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The voices blurred around him, an argument that went through his ears but didn't quite reach his brain. The withdrawals were eating him alive, the numbness fading and the flashbacks overwhelming him. Gale's face filled with terror. Jane's cold body.
Jesse was sat on his couch, resting his chin on one raised knee, while his two... "co-workers" (he supposed the word was), stood across the room arguing. It wasn't the first time they'd fought over their different opinions and Jesse was certain it wouldn't be their last. Walter's ego and Mike's logic would always clash, and Jesse's own thoughts weren't being listened to, as usual. The two older men's personalities would never work in harmony.
Jesse barely knew what this argument was about anyway, he didn't really care anymore. He hadn't used any weed or meth since leaving his house that morning and with the amount he'd been using throughout these past few weeks: it meant that these extra few hours without taking anything led to disastrous consequences. And he was crashing back to the ground with nausea.
Usually the twenty year old could handle the long hours it took between leaving his house and returning, whether it was doing errands with Mike or cooking with Walter. But the two men had decided to come back to his house and form a plan. Which was pushing his "recreational activities" back a few more hours. In his painfully dizzy state Jesse could barely even remember who the bad guys and the good guys were anymore, what the issue even was. It was all mushing together in his mind. The panic creeping in as the bad memories surrounded and outweighed any positivity.
Jesse didn't know what was wrong with him. Was it a panic attack or withdrawals or just boredom as the verbal fight in front of him was very little more than history repeating itself.
The cigarette he was holding between his pointer and middle finger (lit a few minutes ago but completely forgotten about) was burning down to his fingers. The pain didn't really process in the man's mind. He eventually felt the distant tingling sensation of burnt skin and slowly looked down at his burnt red fingers. His dissociated eyes locked onto the floorboards as his mind swam with the nausea of bad memories, the memories he would ideally use weed to numb and alcohol to forget. In that moment the cigarette didn't matter, it was nothing compared to a joint.
He was so in his head that he hadn't heard Mike ask him for his opinion on their current situation. The lack of response made Mike and Walter pause and turn to the younger man.
"Jesse?" Walter asked warily, watching as the cigarette burned his fingers.
Mike, a raised eyebrow hiding his genuine concern for the kid, watched him too, as, completely zoned out, Jesse put out his cigarette on his exposed ankle. Chin resting on the leg's knee. The action was seemingly painless and way too casual, the level of the kid's dissociation was scaring Mike.
"Woah woah there-" Mike moved forwards and gently took the cigarette butt away. To assess the burn mark he lifted the kid's jean cuffs: only to see dozens of other suspiciously circular burn marks and scars. Most marks were healed over. A repeated action by a man whose self-worth couldn't be lower. Mike wasn't surprised at the coping mechanism, but his empathy and sadness for the kid was almost too much to bear.
Mike sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Jesse, gripping Jesse's shoulder in one hand soothingly, and using his other hand to lift the jean leg a little more, examining the severity of the situation. Now that he was closer to the twenty year old, Mike could hear Jesse's breathing, which was too fast. This was obviously a panic attack. Mike cursed himself internally, he should have noticed long before: the kid was never this quiet.
The stabilization of Mike's solid hand pressing onto Jesse's shoulder seemed to wake him up a little. His breathing slowed gradually and his glossy eyes managed to finally blink, eyes dilating as he focused on the blurry shape in front of him.
Jesse wondered why the blurry shape was talking to him instead of yelling at the other man like before. It was all confusing and his brain couldn't seem to settle, slow and sluggish like everything was underwater.
He just about heard his name after a string of nonsensical sounds.
"...hey, Jesse, can you hear me?", Mike shook his shoulder a little, gentle but firm, "You gotta say something if you can hear me."
He slowly opened his mouth and found it took a pathetically long time before he could make sound come out.
"Something." Jesse replied eventually, voice tragically quiet, the room focusing. He couldn't seem to get his body to move, too tired, he needed to take something soon before the shakiness and tidal wave of sickness kicked in.
Mike chuckled at Jesse's answer whilst Walter exasperatedly sighed behind Mike.
"Can you tell me what happened there?" Mike asked, searching the kid's eyes for recognition of his question.
"Uhm," Jesse started quietly, his voice not as strong as he wanted it to be, "I dunno."
"Panic attack?" Mike prodded.
Jesse managed to make his arms shrug, before pausing with an internal sigh and nodding very slightly, admitting to the fact that yes, he was pathetic and had let the scary memories take over momentarily. He usually didn't let them but it's not like he could have used his bong in front of two drug-hating adults, and there was no chance of doing a line, he was sure they'd murder him.
Mike hummed at Jesse's nod, "It's been a long day, how about you go and get some rest, we'll see ourselves out."
" 'Kay" Jesse mumbled, letting Mike help him stand up, before walking with Walter to the front door. Jesse started to head towards his bedroom.
He listened as Mike and Walter almost silently shut the door behind them, before loudly whispering at each other from outside. From what Jesse could make out from their poorly concealed conversation, it seemed Walter thought that Jesse shouldn't be left alone as "he's probably about to go and get high out of his mind", whilst Mike replied that "he's just tired, cut the kid some slack".
And even though everything in him wanted to do the former... the overwhelming urge to prove Walter wrong and Mike right meant that Jesse succumbed to the latter and laid down in his bed. He passed out almost immediately after praying with his whole being that, for at least one night, he wouldn't be haunted with nightmares.