Chapter Text
Tapping your pencil on your desk, you're staring into the window of the neighbour's house as you listen to the incessant sound of the crashing of cymbals and drums from next door and zone out, looking at the pattern on the curtains that covered the view of the inside. It was that neighbour's kid. The one you were never allowed to meet.
You appreciated heavy music, of course - but when all you can hear is the drummer, because he's rehearsing every waking second of the day, it doesn't take long to become disruptive. You just roll your eyes, turn your music up louder and hope your parents will go next door to deal with it.
You don't hear any doors shutting, so when the drumming stops, you think he's just worn himself out for the day. But now a new train of thought has distracted you from your work, so you put the pen down and go lie down on your bed.
You realise that your thoughts have become very centered around this guy you've never even met, and it occurs to you that your parents never told you why you weren't allowed to meet him. Just that they refused to let you.
You'd met his parents, and they seemed to get along with your parents, so it can't be that they have a problem with his family. It really is a problem with the kid. But if he's your age, how bad could he possibly be?
This curiosity about the stranger next door had brought you close to going over there to see for yourself, more times than you'd like to admit. You've always been a rule-follower, not quite liking the idea of getting in trouble or sticking out too much. You had your fair share of that when you came out to your parents as gay.
Maybe not that you got 'in trouble' so much as treated like it was the most confidential information in the world and the less people who knew, the better. You really did appreciate all your parents did for you, and you understood where they were coming from, but this one thing really made you lose a little trust in them. Telling you that you had to keep it secret from the rest of your family shoved you back in the closet - the exact place you were trying to get out of. So that's what you got for trying to proudly stick out from a crowd - having to force a smile at every family gathering when you were asked about having a girlfriend. Part of you wanted to tell them outright, but you couldn't do that. As much as you hated being in the closet, you hated disappointing people even more. And as if it couldn't get any worse, you knew that was a damaging mindset to have, but you didn't know what else to think.
You look over at the clock on your nightstand. 22:43, it reads. You may as well try and sleep - you've got school in the morning.
It feels like you simply blinked, but the alarm blaring beside you begs to differ. You switch it off and grumble, rubbing your eyes and sitting up so you don't accidentally fall back asleep. God knows you're tired enough. You take it one step at a time. Feet on the floor, then stand up.
With how down you've been feeling lately, it's taken you more and more motivation just to get out of bed and go to school. But what can you do, other than wait for it to pass? It always did. Why would this time be any different?
You get in the shower, change into a pair of jeans and a hoodie (since it's getting pretty cold outside), and blow-dry your hair. You pack your bag and then head out to the bus stop, music blasting through your earbuds.
The bus ride is about 30 minutes, and in all honesty, it was the part of the day you savoured most. It was time you often spent just letting your mind wander as you listened to your music and stared out the window.
Anything after that was just locker, class, locker, class, lunch, locker, class, et cetera. You were getting tired of the loop already, and this was only the first month of the school year. The only person that ever seemed to keep things interesting was that kid who sat beside you in Mr. White's chemistry class. He also happened to be the same person who's been staring at you whenever your paths crossed between classes.
After being outed as gay in your freshman year, you were no stranger to stares from the other students. But the gaze of this particular person felt much less persecutory than everyone else.
You figured you were romanticising things and ignored it the whole time. No-one in late-90s to early-2000s New Mexico would be openly gay; and you'd proven the reason why.
His name was Jesse Pinkman. You'd interacted with his friend Brandon a few times (or Badger, as his friends lovingly called him), and you had a pretty good rapport with the guy - you felt it might be overstepping to call yourself his friend and figured he saw you as more of an acquaintance, although you'd later find out that Badger strongly disagrees with you on this - but you knew him as the kid who'd show up late for class, just to doodle or write in a notebook the entire time with no regard for what Mr. White was saying. And when it came to the tests, you'd sneak a look at his paper, curious to see how he spent that hour of silence - you were usually met with half-assed attempts at answering the question, or a completely blank sheet of paper altogether.
You couldn't blame him. Even you barely understood what was going on half the time. You just felt pressured to do well, and it quickly got you up to golden child status. You hated it - because while the pressure originated from you, it was soon coming from everyone else you knew and their expectations about your grades, whether they meant it or not.
You put your bag down under your place at your lab table. The room was set out in 3 rows of chemistry tables, all equipped with 5 gas and water taps, and sinks. There were 10 seats to each row, to make pairing up for practical assignments easy. Mr. White liked things to go quickly and smoothly.
You were one of the first ones in, and you don't expect Jesse to be in on time. In your 3 years at this school, he hasn't been on time for a single class. Except art.
Sure enough, about ten minutes into the class, Jesse bursts in through the door and you can't help but smile to yourself. He always arrives saying goodbye to his friends, who had presumably walked with him to his class, and he always seems a little more cheerful and upbeat after being around them. You also notice how Mr. White has stopped asking him why he's late. He simply (and begrudgingly) greets the student and continues with what he was saying.
Jesse never used to speak to you, but when the whole 'gay' thing settled and people got bored of talking about it, he started giving you an awkward nod when you made eye contact upon his arrival. He then graduated to a muttered 'hi', usually covered under the sound of his bag rustling as it came off his back, and then eventually got up to the point of saying 'what's up?' in a little more of a relaxed way, like he wasn't quite so afraid of greeting you anymore. You weren't sure why he would be in the first place. If anything, you were the one who was intimidated by him. Not in a way that you think he'd hurt you, but more just that... well, he's such a mystery. He's never seen talking to anyone except his group of friends, doing those little drawings in his notebook. Often, when you'd let your mind wander, you'd think about what it might be like if you could get close to him, and listen to him talk about those pieces of art while he shows you. But you don't let yourself think about it too much. The last thing you need is heightened expectations.
"Uh, yo? Hello?" Jesse's familiar voice mutters. You break out of your train of thought and can't help but feel embarrassed.
"Oh, uh... hey. Sorry."
"That's okay," he smiles a bit. This is the most you've interacted with him in your entire time at this high school.
You don't notice that he'd leaned in a little closer than you thought until he turns away to unpack his things. You don't pay attention to it, distracting yourself with note-taking.
The rest of the class goes by as usual, and so does the rest of the day, as much as it drags. You can't stop thinking about Jesse, though. God forbid you've got a crush on the guy, but that's really what it's starting to feel like.
You ignore the thoughts and the heart palpitations and unlock your front door, making a beeline for your room and shutting the door. You unpack the books you'd need for studying and attempt to get straight to it.
Attempt to.
There were two things on your mind. Jesse Pinkman, and the guy who lived next door. Your parents never gave you an exact reason why you weren't allowed to meet him - they simply said that "he's not a good influence on you."
As much as you appreciated all that your parents had done for you, you really wished they'd stop treating you like you were a child.
It takes an embarrassing amount of time consisting of nothing but you staring at a blank sheet of paper and a closed textbook to realise that you had no shot of getting any work done tonight. You just pack everything away and go lie down, putting your earbuds in and listening to music again.
The loneliness begins to set in again, and you sit up, knees against your chest as you stare at the ceiling. You're startled out of your tearful state as you hear your mother call you down for dinner.
You pause the music, take your earbuds out, and go sit down at the table with your parents. It was already awkward. Times like these made you miss when your sister was around, but she went away for college a couple years ago. You couldn't wait for it to be your turn.
"So," your mother begins, "have you started thinking about college applications yet?"
You try not to sigh too audibly and look down at the food on your plate. "Not yet," you say. "I'm not even sure what I want to do yet."
"You're smart enough to do anything you want," she smiles. "If you keep up that 4.0, you'll be fine."
You just mumble a 'yes' and keep eating. Because more pressure is just exactly what you need, isn't it? What exactly happens if you can't keep up your GPA? Nobody ever talks about that. Maybe they don't want to think about it. God knows you don't.
The meal time drags in the silence between everyone. Mom tries to make conversation, and Dad has been awkward ever since you came out. It feels like nothing will ever be the same with your parents again.
You eventually finish eating and ask to be excused. Once you get back upstairs, you decide to try again to study, motivated by the earlier comment from your mom. You get your notebook and your textbook out, and you finally get a bit of work done. It's not nearly enough by your standards, but the kid next door has started drumming again, and you've worked through as much as you can before you finally feel the need to go say something to his mom. She seems like a nice enough person from the few times you've met her - she's a gentle and kind lady.
You get up and put on your shoes again, heading next door and knocking.
"Oh! What can I do for you, dear?" your neighbour greets warmly.
"I'm just trying to study, and-"
"Oh, would you like me to go ask my son to be quieter?"
"That would be nice," you say politely with a smile. You hated doing this; you felt awful, but at the end of the day, it was disrupting your work.
"You should head on home. It's dark out, and you must be getting cold. I'll handle this, don't worry," she smiles and waves goodbye as you turn towards your own house to go back inside. You hear the neighbour's door shut and then close your own front door, heading upstairs into your room again. The drumming finally stops after a few minutes, and you find that you're able to work for a little longer. Time seems to pass in the blink of an eye now, and soon enough you're slumped over your desk, fast asleep with your chemistry textbook as your pillow.
You woke up the next morning a little later than you would've liked. It's not enough to make you late for school, but it is enough to throw your mind off completely. And on top of all this, your back hurts from being hunched over your desk all night. Suffice to say it would be a miracle if you got a meaningful amount of work done today.
You get ready for the day and head into school, going through your classes as usual. You get to chemistry towards the end again, and sit in your usual space. Jesse walks in not too long after you - a rare occurrence, considering he was on time for once.
"Wow," he says, quietly so he doesn't disturb the atmosphere in the quiet class. It was just the two of you, a couple of other students and Mr. White. "You look like hell."
You chuckle softly. "Wow, thanks."
"Yo, tell me. What happened?"
"Just fell asleep at my desk last night. Nothing interesting."
"Up late?"
"Studying," you respond, and he nods, like he was expecting that answer. You were pretty well known for being a star student.
The two of you go back to your usual silence and the class begins as usual. You can't help but wonder why Jesse is becoming so friendly with you all of a sudden, though. Not that you're complaining.
Despite this more talkative beginning, Jesse doesn't say anything to you for the rest of the class. He keeps his eyes on his pencil, once again drawing in his notebook. Mr. White has a disappointed but resigned look on his face as his eyes cross Jesse's desk. In the meantime, you can't help but steal a few glances at Jesse, part of you hoping to dispel those thoughts about liking him as anything more than a possible friend. However, this only seems to make those feelings stronger. You just wish you knew how to talk to him.
You try to focus on your work, and when you realise that isn't really happening anymore, you decide to go sit in a quiet spot in the school rather than going home. Back in freshman year, you obviously had your reasons to hide - so you'd spend a lot of your free time at school exploring the place. You'd found a few benches around the back of the school that never seemed to have anyone around (despite the fact that it always smelled of smoke), so you'd use that space to calm down, study, pretty much do anything you needed a quiet space for. It had proven very useful these past few years.
One earbud in and writing in your notebook, minding your own business, you're eventually startled by a familiar voice.
"Knock knock," he says, knocking on the wooden table. You look up - it's Jesse, lit cigarette between his fingers. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you here."
You smile a bit. "I could say the same to you."
"No shit, with the way you jumped up when I spoke," he teases. You look down.
"It- I didn't-"
"Oh, calm down, I'm messin'," he laughs. He leans on one of his hands, which was rested on the bench. "What brings you here, anyway? No rush to get home, huh?"
You shake your head. "Not really. I didn't get as much work done today as I wanted to, so..."
"God," Jesse sighs dramatically, like the thought of studying this much is painful for him. "You're all study study study. You gotta give yourself a break sometime, man."
"Wish I could," you laugh a little as you continue writing.
Jesse looks at you for a few seconds, and it makes you nervous. He's thinking about all those rumours from freshman year, how to bring it up without offending you. He's been wanting to for a while. But instead of saying what's on his mind, he just gently kicks you under the table. "You smoke?"
"Nah."
"All good man," he says. "You mind if I do, though?"
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" you laugh a bit as you look at the cigarette that he places between his lips. It's already half-smoked.
"Yeah, but I figured I should ask anyway. I'd put it out if you weren't. Maybe you got some kinda lung condition, you never know."
You can't help but smile a bit and shake your head. "I don't mind." There's a pause before you say what's on your mind. "You're a lot more considerate than I thought."
"Yeah? What's that mean?" he asks with an amused grin. "Should I be offended?"
"No," you say, shaking your head. "I just find you intimidating."
His gaze drifts away as he thinks about how he feels about that. "Huh. I get that." The silence grows, and it's awkward again. You continue writing, taking notes that Jesse glances at every now and then. "How do you even understand all this stuff anyway?"
You spend some time talking to him about the subject you were studying, telling him a few things and almost tutoring him, in a way. You look at your watch, not realising how much time had passed. "Shit, I should go home."
Jesse nods. "Oh. Alright," he says, trying to hide his disappointment. He was actually having fun learning about these things - or was it simply listening to you talk that he enjoyed so much? He didn't have the will to think about that right now. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he says with a hopeful hint to his tone.
You smile a bit and nod, waving goodbye and getting on a bus home. Jesse figured he'd stay a while longer.
Once you arrive home, you put your bag down and lie down on your bed pretty much straight away. You really didn't know what to think of Jesse anymore - not in a bad way, but the whole situation just confused you. Why wasn't he like everyone else? Why did he seem interested in you, rather than just asking about all the rumours? You hadn't had a proper friend in high school, so it definitely felt nice - but you also felt that you should keep your guard up, just in case. You've been screwed over once before.
Soon enough, another day at school passes by, the only difference being that you didn't have chemistry today, which meant the only time you saw Jesse was in passing each other in the halls. You almost wanted to say you missed him.
The drummer next door is at it again. You're just trying to study. You've lost count of how many times this has happened. You get up from your chair, put on a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You yell to your parents in the other room just to let them know where you're going and that you won't be long, and then you open the front door. It's not that late in the evening, but it's getting into the winter months now and the sun is setting much quicker, so it's pretty dark out despite it only being 7 PM.
You step outside and the night air hits you. You shut the front door behind you and head next door, knocking.
The drumming promptly stops, so you assume the kid got the message, but his mother always answers the door and you wouldn't want to be rude, so you decide to stay.
She takes an awful long time to answer the door, and you're getting a little cold. You're starting to feel awkward just standing here, but you hear a few footsteps and then you hear the latch click. The door opens, and you have to take a moment to process who you're seeing.
"What, are you stalking me now?"
"Jesse, what- you live here?"
"Yeah, and what?"
You narrow your eyes a little. "I just... didn't expect it, that's all. Um... out of interest, you got any siblings, or...?" you ask, your question trailing off awkwardly. There's no way your parents were trying to shield you from a sweet guy like Jesse. Although, that does sound like something they might do, especially after the whole keeping-you-closeted fiasco.
"A baby brother."
"Yeah, okay. Thought so..."
"Huh?" he asks, tilting his head.
"Nothing, nevermind."
He nods and thinks for a moment. "So... what's up?"
Your eyes widen for a second as you realise the reason you came over here. "I live next door, I was just gonna ask if you could tone it down a little. I'm trying to study."
"Oh. Yeah, my bad. So, um... I'll see you at school tomorrow, then?"
"Yeah, see you then."
To your slight disappointment, Jesse disappears behind the door as he shuts it. You stand there for about 30 seconds while you think about that, but the cold is really getting to you, so you go back home and go up into your room. When you look out of your window, though, you notice something.
The curtains of the window to your neighbour's house are open for the first time, at least that you've seen, and Jesse is staring out of it. He gives a wave and then closes his curtains again.
Weird, you think to yourself. This whole situation is weird, though. Jesse's lived next door this whole time? Really?
All the good grades in the world couldn't change how stupid you feel right now.
How the hell didn't you figure this out?