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"I know, I know," Jesse said before Walt could say anything. "You're married, I'm a pathetic stupid junkie, we can't be together and it won't work out anyway so why bother but—" He let out a long suffering sigh that made his whole body shake. "I realized shit while I was in rehab, Mr. White. I realized shit about myself that I didn't know until then. I had, what's the fuckin' word, repressed, yeah, repressed, my attraction to men for so long and it spurred out in the worst way possible, which is, you know, you. And if I didn't have eyes I'd probably think you're the straightest man alive but you somehow haven't ditched me yet despite how much you complain about me so I'd like to believe you do in fact like me at least a little." He coughed. "Anyway. That's all. Just one kiss. That's all I ask for. If you're okay with it, of course, I'm not asking for like, you to force yourself to kiss me."
Walt stared at him for a long time. "This is a horrible idea, Jesse," he said. There was undeniable fondness in his voice, though, as much as he tried to push it away. As much as he tried to bury it deep, deep down, Jesse knew what Walt felt about him. Even if they couldn't do anything about it because of a thousand reasons, there would always be that bond there. Codependent, unhealthy, dysfunctional, downright toxic, yes; but that bond would never be broken. It was just as toxic as it was unbreakable.
"Sure is," he agreed. "But just once. Just once, Mr. White. It's all I'm asking for."
Walt got closer to him. They were in the stupid little place he was renting while his wife had kicked him out, and Jesse couldn't see how he would get out of the separation situation. Even if Walt was single, though, them doing something about this would just end badly. Anyone with sense could see they were a disaster waiting to happen. Or rather, a disaster in motion. The explosives went off a long time ago.
He cupped his cheek in his hand, and Jesse leaned into the touch. He felt worthwhile, suddenly, like there was something in him worth saving, worth looking at. When he was in rehab all he could feel was acceptance toward the fact he had caused Jane's death, that he was an evil, terrible person. Nothing in it made him feel like bettering himself, which, to be fair, was against the ethos of that guy who killed his daughter. He still didn't know how he lived with himself—he supposed he never would.
"You're pretty," Walt said under his breath, voice dripping with something like adoration before he leaned in and kissed him.
It was gentle for maybe a couple seconds, before desperation set in for both of them. Jesse got in his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Walt's neck and kissed him like the world would end if he didn't, all teeth and tongue, noses bumping as they got in the best position for this. Walt's tongue slipped into his mouth with ease and he put a hand on the back of his head, holding him like he was made of glass, like if he didn't grab at him and press him against himself he'd shatter into a thousand little pieces.
Worst part is that he would. If he didn't have Walt, he'd break. Fragile was written over him in tape after rehab.
When they pulled away for breath, Walt's eyes were a pool he could drown in. He stared up at him and reluctantly pulled away. Just one kiss, he reminded himself, as much as he wanted more. As much as he wanted Walt to fuck him into the mattress, to treat him like he was worth nothing and was fine china at the same time—they couldn't do any more. The ship was sinking and he had to stop playing the fucking violin.
"Jesse, wait," Walt said, voice barely audible, but he had already opened the door of the apartment and ran out of there and into the outside world. He closed the door of the possibility of it blossoming into something more.
It was the least he could do, he reasoned as he walked through the streets, knowing Walt wouldn't follow him. The least he could do was not tangle himself in with Walt even more than he already was. He was trying to untangle himself from the business, live in the straight and narrow after trying out criminality, so maybe they'd never see each other again. That was fine with him. Otherwise the longing would make him go insane.