JESSE'S BIG BREAK (ORIGINAL BREAKING BAD FF) YAOI DONT LIKE DONT READ

(*≧ω≦*) IT TAKE ME LONG TO WRITE THIS >.< ID APRECIATE NICE COMMENTS TANK U

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Jesse’s torpidity was evident as he stood against Albuquerque’s backdrop of dust and debris. At this moment, he may have been indistinguishable from the floating rubble: a re-creation, some replica of Jesse. he walked on every day as if he were himself, the version that the Methheads had loved, that New mexico still revered. he thought of those gathered on the Texas city ports (he was from texas), squinting their eyes against the Sun. He considered, then, that he was the only organism in New Mexico, on any of the streets of Albuquerque, that could save all life. He had always been that Mr. White tempering had written his condition. In his death, he felt irrevocably free. Still, he mind waited for Him words. It could not function independently. his personality, his skills, his ambitions, dreams, relationships, his history, had all been engineered by Gus. He had never taken a step of his own. 

His life before he Awoke was wholly miserable – a cosmic irony from meth that prevented him from missing when he was briefly himself. He considered that even before he heard His voice, that he had been born a vessel for it. That, despite reason, the threads of creation had constructed the perfect life to carry all of existence on its back. Jesse figured that if his earlier years had been more tolerable, he might not have been so weak to His influence.

He loved Mr. White as he might love a physical mother. It was under His light that Jesse had found a small degree of purchase over his life. He had chosen to befriend the Meth dealers and even if this friendship was of His will, Jesse had still depended upon their comfort. Now, as he freely evaluated these bonds that he held, he noticed his hands were shaking. They had been taken by this wasteland. They – like the millions in the state of New Mexico would – fell to the concrete, to Gus. Laughably, Mr. White’s realization was one he was now having himself. The life that he can remember was a series of steps taken to prevent this, to land him here. A life that was not meant to be lived, but one that was meant to save. 

Jesse, despite countless affirmations and titles, was easily the least important being in the Universe. He was an image of the world, of all that is light and dark. He had fought for all of its people and never once for himself. Any prior act of self-defense on his part was, functionally, an assurance that he would live to this moment. That he might stand on the edge of the New Mexico-Arizona border, that he might sing a song of the future, Possibly Uptown Funk. And, so, it was a result of all of Jesse’s revelations that he stepped into the end. Finally free to choose, finally unburdened by the beating heart of all the New Mexico civilization – past and present – and stripped of his only comfort, Jesse decided that Mr. White was right.