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Jesse was tired of feeling like shit because of Walter. He was tired of being pushed around and put down by the older man. He felt like he was just a tool to be used and thrown away afterwards, disposable and easy to forget about.
But at the same time, Walter needed him. He needed him to deal the meth and get the money, or else Walter would be stuck with pounds and pounds of meth and no way to sell it. He wouldn’t make it out on the street doing the dirty work. But that was where Jesse had experience in. Walter needed Jesse even more than just doing the dirty work of dealing on the streets, but it was an unvoiced need. Without Jesse, Walt wouldn’t be making the money he is now, wouldn’t be paying off his cancer treatment with ease.
Even if he was needed, Jesse was still suffering from the mistreatment and scalding words spoken by the older man. He felt insignificant and small, like it wouldn’t matter if he was gone. He wouldn’t dare off himself even if he feels this way. He felt that if he did, that means Walter won. And he won’t let Walter win.
He wanted payback.
For once, he wanted to be the one in charge. To be the one taking the shots and giving the orders.
He wanted to think something out, make a plan, but there was so much pent up anger that one day, while they were cooking out in the desert in the crystal ship, he snapped. Both of them got into a brutal fight that knocked everything off the counter and smashed most of their equipment, rolling along the floor among broken glass and chemicals that could potentially burn their skin. Gas masks were torn off, both men breathing the chemical-filled air as they fought.
“Jesse!” Walter screamed in rage, trying to get the kid off of him, but due to the anger and adrenaline fueling his strength, he got the older man pinned to the floor. Walter kicked and pushed at Jesse, but Jesse put all of his weight on Walter’s midsection.
He punched Walter in the face once, that one punch making Walter’s nose bleed instantly. The blood streamed down the sides of his face and into his mouth; streaking across the floor and onto Jesse’s knuckles as he continued punching the older man in the face. Over and over, the hits continued. Jesse was dizzy with white-hot rage, his vision blurring a the edges and his hearing muffled.
“Jesse-” He could barely get the word out through the blood.
Jesse finally stopped, his breathing labored.
Walter lay there with no fight left in him, face already bruising and stained with blood. His glasses, cracked, flew off at the first punch, landing near the front seats of the vehicle. His breathing came out in short pants, bursting into a coughing fit; trying to cover his face with his arm, wincing due to the pain that shot through him from his lungs to his beaten face.
Jesse suddenly realized what he had done, looking at his bloody knuckles in awe. He started to panic, backing up off of Walter and not stopping until he hit the back of the RV.
“Mr. White, I’m-” His voice shook, tears welling up in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry…”
Walter just laid there, staring into space. He felt anger welling up in his chest, but it hurt to move, hurt to breathe.
He slowly pulled himself up, grabbing for his glasses and balancing them back on his nose. Walking over to Jesse, he stared down at the panicked boy who stared back at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“Mr. White-”
“Shut up.” Walter slurred. “Just shut up.”
The RV looked like it had gone through its own personal hurricane. Bits of glass, chemicals, and blood staining a section of the carpet.
Walter punched Jesse only once. He clocked in face as hard as he could, making Jesse’s nose bleed in return. But he didn’t hit him again. He left it at that before walking away and taking off his apron.
“We’re done for today. Get new equipment by tomorrow.”
Jesse just nodded.
He wanted payback, but just like everything else, it did nothing to help him. It just made his life worse.