Chapter Text
Such an idiot, I’m such an IDIOT, a retarded naïve stupid fuck.
He can hardly breath, he’s so angry. He sounds more like an animal than a human being. Every breath comes out as a roar. He needs something to take the edge off, to give him an edge. He doesn’t even remember how he opened the door to his own house, but as he snorts that first line on the glass coffee table in his living room, he can see the jerrycan in his garage as if it was standing right in front of him. He throws it in Saul’s hideous car, drives to the White residence in a fury. His blood is boiling and pounding through his veins, he can almost hear it like a frantic drumbeat.
I need another line, I can’t cope, I’m cracking, I can’t do this, I need to do this, what should I do, come on you idiot!
“Aaaarrrrrgghhhhh”, he screams as he’s banging the steering wheel with clenched fists. It doesn’t take much for him to kick in the door. He pours the gasoline all over the living room, all over himself, his rage is all consuming.
Where’s my fucking lighter?
His fingers are shaking but he manages to set a rolled up piece of paper on fire.
Here goes…
“Wha-what the hell is going on here? Wh-who are you? What are you doing here?”
Jesse stops dead in his tracks and turns around, trying to calm his nerves. He didn’t even think of the possibility that someone might actually be in the house. He looks at Walter Junior, waits until the noise in his head calms down, wishing for it to leave his body.
What time is it? Why is this kid here? Did I just almost kill …
The light bolts in his head are back, he feels like he’s falling.
“… this gasoline? … calling the police… My uncle is a cop…”
He sees the boy’s mouth formulating words, but he can’t make out their meaning.
I need to snap out of it. I need to get out.
Jesse tries to control his breathing, he doesn’t want to scare the kid even more. He can’t believe he almost… He’s steadies himself against the back of the couch, taking a couple of deep breaths. The pounding in his head has to stop. He looks Junior in the eyes and sees the fear and is repulsed that he is capable of making someone react that way to him.
“I’m, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He sobs, pressing the lighter to his forehead.
Junior has his phone in his hand, but he’s paralyzed. This is completely wrong, he doesn’t understand what the hell this guy is doing in their house, why anyone would want to harm them. Who is this guy? Does this have to do with his dad’s gambling problem? Is this like that time when he found his father beaten up and drugged in his condo a couple months back?
“Wh-who are you?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, … I … You shouldn’t pay for what your dad… Your father…”
“You know my dad?”
“I…”, Jesse hesitates, “I worked with your dad, with Mr. White…”
Junior takes another look at the guy in his living room and knows better than to ask whether he worked at JP Wynne High School.
“You are Jesse.” It’s a statement, not a question. And all of a sudden it’s clear as day to Junior that, yes, this is Jesse.
Jesse’s eyes shoot up to the teenager. The noise in his head dies down.
Junior answers the question Jesse didn’t ask: “You’re the one he was worried about.”
Jesse doesn’t understand what he’s talking about.
“When he got into that fight…”
Mr. White got in so many fights, what’s he talking abou… Mexico. We got into a fight when I had to go to Mexico…
“He was calling you…” Walter Jr. stresses the word “you”. You, not me.
He was worried about me?
Junior registers the surprise on the intruder’s face. His features change. The anguish leaves him and so does Junior’s fear. Jesse walks past Junior, mumbles something resembling another apology and steps out the door.
For fuck’s sake Mr. White, you don’t even need to be there, why do you always do this to me? You keep getting away with it.