Crossroads #1 - J.P
A Jesse Pinkman fanfiction
The drive to the store was dragging her down. Every mile pressed in, reminding her of the mess her life had become. Starting over again. Another job just to kill time. Another city. She’d left California behind—burnt bridges, wasted months living with her mother, who never missed a chance to remind her how worthless she was. She couldn’t even be mad; who wouldn’t be disappointed in a daughter in her twenties who couldn’t cover rent?
But now things were different, or at least they looked that way. She had a steady job at a law office. A famous one, too. Everywhere you turned, his smug face was plastered on billboards and benches: “You Better Call Saul.”
She pulled into the lot, parked, and climbed out. The car door was busted, so she had to lift it just right to make it shut. She headed inside, looking for a cheap painting for her apartment, her so-called apartment, more like a cubicle with walls. She also needed a box to haul the junk she’d decided to dump in her mother’s basement. The painting section took more than she thought it would. Out of all the options, the only color that looked good right now was Desert Rose.
She was halfway through the boxes section when she froze. There was a guy sitting on one of the boxes in the aisle, slouched and restless. When he noticed her, he stood up quickly. For a split second, her brain overloaded with recognition, memory, and disbelief. Jesse Pinkman was right in front of her, wearing clothes double his size. He broke the ice first.
“Yo… wait—you’re—hey, I know you, right?” His voice carried that awkward mix of confusion and shame, like he wasn’t sure where he’d seen me before.
“Yeah… I think we went to the same school,” I replied cautiously, trying not to overcommit.
Jesse’s eyes widened a little. “No way… wow… it’s been, like… forever, huh?” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends nervously. “Damn… I didn’t think I’d see anyone I actually knew here.”
I offered a small, unsure smile. “Yeah… me neither.”
He shuffled on the spot, looking at the floor for a beat, then back at me. “So… uh… what are you doing here? You, like… shopping for… stuff?” His words tumbled out, fast and uneven.
“Just some boxes… and a painting for my apartment,” I said. “Trying to start fresh, you know?”
Jesse nodded, but didn’t move closer, as if unsure he was allowed. “Yeah… yeah, I get that. Starting over… heh, I… I’m kinda there too. Well, trying, I guess.”
A beat of silence hung between us. I wanted to say something reassuring, but the words stuck in my throat. Finally, I said, “It’s… good seeing you, Jesse.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Yo… maybe… I dunno… we could, like… catch up sometime? Not here, obviously—this place is nuts.”
I nodded, a little smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah… maybe.”
He scratched the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot while holding the big blue plastic box. Then he hesitated, frowning slightly. “Yo… wait… uh… I’m terrible at this, but… what’s your name again?”
