Chapter Text
The arcade smelled like old carpet. Not necessarily dirty carpet, just carpet that had been stepped on by too many people and that was probably not a mixture of pukeish green and dark blue when it was first installed.
Badger was hunched over the cabinet, mashing buttons like he was seconds away from trying to strangle the game itself. His character on screen screamed in an 8-bit death rattle before it got blown apart for the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes.
“Quarter,” he said. “C’mon, hook me up.”
Jesse didn’t even bother to check his pocket this time. He knew it was empty.
“Dude, I gave you everything I had. Like, all of it. You’ve been draining me all night and I haven’t even played a single round.”
Badger looked over, his face lit in strobe flashes from the screen. He looked almost desperate, but not in a way that made Jesse feel sorry for him. Just pathetic. “That’s ‘cause I’m bad at this one. It's like basketball man you don’t just get good by not playing. I need practice.”
Jesse leaned on the cabinet next to him. “Basketball’s free,” he said. “This costs money. You being bad doesn’t mean I gotta go broke.”
The larger boy groaned like Jesse had just broken some kind of unspoken law of friendship, like he had taken a knife and plunged it into his back or threw him out of a moving car.
“It’s not like you have anything better to spend it on. What’re you saving up for? A pony? Come on. Be a pal. I don’t even get an allowance like you do. Your mom gives you like, what, twenty bucks just for existing? I get jack shit. Not fair.”
The smaller brunet let out a poor attempt at a laugh. More like a cough. “Yeah. That’s how it is. My parents love me sooo much they can’t wait to hand me cash. Gold stars on my forehead. Right.” He dug his nail into the cabinet and dragged down, leaving a white scar in the paint.
Badger wasn’t listening. He had this annoying habit of zoning out everything that didn't fit his current agenda. He just kept his eyes on the screen, like he was still waiting for a miracle quarter to appear in his hand.
“Man,” Badger said, shaking his head, “you’re being cold.”
“I’m being broke,” Jesse said.
For a while, they both just stood there, the arcade carrying on around them. A pack of little kids ran past, paper cups full of soda that sloshed neon blue liquid onto the carpet. Skee-ball tickets poured out of a machine like it was vomiting. A teenage couple leaned against a pinball table, kissing like they were trying to suffocate each other.
Then Badger suddenly glanced over the cabinet and spotted someone walking past towards them. “Yo, Adz!”
'Adz' slowed when he heard his name. For a split second, he looked like he had wanted to turn around or simply walk past, but Badger’s voice had that pull, and besides, the boy was frantically waving him over in a way that attracted a bit too much unwanted attention. So, he (reluctantly) shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders a little hunched, and made his way over to them.
Badger leaned away from the machine, grinning wide. “Adam, dude, you got a quarter? I’m dying here and Jesse’s holding out on me.”
Adam checked his pocket without a word and pulled out a coin. He held it out, palm open. “Yeah. Here.”
“See?” Badger said, sliding the coin into the slot. “That’s my guy right there.” The machine chirped awake, starting a new round. He slapped the side of the cabinet, glancing at Jesse. “Solid as hell. Adam’s good people.”
Jesse glanced at Adam and gave him a nod. He’d seen the guy before, around school and at the skate park, but they’d never actually spoken.
Badger filled the silence before it got awkward. “Jess, this is Adam. Adam, Jesse. You’ve probably seen him around. He’s cool. Lets us hang out at his place sometimes. ”
Adam gave Jesse the smallest smile, just a flicker.
“Like, one time,” Badger went on, hammering buttons as his character ran across the screen, “we had a couple of the guys over at Adam’s place. Whole night just smoking and watching dumb movies. Everyone else’s parents act like they’re running a god-damn police station in their living room but Adam’s parents are cool.”
“Seriously, Jesse, he’s one of the good ones. I hang with him sometimes when you’re busy or you’re in one of your moods. No offense. You’d get it if you came by.”
Adam’s shoulders shifted a little, a faint blush blooming across his face, like he wasn’t used to being complimented. “Don’t make it sound bigger than it is,” he said.
But Badger just laughed, waving him off. “Nah, man, you don’t get it. That’s exactly what makes it cool. You don’t make a thing out of it. ”
Jesse kept his arms crossed, eyes on Adam. He gave another slow nod, not saying much.
He was weighing it out. Badger trusted this guy. And Jesse trusted Badger more than he trusted most people. But he also knew that Badger could be too quick to hand out that trust as long as it came with some alcohol and a free place to waste time.
Shuffling slightly on his feet, Adam glanced at the blinking machines, then at the ceiling, then back at the floor. He fiddled with the hem of his jacket, tugging it once, twice, before finally straightening his posture a little, waiting to be dismissed.
“Look, we’re having a thing at Adam’s place next Friday. A proper little party. And you’re totally invited, right Adam?”
“Sure… any friend of Brandon is a friend of mine”
Jesse’s head tilted, but he didn’t answer right away. His parents would explode if he even mentioned anything about hanging out with Badger, let alone a party.
Badger’s character got blown up on the screen again, and he cursed under his breath. “Damn it. Anyway, man, don’t overthink it. It’s not like Adam’s gonna throw you out or make you sit in a corner. Just… show up. You’ll see.”
Adam glanced at Jesse, only briefly. He gave a small twitch of a smile before he looked back at the floor.
The brunet sighed. “I guess… I guess that I can sneak out or something. Or make up an excuse.”
Badger clapped his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it. You’re officially in, Jesse Pinkman.”
===
Jesse’s house sat quiet except for a buzzing porch light. He stood on the driveway, staring at it, board under his arm. The curtains were drawn in the front room; his dad was probably in there, reading the paper or watching something boring at low volume. His mom, cleaning even though everything was already clean.
“Sooo, Sunday afternoon then?”
Jesse glanced at him. “Sunday?”
“Yeah, dude. It’s not like we have any homework or anything. Or like… none that we’ll actually do. ”
Jesse rubbed at the strap of his backpack. “You know I can’t do afternoons cause' I have dinner.”
Badger groaned “Again? Jesus you’re what, sixteen? Who still forces that? Just ditch. It’s one dinner I’m sure they'll be fine without you.”
Jesse smirked faintly, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple. You walk out. You tell them you’ve got plans, maybe flip them off while smoking a cig then boom. They’ll be so shaken by your machoness that they’ll never make you stay late for dinner again.”
Jesse looked up at the porch light, squinting against its harsh glow and sighed a long 'I've already explained this to you a thousand times' sigh. “Amanda already ditches.”
“So?”
“So if I do it too, my parents will freak out. And when they freak out, it’s always Amanda who gets blamed. ‘She’s older’, ‘she’s supposed to set an example or some shit.’ Then she tears into me for getting her in trouble. And you know how much of a total bitch she can be when she’s ready. ”
The larger brunette groaned. “Your parents are sooo lame. Could you at least hang out after dinner?”
Jesse kicked at the driveway, the scuffed toe of his sneaker scraping against concrete. “ I guess.”
“Alright,” he sing-songed. “Make sure you eat everything on your plate!”
Jesse snorted. “Go home, Brandon.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
======
Jesse sat at the dinner table with his hands resting in his lap, waiting for his father to start whatever performance he had in mind for today. The plates were already set, with the roast sitting heavy in the middle of the table, beans cooling in a ceramic bowl, and bread rolls stacked neatly on a plate.
On the surface, it looked like the kind of spread you’d see in a magazine or a commercial, all warm colors and a family gathered around. The reality didn’t match. The silence was thick, and Jesse could already feel the tension pushing at the edges of the room.
“Alright,” his dad said, voice flat, “let’s bow our heads.”
Jesse lowered his eyes, hair falling forward. He could feel his mom’s eyes on him, checking if he was playing along. The scrape of her chair as she leaned closer, belly brushing the edge of the table. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, eight months of pregnancy pulling on her spine.
“Lord,” his dad began, and already it sounded wrong. The words came stiff, memorized. “We thank you for this food, for this family, and for the blessings of another week together. Amen.”
They started serving themselves. No one spoke, and the silence pressed down hard, broken only by the sounds of utensils and chewing.
Then the front door slammed open, the crash echoing down the hall. Music blasted through the house, the string of obscenities somehow heard through the tinny speakers on her earphones.
His dad’s face froze mid-bite. “Amanda!” he barked. “Turn that racket off and get in here for dinner!”
She didn’t even slow down. Just walked right past them, and without looking at him she raised her middle finger in the air.
“God damn it!” his dad roared, pushing back his chair. He half-rose before his wife put a hand on his arm.
“Not tonight,” she whispered.
He sat back down, fuming, stabbing at his meat with his fork.
Jesse didn’t look up. He chewed at his roll, dry in his mouth, and tried not to think about the fact that this was what passed for a family dinner in their house.
His father muttered low and bitter. “Ungrateful. Every single week.”
His mother shifted in her chair and rubbed her stomach. She didn’t look up. "She’s just being a teenager. Leave it.”
That opened the floodgates.
“Being a teenager doesn’t mean she gets to turn this house into a goddamn circus. She comes and goes when she pleases, blaring that garbage and dresses like she worships the goddamned Devil. No respect. None.”
Jesse felt his stomach tighten, but he stayed silent, his fork pushing beans into a messy pile.
“She’ll grow out of it,” his mother tried again. “You’re being too hard on her.”
His father barked out a laugh. “Too hard? The world doesn’t go easy on you. She wants to live like that? Walk in late, mouth off, play her little rebellion games? Not in this house.
I’ve seen the kind she hangs around with. Idiots standing around in the driveway like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Half of them look stoned already, and the girls—Christ. They all look the same. Hair in their faces, jeans painted on, like they’re proud of having no self-respect. If Amanda thinks that’s what she wants for herself, she’s got another thing coming.”
His mother’s eyes lowered. She rubbed her stomach again and didn’t speak this time.
“And Jesse,” his father said suddenly, his tone sharp as he pointed the knife across the table, “don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re not gonna turn into one of them either. You hear me?”
Jesse froze. His throat felt tight.
“Not gonna be some little fag parading around in skinny jeans, painting your face with your mother’s makeup, crying about how the world doesn’t understand you. That’s not you, Jesse. That better never be you.”
Jesse could feel his face burning, more out of embarrassment than anger, hating that, as always, he was forced to sit there and listen to the way the bile of his father’s words filled the room.
How he could feel his family growing apart each time he opened his mouth. His food blurred in front of him as he forced himself to nod slowly. “Yeah, Dad,” he muttered. His voice cracked slightly. “Yeah.”
His father seemed satisfied with that. “Good.” He returned to his plate as though nothing had happened.
The meal dragged on. The tension coiling tighter, until finally the plates were empty enough to signal the end. Jesse stacked his plate on top of the others and carried them to the sink. His mother whispered a thank you, her voice almost too soft to hear. His father didn’t acknowledge him.
Jesse grabbed his skateboard on the way upstairs and heard Amanda’s music shook the walls as he passed her door, the beat sharp and mocking.
In his own room, he dropped the board onto the floor and collapsed onto his bed. The ceiling loomed blank above him, a silent witness to all of it.
===
The skate park always looked different at night. The concrete bowls and ramps that felt washed out and ordinary in the daytime seemed sharper under the orange glow of the streetlamps, shadows stretching out long across the graffiti-scarred ground.
It wasn’t busy, not like a Saturday afternoon when kids crowded every edge of the place. By the time Jesse and Badger rolled in, the park was almost empty, the echo of wheels hitting concrete carrying far.
Jesse kicked his board up into his hands, his breath showing faintly in the cooling air. The sun had dropped a while ago, the sky bleeding into that dull shade of blue.
Badger was already weaving across the flat part of the park, arms out for balance, swerving around an empty soda bottle.
They skated for a while like that, not saying much. Badger constantly doing moves he couldn’t land, only to fall onto his ass with a laugh before popping back up. Jesse just rode the bowl edges, letting gravity pull him down and back up again. It was repetitive, but it filled the space in his head with something other than the echo of his father’s voice.
Eventually, Jesse slowed at the flat end and put his foot down. His shirt clung with sweat even though the air had gone chilly. He dragged his sleeve across his face and then noticed them.
Adam and Scott.
They were on the far side of the park, sitting along the edge of one of the ramps where the light didn’t fully reach. Adam’s posture was easy, shoulders hunched forward, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, his board resting by his side.
He looked like he was content to watch.
Jesse slowed his roll, letting his board clatter to a stop beside him. “He's here,” he muttered.
Badger followed his gaze, panting slightly. “Yeah. I normally see him here on Sunday’s.”
Jesse frowned slightly. “Should we like…go up to him?”
“Oh totally,” Badger said quickly, kicking up his board and tucking it under his arm. “Why don't we jerk them off while we’re over there too? Chill, Jess. He invited us to the party. It’s no big deal. You don’t need to go drooling over it.”
“And if anything ” he continued, puffing out his chest. “They should be the ones coming over to us, cause’ there's no party until Badger shows up.”
Jesse let out a short laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
Badger didn’t seem to care. He hopped back onto his board and dropped into the shallow bowl, trying a laser flip before failing miserably. He whooped at his own mess-up, loud enough that Adam glanced their way. He gave a short nod in greeting, not much more than a blink of acknowledgment, but it still made Jesse feel… strange.
Scott, on the other hand, said something to Adam and snickered. Jesse obviously couldn't make out the words, but common sense told him that it was probably some snarky comment made at their expense.
Jesse knew Scott by reputation. Not the worst guy in the world, just… pretty close. Always having something to say, always putting others down, like he got off on seeing people squirm. Which made it weird that Adam was close with him. Adam didn’t give off that vibe at all. He seemed the exact opposite actually—quiet, decent, the kind of guy who’d rescue a kitten from a tree or something equally chivalrous.
Jesse rolled his shoulders, not trying to think too much about what Scott could have said. He skated a few more laps before Badger pulled up beside him, grinning. “Break time. My lungs are feeling far too clean.”
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “What, you got weed on you?”
“No,” Badger said. “But I know you stole some cigs off Amanda.”
He smirked despite himself. “You can smell it on me, huh?”
“Like a bloodhound, bitch.” Badger nudged him with his elbow. “Cough ’em up.”
They made their way to one of the darker corners of the park, a little alcove near the fence where the lights weren't as bright. Jesse dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a bent pack he’d swiped from Amanda’s dresser. Only four cigarettes left, each one a little crushed from being hidden away.
Badger plucked one out like it was gold. “Hell yes. Amanda’s loss, our gain.”
Jesse lit his with the cheap lighter he always kept in his pocket. He drew the smoke in slowly, letting it scratch its way down his throat before exhaling into the night air. The taste was harsh and bitter, but it was the only thing that calmed his nerves.
Badger puffed hard on his, coughing on the exhale before grinning. “Man, your sister’s got good taste in smokes. Expensive shit.”
“Guess so,” Jesse muttered, flicking ash toward the concrete.
They leaned against the fence, sharing silence broken only by the scrape of someone skating in the bowl and the occasional shout of laughter. Jesse’s eyes drifted back toward Adam and Scott.
“Don’t you think that” Jesse said quietly, “Adam seems, I don’t know… too decent to hang with Scott?”
Badger blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth, watching it fade into the dark.
“Yeah, but that’s why it works. Opposites, right? Scott’s a dick, Adam’s not. Balance.”
“So, are we opposites then?”
Badger leaned back, head tilted toward the stars just barely visible through the city haze. “Nah, more like ‘two peas in a pod’ Just two devilishly handsome dudes cut from the same cloth. Skating at night, smoking like criminals. This is the life, Jess.”
Jesse gave a half-smile. “Pretty sure real criminals don't have to hide cigs from their parents.”
“Don’t ruin it,” Badger shot back. “Just let me have the moment.”