his mouth. She returned the smile almost immediately. It was discreet and tired, but there was a quiet sense of relief hidden inside it, as if simply knowing she wouldn't have to face that night alone already made the weight in her chest a little easier to bear.
Neither of them realized it, but in that moment, the night stopped being just another night. No promises. No confessions. Neither of them had the courage to call it love. And yet, staying beside each other felt like the most natural thing in the world.
She continued looking at him for a few more seconds, holding onto that small smile that still carried the exhaustion of the night, and Jesse returned her gaze without realizing he was doing it. At some point, almost without his body asking permission, he slowly raised his hand until it reached her face. His fingers found her cheek with a tenderness that surprised him, gently caressing her skin as his thumb traced an almost imperceptible motion beneath her eyes, as if he wanted to erase the traces her tears had left behind. Jesse tilted his head slightly to the side, never looking away from her for even a second. There was so much tenderness in that silence that any words seemed too small to exist between them.
"You should get some sleep..." he said softly. "I'll stay right here."
Only then did he pull his hand away from her face, even though part of him still wanted to keep it there a little longer. He leaned over the center console and pulled the passenger seat lever. The backrest slowly reclined, settling her into a nearly lying position.
"Only if you promise you won't spend the whole night staring at me." She let out an embarrassed little laugh.
Jesse lowered his head, letting out a quiet laugh through his nose. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck before looking at her again, an inevitable smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"You know me way too well, don't you?"
She nodded without thinking twice.
"Yeah..." Her smile grew a little. "I know you, Pinkman."
The answer made him laugh again, that shy kind of laugh that always seemed to escape whenever she said something that caught him off guard. Jesse simply shook his head in surrender as he watched her movements. She settled herself into the reclined seat, stretching her legs slightly before reaching for the blanket folded across the back seat. She carefully pulled it over herself until it covered her shoulders, settling in like someone who had finally found a safe place to rest after a day that had been far too long. Jesse watched everything in complete silence, not realizing he was smiling again. There was something deeply beautiful about the simplicity of the scene. She trusted him enough to sleep there, inside that old car, in the middle of the night, without asking questions, without being afraid. And in that moment, he realized that protecting her sleep felt like the most important thing in the world.
She finished settling beneath the blanket, pulling it a little higher over her shoulders. Her eyes already looked heavy, defeated by the exhaustion that had finally found room to exist after so many hours of carrying the entire world on her own. Even so, before closing them, she turned her face slightly toward him again.
Her voice was sleepy, almost a whisper.
"Goodnight." He smiled faintly.
She closed her eyes soon after. It took only a few minutes for her breathing to lose the hurried rhythm of crying and become slow, peaceful, almost imperceptible. Jesse remained exactly where he was, leaning back against the driver's seat, not making the slightest movement for fear of waking her. The moon continued shining through the windshield, drawing a silver band across her sleeping face, and for the first time since he'd met her, he could watch her completely at peace.
But his mind was anywhere but there.
The words came back without permission. Again and again. He closed his eyes for a moment.
No. She didn't know him. Not really. She knew the guy who showed up at the library to return overdue books. The guy who made stupid jokes. Who bought terrible coffee. Who spent afternoons playing video games. Who laughed at his own bullshit. But she didn't know the rest. She didn't know about the late nights in makeshift labs. The constant smell of chemicals clinging to his clothes. The lies. The money. Walter White. The meth. She had no idea who he was when he wasn't beside her. And maybe that was exactly why she could still look at him that way.
Jesse looked down at his hands resting on the steering wheel. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like when that truth finally reached her. If she would still be able to look at him with the same affection. If she would still trust him enough to fall asleep inside that car. Or if he would become just another face she'd learn to be afraid of.
His chest tightened because, for the first time in a long time, there was someone whose opinion actually mattered. Someone who made him want to become a better version of himself. Someone who made him think twice before continuing to live exactly the way he'd been living.
His eyes returned to her. She was sleeping deeply now, completely unaware of the turmoil she'd left inside him with such a simple sentence.
The words remained trapped inside him, and Jesse let out a sigh.
No. She didn't know him. She didn't know the choices he made when she wasn't around. The lies he told. The money he hid. She didn't even know half of the things he could do for her.
