Jesse spends Saturday morning packing the contents of his bedroom into boxes. He doesn't get very far though, because when he opens his closet and finds a collection of old comic books he loses about an hour of productivity. Jesse could never just clean his room; he had to end up playing with toys he rediscovered or reading books he'd lost underneath the bed or to the crevices between furniture.

This move is going to be such a pain in the ass with that kind of easily-distracted shit.

He's got his headphones in and iPod at full blast, so when someone lays a hand on his shoulder Jesse nearly jumps out of his skin. He makes a yelping noise he just knows is embarrassing and unmanly, and he stumbles over his own feet in panic.

Saul's standing there laughing his ass off. Fucker.

"You're a dick," Jesse spits out. "I thought I was gonna be straight-up murdered."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Some dude lookin' for a place to hit? Mr. White? Hell, I didn't think it was you."

"I have a key. You should expect spontaneous visits by now."

"You could'a texted me first, but, no, I guess scaring the living animal Jesus outta me was the better option."

Saul snorts and tugs Jesse close by the hem of his t-shirt. "You have such a flair for the dramatic." He covers Jesse's mouth with his own before Jesse can protest. They can't seem to keep their hands—or other body parts—off of each other since the ricin incident, like the faint glimmer of a future without the other terrified them into a life of constant, never-ending touches. Which, hey, Jesse's not complaining.

Saul breaks away reluctantly to survey the mess surrounding them. It looks like someone dropped a grenade in the middle of the room. There's boxes, papers, clothes, and various objects scattered everywhere. He gives Jesse a curious eyebrow lift. "Is there any particular reason for the lack of progress here?"

Jesse scrunches up his face in a frown. "Oh, and I guess you're all packed up already, huh?"

"Actually, I am." Saul grins at Jesse's disbelief. "Y'know you can hire people to do this for you if a grand packing adventure is beyond your skills. It makes things so much easier."

"Maybe I wanna go through all my stuff," Jesse says. "There's a bunch of shit I gotta get rid of anyway." He casts a surreptitious glance at the box in the far corner filled with junk.

"And how's that going for you?"

"Oh, it's goin' awesome. That's why everything's, y'know, all over the floor."

Saul kisses the frowny line of Jesse's mouth. "Your sarcasm is adorable. Do you want me to help you?"

"If I say no, are you just gonna stand around and watch?"

Saul thinks about it. "Yeah, probably."

Jesse laughs. "Bitch."

"Twink," Saul says before stealing a kiss. Jesse's knees go a little weak, and he briefly entertains the idea of dragging Saul onto the bed and sealing their hips together, but Jesse's got a hard enough time getting motivated as is. Best not to bring nudity into the equation.

Jesse gets his mouth free and says, "Alright, c'mon. We got work to do."

#

Jesse finds it's much easier to simply get rid of things he's too lazy to pack, which Saul absolutely calls him on. That doesn't stop Jesse from doing it though, because he doesn't need half this crap anyway. If he's going to start a new life in Sarasota, it only makes sense to discard the unnecessary pieces of his old life and begin anew. He doesn't need anything tethering him to the past.

Saul's lounging on the bed watching Jesse dig through the trove of junk in his closet. "I thought you said you were gonna help me," Jesse grumbles.

"I am helping."

"Really? 'Cause to me it looks like you're loafing."

"I'm offering moral support," Saul says, crossing his legs at the ankles. Jesse hurls a rolled-up pair of socks at him and hits him in the shoulder. "Ow! Just for that, I'm seriously considering rescinding my moral support."

"Ah, rescind this," Jesse bites back, flipping him off while his other hand pushes through the contents of a box.

Saul just tosses the socks at him and snickers when they bounce off of Jesse's head. Jesse's not too amused by Saul's teasing. "Dick," he growls under his breath.

"Have you had lunch? 'Cause you get a little grumpy when you're hungry."

Jesse crawls backwards out of the closet to get a glimpse of the clock on the night table. "I guess I could eat. But you gotta make me food, as penance for just sittin' on your ass the last couple hours."

"I don't know if I can endure the strenuous task of microwaving pizza rolls."

Jesse pushes himself up. "When did you get so lazy?"

"Almost dying kinda puts things in perspective," Saul says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Why waste energy when you don't need to, y'know?"

Jesse's navigating the proverbial minefield of junk strewn over the floor. "You better not be sluggish in other areas, or I'm gonna—" His foot catches on the inside of a box and sends him stumbling forward. Jesse manages to right himself and avoid face-planting onto the floor, but the contents of the box aren't so fortunate. Jesse grunts, exasperated as he kneels down. "See, if you had actually helped me..." He trails off when he gets a good look at the papers littering the floor.

Saul hops over the piles of junk and sidles up to Jesse. "You were saying?"

But Jesse doesn't hear him, because right now he's staring at the only tangible thing Mr. White ever gave him—failing marks in chemistry.

Saul kneels at his side. "Something important?"

Jesse opens his mouth, closes it. A flood of memories—some good, some bad—surges through his head like dam's been broken. "N—no, just, uh, just old shit." He sorts through the papers. Mr. White's angry handwriting leers back at him—Try harder. Apply yourself. Not even close. Then, Jesse finds the coup de grace: drawings he'd done of himself and Mr. White as superheroes, fighting evil through the power of chemistry.

Jesse's first instinct is to hide the evidence that he ever cared about Mr. White. He shoves the papers back into the box. "Yeah, just junk."

Saul lays a hand over Jesse's own, calming their fearful shake. "Hey, Jess', you don't have to get rid of anything on my account. I know you loved him. You don't have to be ashamed of that."

Tears prickle at his eyes, and his throat goes tight. "I'm not ashamed," he says, his voice quivering under the weight of the admission. "I just..." Jesse can't find the words—he's never been very good at that.

Saul sits on the floor and pulls Jesse into his arms. Jesse settles against the solid weight of his chest. "If holding on to memories of him is what's best for you, go ahead. I won't ask you to do anything that's gonna hurt you, kid."

Jesse stares at the papers. Mr. White's angry scrawl stares back at him. "He poisoned you. Why do I still give a shit?"

"Hey, if it was easy to stop caring about people who hurt you, everyone would do it." Saul presses a kiss to the back of Jesse's neck. "You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling, Jesse. Like it or not, he's a part of you now. This is what I signed up for."

Jesse wipes his watery eyes with his hand. He doesn't want Mr. White being a part of him, not now that he's starting over with Saul. Saul deserves to love a clean slate, and Jesse deserves to just let go, even if it hurts. Because Mr. White wouldn't give a second thought to throwing Jesse's things out. Why should Jesse afford him any more consideration?

Jesse shoves the box aside with his foot. "Whatever, yo. I'm done with him. You're the only man in my life."

Saul's mouth pulls into a smirk against Jesse's neck. "Why does that turn me on?"

"'Cause under that thin veneer of a sleazy, superficial, dirty-minded lawyer, you're actually...a sleazy, superficial, dirty-minded lawyer." Jesse grins and gets to his feet, offering Saul a hand once he's fully vertical.

"You do know me so well."

#

It takes them a couple days to get everything packed, which Saul blames entirely on Jesse for distracting him with smoky smiles and flirtation. They save the living room for last, and on the final night packing up the place, they spend it on the floor sharing a pizza and watching TV on Jesse's laptop. It's like a grown-up slumber party.

"Be honest," Saul asks. "You gonna miss this place?"

"Not really," Jesse says around a bite of pizza.

"Seriously? You've lived here for years. Not feelin' anything?"

"Yeah, well, he ruined it." Jesse likes that he doesn't have to say the name anymore—Saul just knows. "Right from the beginning. Emilio and Krazy-8, the meth lab in the basement... Even with you here, the whole place just feels...haunted." His parents could remodel and repaint all they wanted, but there had been too much death here, soaked into the floorboards, into the foundations.

Saul nods like he understands. "That's gonna put a dent in the resale value, huh?"

Jesse huffs a laugh. "For real. But"—he peels the crust apart, stuffs a piece in his mouth—"that doesn't mean I don't have good memories here. Remember when you showed up after I bought the place? What kind of housewarming gift is a cactus?"

"Would you rather I showed up with flowers?" Saul jokes.

Jesse grins. "Maybe, yeah."

Saul chuckles, and he goes quiet for a moment before he says, "Would you laugh at me if I said I actually considered asking you out back then?"

Jesse snorts laughter, his nose crinkling. "Yeah, totally." Then his expression softens. "Why didn't you?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I thought it would be in bad taste."

Jesse gives him a thoughtful look. "You should have. Would'a been nice."

"Really? You wouldn't have said no and slammed the door in my face?"

"I was lonely. Why do you think I went back to him?" After Jane died, Jesse needed a distraction, and Mr. White offered one. If someone else had put their hand out for him, Jesse would've had a hard time saying no.

Saul smiles sadly, perhaps wistful over a missed opportunity. "Well, I'm glad things turned out the way they did. I mean, not so much the poisoning—or the punching—but all the other stuff, the stuff with you, yeah, I wouldn't change a thing."

Jesse watches him with awed eyes. "How are you even real?"

Saul links an arm around Jesse's waist, leans back against the couch and brings Jesse with him. "Someday you're gonna stop being charmed by my every word."

"But today is not that day," Jesse says, cuddling closer. He devours half of his slice of pizza before he says, "Hey, how long were you actually into me anyway?"

Jesse watches Saul's face go impossibly red. Is he embarrassed? Because that would be hilarious. "C'mon, kid. You got me. Does it really matter?"

"I wanna know," Jesse says. He might be whining a little, because he knows how Saul responds to that. "Tell me."

Saul's mouth does a frowny thing while he debates answering. "Alright, I might've—I might've had a tiny—and I mean microscopic—crush on you from the start. I mean, just in a purely shallow aesthetic sense."

Jesse can't not laugh at that, because "the beginning" for them was Jesse pointing a gun in Saul's face. "Seriously? You're into some kinky shit."

"Look, it's not entirely my fault. I was in a state of anxiety and panic, and maybe the signals got mixed up and I misattributed that state to being near you."

"Instead of the gun in your face?" Jesse's just fucking with him now.

"I knew you weren't really gonna shoot me," Saul says, rolling his eyes. One look tells Saul Jesse's not buying his story. "You're attractive, okay? And I'm kinda shallow. It's a recipe for disaster—or embarrassing anecdotes."

Jesse's thankful he didn't develop an attraction to Saul until after Jane. It's almost as if their relationship evolved as it should, aligning perfectly like an eclipse. Had either one of them taken longer to feel for the other, maybe Jesse would have caved and become lab partners with Mr. White. By that point, would it have been easy to disentangle?

Jesse leans against Saul's arm and finishes his pizza, savoring the cheese hidden inside the crust. "Well, I'm glad you finally grew a pair and asked me out," he says, his mouth full.

Saul's brow knits in confusion. "You asked me out."

Jesse smirks at him. "I know."

A mischievous smile grows on Saul's mouth like a weed. "Alright, kid, then let me be the first to ask you out when we get to Florida. I'm calling dibs. There's a couple great restaurants near our place. Your pick."

"Deal."

#

They spend the night on the couch, limbs and bodies tangled together in various states of undress. The sound of the doorbell slices through the hazy fog of Jesse's sleep. He blinks awake and climbs off of Saul, standing on shaky legs as he finds his discarded pajama pants and t-shirt. He's pulling his shirt over his head when he answers the door. "Yo."

Jesse's not expecting to see his little brother Jake standing there. Jake narrows his eyes. "Your shirt's inside out. And backwards."

Jesse glances down and notices the shirt tag sticking out at a jaunty angle. "Yeah. It is." Oops.

"Were you guys naked in there?"

There's really no point in denying it. "Sorta."

Jake makes a face. "Gross."

Jesse sticks his head out the door, searching for one of his parents' cars. "Kinda early. Did Mom and Dad drive you?"

"I rode my bike," Jake says, and Jesse notices that the bike's right there on his doorstep. Man, his observational skills are shit in the morning. "Thought I'd say goodbye before you leave." He shrugs like it doesn't mean anything.

Jesse smiles. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm gonna miss you too."

Jake smiles back, but it's awkward around the edges. He reaches into his bike basket and takes out a rolled-up piece of paper. "I made you something."

"Oh yeah?" Jesse takes the paper and unrolls it.

"I'm not really an artist like you, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Jesse gets a good look at Jake's present: it's a drawing of a college degree, complete with Jesse's name and everything. He grins, then he laughs, because this is awesome.

"That should do 'til you get the real one."

"Totally. This is ace, man. Thank you." Jesse brings him in for a hug, and Jake doesn't even hesitate. "Hey, maybe sometime you could come chill with us, hang out at Disneyworld or Sea World or whatever."

"If Mom and Dad let me go," Jake mumbles.

"Do they even know you're here?"

"No." Jake laughs. "They're gonna be pissed."

Jesse chuckles, rubs a hand through Jake's hair. "Hey, c'mon, I'm the troublemaker in the family. Go on, get outta here before they find out you're gone."

Jake pulls his bike out of the walkway. "See ya, Jesse."

"Yeah, you too." He watches, waits for Jake to climb onto his bike and pedal down the driveway, disappearing out of sight. "Have a good rest of your life, kid," Jesse says before heading back inside.

Saul's tugging his pants over his hips when Jesse shuts the door. His hair's messy in a way that looks almost natural. "Was that your brother?" he asks as Jesse moves closer.

"Yeah, he just dropped off my diploma," Jesse says, unrolling the drawing so Saul can see. "Looks like I don't have to go to school after all."

Saul gives him a warm smile. "Your family is surprisingly normal. I'm not used to dating someone with relatives who aren't crazy."

"That's 'cause I'm the crazy one," Jesse says, tilting his head a little.

Saul can't resist covering Jesse's mouth with his own. "True, I've never dated anyone who cooked meth. That's a little wacky, right?"

"What did you think I was talkin' about?"

"Your rather questionable wardrobe, your taste in music, how much you know about zombies..." Saul thinks for a moment. "Actually, the zombie thing should be higher on that list."

"You own a velour tracksuit," Jesse says slowly, like he still can't believe it himself. "You got no right shittin' on my choice of clothes."

"Owned," Saul corrects him. "Past tense. You're not the only one who used this move as an opportunity to clean out the closets."

Jesse links his arms around Saul's hips. "Oh yeah? Did you find your heterosexuality in there too?"

Saul snickers. "Oh my God, you are adorable when you're trying to make a joke." He ruffles Jesse's hair and kisses his mouth.

Jesse doesn't mind failed jokes when he gets a kiss out of the attempt.

#

Jesse volunteers to drive the first half of the way to their new place, which Saul finds slightly suspicious, but, whatever, he's not going to argue. It gives him time to rest up for his half of the drive anyway. He gets pretty comfortable in the passenger seat, catching a few short naps before he feels the car roll to a stop.

Saul blinks his eyes open and looks around. "Why the hell are we in the middle of the desert?" He thinks that's something he should say out loud, because, really, what the fuck, Jesse?

"Just a pit stop. Don't worry about it. You got a light?"

Saul pops open the glovebox and hands him a matchbook emblazoned with his name and office number—both of which are obsolete now. Jesse smirks. "You don't even smoke."

"You do," Saul says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world that he'd have matches in his car for his boyfriend.

Jesse slides out of the driver's seat. He hauls a box from the trunk, sets it down some distance away from the car. He strikes a match and drops it. The box erupts into long tongues of red and yellow, flames dancing against the scorched earth. Jesse stands back and watches. Saul wishes he could see the expression on Jesse's face, see if he's regretting burning all tangible ties to Walter White. Christ, it's like something out of a Taylor Swift song.

But Saul understands why Jesse needs this. Destroying these things is the final farewell to Jesse's old life entangled with Walt.

Jesse stands there as the flames climb high and smoke billows and diffuses into the sky. Slowly, the papers crumble into dust along with the box that holds them. Soon there's nothing but a pile of ash and embers on the barren dirt. Nothing to prove Walter White held any power over Jesse but the scars in his head.

Jesse stamps out the dying fire and heads back to the car. "Alright," he says as he slides in, "let's go."

They leave Albuquerque behind with new names and a new start, with hopes and dreams that rise like smoke over the last remnants of Walter White in Jesse's memory.