*YEAH, BITCH.

indie. high priv. JESSE BRUCE PINKMAN of BREAKING BAD & ELCAMINO. by brei.

     –––––– google doc in description link. side blog to @tiiescut​ –––––––​

@piinkman​ / plotted

The second she’d ended the call, she had barely locked the door before speeding off on her bike. All she could think about was the way the officers always circling her house would have heard him too ( it’s practically public knowledge that they’re listening to her phone calls ) so she’d have to get to the park before they did, and that he might be there by the time she stopped pedalling. Just knowing he was so close spurred her on, making her forget about the incoming evening she rode into.

She’d launched herself off the bike, letting it fall behind her as she’d raced around the park to look for him. She couldn’t dare call his name in case she alerted other people to his presence, but she began searching for him in bushes and up trees. Her gaze had lingered on a roundabout, remembering the mess that followed him around that, before continuing her search. Three hours later, she’s sat on a bench with her bike leaning against it, dejected and hanging her head in defeat. The air is cold and it makes her shiver ; she hadn’t even thought to bring a jacket, but now she realises she doesn’t need it. She just has to go home. She spots some officers in one of their cars watching her as she pushes her bike back to the road. They’re talking and snickering while watching her trudge forwards, and she has to turn her head away so they won’t see the hurt on her face.

After peddling back to her dark house, she locks up her bike with slow, tired movements, determined to let as much time pass before returning inside. She lingers outside a little longer, looking up at the sliver of moon lazily providing as little light as it has to, and wonders if Jesse can see it too. She wonders if he still looks at the stars and thinks about her or their stargazing adventures. It’s only when headlights slowly pass over her that she realises she’s still being watched by the cops and stops to scowl at them before marching to her front door.

The door closes quietly behind her after she unlocks it - she doesn’t have the heart to slam it. Instead, she calmly walks over to the curtains, moving in the dark with the comfort of knowing her home even with no lights on, and pauses once again to direct a judgemental look at the officers’ car before yanking her curtains shut. It’s only then she lets her head hang, clutching the curtains together as a dry sob leaks from her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut, letting the agony of the night wash over her. She slides backwards until the back of her knees hit the arm of her sofa, then she lets herself drop onto it, lying on her back and staring at the darkness above her for a moment and squeezing her eyes shut with another sob.

He had to be smart about this. He knows that he has to get this right. No, it has to be perfect, flawless. He waited for the cops to pull out of their ‘hidden’ spots along the road outside Rapunzel’s apartment. Waiting for their wheels to grind before he makes his approach towards the house. He remembers her back window always being a little sticky with the lock. So he goes around the back and gently tugs at the window’s crease until the lock bends in an awkward angle and he can pry the window open enough to slip through.

He takes his time sliding in, closing the window behind him like it had never happened. He walks through her apartment. It feels old and new all at once. She’s got some of his things on bookshelves –– photos of them, art she’s done of him. It all makes his heart squeeze. 

He doesn’t dare turn any lights on, doesn’t dare move anything as he sits on the sofa and waits for her to come back. Minutes turn to hours, and he’s almost gone into a sleep when he hears her front door open. It startles him, even though he knows he should have expected it. He shifts off the couch, timing his footsteps to hers as he tucks himself into one of the corners of the living room, hiding behind another curtain. He expects her to throw on the lights, and he knows those curtains at the front are open enough to see him if he wasn’t careful in his hiding spot. He can hear the engines of the police cars being killed outside. 

She appears in front of him, standing at the curtains on the other side of the room and staring out into the street. He bites his lip and looks around, not willing to allow himself to grow too excited at seeing her again. He watches with a thundering heart as she comes closer to the sofa, but doesn’t see him hiding in the shadows of the room. His eyes have adjusted to the dark lighting enough to make out that her expression is a terribly sad one. Her sob still echos in his ears. He closes his eyes and forces himself not to sigh out in guilt at having been the cause of that. 

He’s careful in his approach then, bending down slightly and slowly walking around the side of the couch, careful not to let her feet knock against his shins as they dangle over the arm rest. When he senses she might be starting to realize someone was there, he moves swiftly. He bends to one knee at the side of the couch with an eerie silence. Not even his knee makes a noise against the floor. One hand covers her mouth first and foremost, the other reaching to try and grab her wrists. 

Saul listened as Jesse explained the history of the basement and he was pretty sure the younger boy across from him could see the cartoonish dollar signs in his eyes.  Jackpot.  If Jesse’s folks were selling the house to just about anybody else they could get away with this, but no– Jesse knew the house’s history and Saul knew all the hoops they’d need to jump through in order to close the deal.  

“On the record I don’t condone the production of illegal drugs on a residential property… but off the record–” Saul begins leaning back in the his chair as if he’d just delivered a check mate to an invisible opponent.  “–that might have just been the most lucrative batch of blue you ever cooked, my friend.”  

With any other client he would have pulled out the specific law his parents were breaking, but he knew well enough to know Jesse just needed the quick hard facts.  “Legally your folks have to disclose that there was a meth lab in their basement.  You hold all the power here, kid.”  The wheels behind Saul’s eyes were still spinning there was still the matter of keeping the fact Jesse was the buyer a secret.  Then again if Saul knew about one thing it was the power of human greed.  How could they deny the sale of the house in cash?  Even if it was from an anonymous buyer.  In this market that was practically a gold mine. 

“I bet you could get the place for no more than they spent trying to cover up the little mess you and Walt made in the basement.”

Jesse’s infamous eye-roll that made even his head roll along his neck take’s it’s turn to play as Saul takes the opportunity to express his ‘legal opinion’ on the matter. It was very much like Saul. While Jesse trusted the guy, he knew all too well that Saul was much more in bed with Mr. White than he was with him. Saul himself had admitted that Jesse was a side kick more than a leading man. Jesse stomachs that bite for the sake of getting what he wants. A place to live, in this case.

“Yeah?” Jesse asks between drags of his cigarette. The smoke is thick even as Jesse blows it out in a steady stream. He taps the ashes into the coffee cup once more. He knows he doesn’t need to ask any more to get Saul to explain. Sure enough, there he goes, talking about the need to do this and the need to do that. Jesse didn’t care all that much for the law. Truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit about it so long as he wasn’t tangled up in it in the current moment. 

His head tilts to the side, bored as he looks up at Saul with his big blue eyes. They’re fresh and bright –– tuned in and not lacking any focus what so ever. Sharp. Attentive.  

“So what, like, 400 grand?” Jesse asks, a pause that’s unneeded filtering out. Before Saul can start talking again, Jesse cuts in. “Whatever man, long as I still got some cash on hand to float me for a little bit, it’s good.” Jesse’s approval comes with him recalling the money he got from Mr. White. 480,000. He only knew that Walter had paid for his rehab because when he came out and counted the money in Saul’s office, it was the same amount he had when he checked into rehab. 

The whole interview, she’s been different. Her usual brightness is dimmed and nothing anyone says catches her attention, barely responding to anything said to her beyond simple phrases and nods of her head. It’s as though her body is sat on the comfy sofa and her mind is a million miles away, but the second she says his name, it all changes. She focuses like the difference between an old, static, black and white TV and a 3D cinema experience, eyes sharp and determined. She’s not staring at the camera in front of her, but directly into the blue eyes she’s desperately trying to find again, pleading with every inch of her for him to listen.

“ I know you’re still out there. No one’s given up looking for you because we want you to come home. I’m so worried about you and I just want you to be safe and happy. Please, if you see this, contact someone and let me know you’re okay. ”

She swallows a lump in her throat as her head tilts down to the floor, hiding the way her eyes are watering like a leaky hose. Her fingers tighten on her knees, bunching her skirt into her nails as she tries not to let the emotions overwhelm her. She inhales a breath steadily as she forces the tears back, just enough to let her speak before lifting her head again.

“ I miss you, Jesse. ” She chokes out, barely able to see anything in front of her as tears blur her eyes. Her next words catch in the back of her throat and she has to pause before trying again. “ I promise you’ll be safe, just --- please, come back, let me see you, or call someone. ”

The afternoon and night had been spent ripping through the apartment that represented his stepping stone to freedom. He had tasted it months ago and now was finding the taste growing more and more bitter by the second. The rooms were undone in a flurry of methodical searching. He’s focused, wanting to make sure he leaves no stone unturned. He hasn’t thought three steps ahead, he’s only thinking about the current step he’s taking. 

Those steps lead him to a window where a TV’s glare from the neighbouring apartment building catches his eye. His mother and father have microphones shoved into their faces, his mother looks like she’s close to tears, his father looks annoyed. For some reason he needs to hear what they have to say, as if perhaps the knowledge of his suffering would somehow brighten them to understanding and sympathy. But it’s no surprise that he yet again finds disappointment in their eyes. They ask him to turn himself in. They ask him to give up his life again. He hangs his head and his hand drags down the TV’s edge. He’s unaware that his finger has brushed a button on the edge to change the channel until it blinks away to a new image. Before him sits another familiar face. 

His breath catches in his throat as he looks up to see Rapunzel sitting on her couch. She looks dull. Not bright or happy. Then again, the last few times he’d seen her has had been dimming with the worry that their plan to catch Mr. White would fail. But here she looks bleaker still. 

His hand which had rested on the edge of the TV now lifts to press his palm into the flat of the screen. The image bleeds under the pressure of his palm but his eyes trail Rapunzel’s face as she speaks. He knows that couch. He knows that building. It’s the old one she used to have before they moved in to his aunts place. The one across the street from Jane and him just under two years ago. 

His eyes blot with tears as they flutter closed. Truth be told, so much of her words soar past him in his shock of just having seen her there. Instead what he hears is that she misses him. She pleads for him to come back to her. Pleads for him to call her, make contact. There’s a twist in his chest, determination finding its foothold. 

He sighs to steady himself, eyes opening as he looks at her. Her pixelated image is an echo of who she is, and he cannot wait to pass his fingers over her arms, lean his head onto her shoulder, and drink her in again. It’s a luxury to even dream of her that way. His next step is cleanly mapped out now. 

Find the money. Make the call. Make her an offer.

He inhales deeply, body straightening before his hand trails down to the TV’s power button. He hesitates, lingering on her expression as the news reporters go back to asking her questions she numbly answers. He doesn’t hear the words they ask her. 

“Just a little longer.” Jesse says to himself, and maybe to her too. With that he forces his eyes to drift down and away to the button his finger is hovering on. He licks his lips, snags one more glance of her. His finger applies it’s pressure and the TV dies with a winding down of power that’s very subtle. 

He knows where she is. And he knows exactly how to get to her once he gets the other thing he needs.

Aubrey didn’t bother to try shout reassurances to the poor man … she knew damn well that they’d be wrong anyways. If Max wanted to hurt this stranger, then he would most certainly try. Though what had stopped Aubrey in her tracks a few body lengths away from the vehicle wasn’t the alarmed nature of the stranger … but the body language of her dog instead. Despite how it may seem, despite how aggressive Max could be taken as … Aubrey saw something entirely different.

With his hind legs supporting him, the poor hound could hardly stay upright with how hard his tail was wagging … or more accurately, his entire body, the middle of his back bending each direction almost dramatically between small little hops to try to get on the hood. Thankfully it was slick enough to not allow much traction, but even if he did, Aubrey didn’t think that he’d attack. Not even with claws. 

“Oh! Oh yeah uhm…-” blinking and shaking her head, Aubrey rushed forward, taking hold of the leather lead attached to the chest harness, Aubrey did her best to man handle Max to get him to calm down, grunting and attempting to make commands, getting a whining pup to finally sit on his hind legs. And even then Aubrey couldn’t let go of the leash, the hound tryin gto go forward the instant the stranger tried to get down from the car. 

“I’m … yeah I’m really sorry and I mean this in a really good way but he doesn’t normally do this? I mean … he usually leaves people alone. its other dogs he’s not a fan of, you know? Like … its …” grimacing, she sighed, consciously snapping her teeth together and pressing her lips firmly shut so that she wouldn’t ramble and give far too much information to somebody she had just met and likely wouldn’t meet again.

“Eh! Down, poochie!” What was the command that Krazy 8 used to get his dogs to stop? “Haze! Hose!” Something like that. “Aw, common, man!” 

Jesse kept his distance as much as humanly possible. The dog’s body language is all lost on him. The only dogs he had really gotten to know were Krazy 8′s, and all of those were trained attack dogs. They wagged their tails while biting into the dummies his former associate had used, they whined happily while waiting for their cue to run and attack something. Their barks were much less intimidating than their bites. Jesse didn’t need the dog in front of him’s muzzle to confirm that, he already knew. 

The sight of the short and thin lady walking into view and grabbing her dog securely is enough to quell some of his worry. Slowly, Jesse slides himself off the hood of the car. Though he slides himself off on the opposite side, purposefully keeping the car between them as he examines the woman and her weirdly excitable dog. 

“ ‘In a good way’? ” Jesse repeats, nodding his head and scoffing in mild disbelief. “Yo, your dog just, like, charged at me like I was wearing his breakfast! How’s that a good thing?” Jesse fires back, his voice a little too loud and a little too shaky. He adjusts his jacket on his shoulders, cursing gently under his breath as he shakes his head and looks over at her. His blue eyes are wide as he scan’s the dog again, licking the corner of his mouth as his huffs out a defeated little sigh paired with another shake of his head. 

She drags in a deep breath and holds it in her lungs while he speaks. Guilt washes over her as he explains and she shakes her head against him with regret, only letting out her breath when he moves her. Her eyes are wide and still shining with watery concern above the drying trail on her cheek, catching his and refusing to look away for even a second.

“ I’m sorry, I was so worried about you. ” She says, staring up at him, shaking her head before hanging it in shame, staring at both of their feet but never allowing herself to be moved too far from him. She just needs to be close to him, just to make sure he’s really here and she’s not dreaming. “ I talked to your friends and I thought you might —- ”

She can’t finish it. She can’t voice all of the horrific sights that have haunted her every second she hasn’t been able find him - not only will they refuse to crawl through her throat, but she won’t do that to him. He’s probably too aware of them without her saying it, especially with the way she’s holding him like he’ll vanish again if she lets go. She knows she might need to let him go eventually and it’s a tough decision to do it.

“ I should have trusted you. ” She finally says, daring to unclasp her grip. Her hands can’t go far though - they slide from his back to his waist as she blinks up at him, too sleep-deprived to be embarrassed or anything but remorseful for her overreaction. “ You were doing the right thing this whole time and I assumed you were doing who knows what? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for doubting you, Jesse. ”

She feels awful. Like she’s been strapped to the roof of a car doing doughnuts for two days straight, and it feels like she might just slip straight through the ground if he lets go of her. His hands are steady but firm, reassuring her that everything is really is okay, even if she’s been focused on a worst case scenario this whole time.

She can’t see evidence of a major bender like his friends had been suggesting, but she can see he’s exhausted, just like she is. He could have been three steps behind her as she searched for him, silently following her without stopping and not taking a break. Wherever he’s been, he’s been put to work and that only makes her heart squeeze with concern.

“ You’ve been working this whole time? Have you been getting breaks? Or some sleep? ” Her eyes trail over his face again, eyes narrowing worriedly as she catches every inch of his expression. Her heart aches for him and her head tilts as she exhales her next words. “ You look so tired. ”

“Yo, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Jesse says, confusion swirling in his eyes as she seems to apologize for something that seems to have only hurt her. Her eyes are bloodshot and with her, there’s only one reason for that. Lack of sleep takes its toll on anyone, it’s something he’s no stranger to either. But on her it looks more concerning, more worrying than it ought to. There’s no escaping the pang of guilt that strikes against his sternum knowing that it’s him that makes her worry so much. A hit from a meth pipe would easily drown those thoughts in more focused and purposeful ones, a drag from a joint would help calm those racing thoughts into an easy flow he could manage. But he knows he doesn’t want that. Well, he does actually. Really fucking badly. But he knows that’s his habits talking, not his true desires.

“Well, yeah, I uh, crashed on the couch in the break room for a bit.” He lies, rolling his shoulders back and arching his spine to stretch like the couch had messed up his body. Truth was it was just soreness from sitting in Mike’s car all fucking day. But the tension in his back could easily be felt if she did a little searching for it. His hands slip to her biceps as his face twists and a sigh from his stretch is breathed out his nose and mouth all at once. 

“But, yo, we don’t need to, like, talk about all this right now. How about I drive you home, get you some sleep and uh, we can talk in the morning.” Jesse attempts, glancing at the front door to his house, knowing his cellphone was in there and that he needed to go get it. Walking back through that house seemed like something he wasn’t ready to do yet. He supposes he doesn’t need it just to drive her home, anyway. 

He takes a few steps backwards, one hand falling away from her arm as he tries to draw her with him towards the driveway where his car is parked. His eyes scan her expression, waiting for her to follow. 

Everything about Mike seemed born of exhaustion. Even his pride seemed to hold undertones of a tired old man behind it, as if his lips could spread further into a smile, though he simply couldn’t muster the energy to do so. As if he could celebrate a bit louder, though he preferred the simplicity of speaking quietly. All that he was, was a complete opposite of the young man before him. More so when Jesse waved the gun around … 

And certainly noticed the care he used along with it. Which he appreciated. But - 

“Quit wavin that thing around, would’ya?” moving so that he slowly leaned back a bit further, he moved both arms up to each side and pushed them back so his elbows now rested on the edge of the top of the table, his head seemed to fall to the side just a touch, and despite the way his lips seemed to be always tight as if tasting something unpleasant … one side quirked up ever so slightly. 

“Yes, you can keep it but -  but … only when you’re workin’ with me. When you aren’t it stays with me.” His voice was gruff, though matter of fact. There was little room for discussion with it, and while he didn’t state as such yet, it was only a temporary stipulation. Until he knew for sure that Jesse was confident and capable with it when in action, Jesse wouldn’t be taking home shit. 

“And as for that last bit … that’s still up to you kid … now go on. Keep shootin’.” waving his hand where it hung limp in mid air, it was a lazy gesture for him to continue. Not that he expected Jesse to listen … he expected more questions. 

Jesse looks to the gun in his hand, the waving action he’d done moments ago not something he did consciously. Jesse’s body was made to move, although it was often sporadic, clumsy, and a little bit on the irritable side, stillness was not something that was innate. Learning about his body’s ticks and habits was something his mind frequently blanked on, and just how much he spoke with his hands was one he never really noticed until it was pointed out to him. 

He does his best to keep the gun at his side, dangling down with his finger off the trigger, his head turned to face Mike even as he gets comfortable like a grandfather in his lounge chair. Can’t say he blames him. Mike looked like every part of his body ought to be rusty, even though he was far more limber than Jesse was in certain moments. 

“Right on.” Jesse says, nodding a few times before he hesitantly looks back to the target on his other side. Jesse had a deep fear of failure. It was better not to try at all then to try and to fail. The prospect of doing anything without someone coaching him or guiding him was far more scary than he’d be willing to admit to anyone –– even Mike. To stop himself from taking more shots without Mike’s direct guidance, he takes an opportunity where he sees one.

“You know, I, like, get what you’re saying about Mr. White.” Jesse says, looking at Mike a little more poignantly. His blue eyes are squinted in the desert sun, making the edge of his lips curl up into a semi-snarl that has no emotion behind it. His fingers on the gun twitch, and obvious sign of him trying not to wave it around like perviously instructed. “Dude’s an asshole, but we got like... I dunno, a history.” Jesse simply repeats the words he’s heard Walter say before, like somehow they mean the same thing to him as they did to Walter. Even though they didn’t. 

The smile on his lips is contagious, the only smile she has ever known that is able to make her own grow wider. Her eyes meet his, feeling a sense of home the moment she looks into them and yet she has to follow the routine. They AREN’T some long lost lovers, but two people meeting for the first time in a coffee shop that neither should have been waiting in during those moments. It was so entirely hard to hold back, the desire to reach and pull his fingers into hers was higher than the thoughts in her mind. And yet somehow, she was able to behave, to not ruin the moment that perhaps the locals would deem as the moment they met and grew far too invested in each other.

“No, I like it. It’s different. Different isn’t dumb, you know?” her words mused back, an empathetic hand lightly touching his ever so gently. It was that moment that she spelt the spark again, so entirely lost in their past for a moment she fell silent. There was something about that, about him that brought so much comfort to her, as though she had been waiting for this very moment for years. 

“I mean, it’s as cool as you let it be-” that was the truth. She loved it entirely, but she knew it wasn’t the sort of job for everyone out there. Hours were odd and sometimes the work wasn’t all together that artistic, but it was something that brought her joy, something she could find moments of happiness within. And still, she had her sketchbook, something she dove into day in and day out that brought her the most joy, a series of ideas she had been piling up, just waiting to give the world one day “Well then I would one hundred percent be your girl. We could give you something you’ll want to keep,” a soft smile formed, finally pulling her hand back away from his. 

The quiet was nice, something she appreciated the most. She was no longer afraid of her thoughts, finding more comfort in the world that existed around her. “Quiet can be nice. I’ve learned to love it,” Charlotte Jane replied with ease, the small smile still forming on her lips. “The city doesn’t seem like the RIGHT place for you. You seem like a quiet kind of guy,” she replied, knowing a bit too much and letting it be a chalk up to empathy.

“You know if you ever want someone to show you around the HAUNTING silence, I’m good at giving tours. Nothing fancy, but-” she shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.” [ Jesse always took Jane’s words to heart. They meant more. They held more weight than any other words anyone’s ever spoke to him. He sees her as wisdom in a youthful mind. A wisdom that while he thinks he has good street smarts, cannot compete with the way her mind ticks through it’s thoughts and places words like thoughtful ink marks along skin. She etches things into him that have stayed forever. His mind often turns back to small, perhaps insignificant things she once said to him. ]

[ Problem was, Jane and Jesse were no more. One dead, the other on the run from the Police. ] Charlotte and Diesel have never met. She’s never blotted his skin with romance or whispered words that cling to the cobwebs of his lungs when he feels like he hasn’t taken a deep breathe in a long time. No, he only knows the woman for her coffee order, sweet smile, and witched tongue.

He wonders if she still tastes as electric as he remembers. 

“Right on. I’ll, uh, I’ll definetely like, call the shop and set up an appointment with you and shit.” Jesse Diesel says, his excitement betraying him in the breathless moments that pass between smiling lips. Composure was key, and while he’s spent a long time practicing keeping a straight face, he fails miserably here with his excitable nods, his bitten lip, his pupils blown wide. He watchs her lips move into small talk that he’s only able to half focus on. 

“Yeah, I guess, sorta.” He was an odd combination of quiet and loud. He lived on that fine line, but lately he had taken a fall off the edge into the quiet. Being forced to spend house and hours in deafening silence with a the only noises being the terrifying sound of approaching footsteps, the grind of lab equipment, or the flapping of a tarp above his head... It’s allowed him to appreciate the silence more. “I mean, I was born in Wisconsin. So, you know, it’s pretty quiet there. City was alright, but–– I dunno–– Guess I just kind of missed it.” His eyes fall from hers, hands toying with the mug in his fingers. The cup is hot to the touch, forgetting that he meant to take a sip over a minute ago. 

Her head absently turns to him, tilting as she listens to him while thinking about a million other things. She’s so consumed by the peace and comfort she feels just by being this close to him, she might as well be a million miles away, surrounded by her thoughts. It’s only when he touches her that she crashes back to Earth, eyes widening a fraction as they dart to his hand and back up to his face.

Her heart races when he looks at her, climbing into her throat as she realises what’s coming. Her lips part with an excited smile, her breathing deepening while he inches closer. Her head spins giddily while mossy eyes sparkle with anticipation of what’s coming next, wandering down to his lips and back before gently closing. She lifts herself up a little onto her elbow as she waits for him to meet her when a horrible thought hits her.

Oh boy, this is going to hurt.

“ Jesse —- wait. ”

With her eyes still closed, she presses a finger against his incoming lips with her face screwing up with regret. Gods, she can’t believe she’s still talking instead of kissing him. She almost groans with her decision but she knows it’s the right thing to do. But she doesn’t push him away at all - she just doesn’t let him get any closer even though it practically physically hurts to break the moment by opening her eyes again.

“ I, um, just want to make sure you’re — that you really want this. ” It’s just a kiss - what is she freaking out about? Oh gosh, she’s already regretting ruining this, but she can’t back out now that she’s started. She blinks a few times, her eyes wandering a little in between watching him. “ That this isn’t another distraction for you. ”

He thinks the next moments will pan out as he expects. The only question on his mind is what her lips will feel like, taste like, how they’ll make him feel. What he doesn’t expect to feel, however, is the pressing of her fingers against his lips instead. It’s almost alarming. A mere moment ago she had closed her eyes and waited for him, and now she was stopping him.

His own eyes blink open, brows lowered over them as he looks down at her, a question in them waiting to be asked. He does his best to ask around the curve of her finger. 

“What do you––” There’s a pause, teeth pulling at the edge of his lip for a fraction of a second. “What do you mean?” He shakes his head in small twitchy motion. Stillness has never been his forte. His body demands movement like an itch that can’t be scratched all over him. He lifts his head just a touch, taking the hint from her fingers not to approach any further. His lips pull away from her fingers while he wets them in anticipation for her words. It’s not like he needs a reason for why she didn’t want to kiss him, but when her words fall out in the form of a worry about his intentions, he cannot help the slight sting in his chest. 

“Distraction?” He repeats, nodding, fighting with the hurt in his chest. He does his best to recognize that she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. “You know I don’t use for a distraction, right?” Maybe she doesn’t. He’s never really explained what drives him, what keeps him going back to the pipe like a dog with it’s favourite bone. His voice is soft, burying hurt into explanation. His blue eyes beam down at her, he tilts his head to the side slightly, the new angle lighting the bags under his eyes. 

“I use cause I wanna check out. Forget shit that’s happened.” He bows his head, chin tilted inwards, making those blue eyes shine down at her a little bit more. “This?” Jesse motions with one of his hands, flicking his finger back and forth through the air between them. His shoulders rise, head falling a little closer.