Jesse lets out a relaxed smile as he steps back from the chair he finished making. So smooth, so much he can even see shines on it. Way more satisfying, and less risky than cooking meth… Jesse froze, and shook his head quickly. He imagines his newest customer's delighted grin to replace his thought. Making customers happy; that's what he loves most about carpeting.

"Nice. It's perfect." he said, nodding his head.

Jesse walks to the cash register, checking around for any customers. None, all he sees is his equipment and the hazy windows. Well, it's still early. At least he gets time to relax. None of his employees have their shifts yet.

Jesse gets on his chair, reaching for a newspaper on the desk. His eyes relax into going half closed, ready to read not so-interesting but good to know news.

His eyelids went straight back to wide open, his lungs getting heavier. His hands got so shaky and numb, he almost dropped the newspaper. Jesse swore his heart was going to stop.

"Meth…",

He didn't even read the rest of the headline when he threw it in the trash can. Jesse did everything he could to not have any memories coming back. He even imagined a wrestler punching his head.

"Breath, bitch. Breath, idiot. It's nothing, it's nothing. Calm down." Jesse thought as he recited the words that some anxiety self-help website listed as affirmations.

"Hi." a young voice snaps him back.

"Thank god for the distraction," Jesse thought.

He took a deep breath and stood up as straight as he could. Maybe he looks a little stiff. Still, he put on the best grin he could put without making it too big. He sees nobody, looking around until he looks down to see a boy.

The boy is around thirteen, with greyish eyes, just a few inches above half his height. He wore navy blue shorts, white sneakers, old socks, and was carrying a tan backpack. But what catches his eye the most is his red hair. He had rarely seen redheads, so it makes him think back of the few he met before…

"Hey there." the boy smiled.

Something about the smile looked so familiar. How small but curved it is, his head being tilted down, and moving around.

"Hi kid… Are you lost?" Jesse tilted his head.

The kid shakes his head. "My mom asked me to come here. She's coming soon to pick the chair."

A kid alone? Doing an errand? Jesse tightened his knuckles. The kid's parents better not be dumping their responsibilities on him. But he keeps hearing more stories of how parents are scared to let them off their sight for even a second. Well, at least he's getting independent. But if his parents dump their responsibilities on him… Jesse could barely suppress a growl. If there was a gun nearby, he would reflexively touch it.

The kid takes out a receipt from his backpack. Jesse takes it, reading the date and the order. Mary Childi, his latest customer. Yep, it's legit. Not some scam. His heart rate would rise whenever he couldn't find even pens running out of ink.

"Well, not my mom. Foster mom." the boy shrugs.

"Oh. Hope they are treating you well. Are you just going to… wait here."

"I guess." the boy said so quietly Jesse can barely hear it, but his smile is the opposite of someone shy enough to speak that volume.

"Kay, you can… look around if you want to, kid. Just don't touch the equipment. Don't want your fingers… Never mind. There's… a bunch of games you can play over there."

The kid said nothing, but Jesse chuckled. He had seen plenty of children, and they were not talkative with strangers. He can't blame them. But his eye contact was strong, the opposite of shy.

Jesse was about to turn around, but he felt a hand on his red jacket. So he turns back to see the kid giving him a long gaze. They stare at each other for a long time. Jesse waits for him to say anything. The kid's smile keeps curving back from a small smile to a straight lip.

"So… Do you remember me?" the boy asks, his smile curving back.

"What do you mean? Have we met?" Jesse asked.

"It's okay. I get it. That was a long time ago." His eyes are getting shiny.

"A long time? How long man?" "I don't know. Eight years."

Eight years ago? The years Jesse would give up everything to forget about? Every hair in Jesse's body rises, and he could barely hide his shudder from the kid. What if the kid is a kid assassin, just like Andrea's brother? Is the Neo Nazi sending a spy after him?

"Who are you again?"

"Here's a hint." the kid giggles.

He puts his hands on his face. Only moves his fingers to let Jesse see his eyes. Even though he was quiet, Jesse could still sense the giggling in his body.

"Peekabo."

Peekabo?

Jesse slowly drops his tool, letting out an echoing metallic sound. In his mind, at least. Probably playing tricks on him again. It has to be a dream.

"Peekabo." the kid said again, this time moving his hands fully. Just like how Jesse did.

It can't be. How is this possible? Just like how Walt said, there are no random coincidences… the universe is always interconnected. Just like Walt meeting Jane's father at a bar.

That was before he learned what he did to his beloved Jane… That bastard, why did he ever trust him?

"How do you remember me?"

"I may not remember you. But I saw you in my dreams."

"Dreams?" Jesse repeated in a raspy breath.

"Had them for years. Many times, it's just us meeting. Other times, I see you coming to my house, and watching me grow."

He has those kinds of dreams? Jesse tries to picture what the dreams look like, but no matter how many details he tries to put up, the images always faze because of how weird they are.

"How did you find me?" Jesse asked. He saw those movies of kids being geniuses, being clever enough to track down their long-lost parents. But how would a kid who is probably thirteen track him down? Let alone catch up after five years of neglect?

"I didn't. I just found you." the kid shakes his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here, and when I saw you, I had a feeling. Like we had met before."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know. Never knew my birthday. The social workers guessed I was around five."

Five years old. That was the age Jesse guessed he was. He thought the kid was a baby because it was hard to tell whether he was wearing a diaper or underwear. Man, that kid really had it rough…

"I'm so sorry." Jesse whispers.

"For what?" the kid tilts his head to the right, blinking.

Wait, why should he feel sorry? If he hadn't forced Spooge and his wife to get his money back, Spooge probably would have starved to death years ago. It's a good damn thing they died. Even if Spooge deserved it… No Jesse, it was his lady who killed him… But he was the one who demanded to get the money out of the ATM…

"Nothing. Nothing. You might… learn it better from the police in ANM." Jesse stammered, and the kid raised his eyebrow.

The memory came to him like a film. Then how Jesse ran away from the house, the kid in a huge coat, sitting for the police to take him to social services. When Jesse walked away, he had a hard time not looking back. When he did, he swore the kid almost stood up, and looked to where he was going.

He also remembered letting out a sigh of relief when there was no way he would be capable of taking care of him. But Jesse knew he would have thought of it during that time.

Jesse's thoughts go to a halt when he sees the kid putting his arms around him. It was neither tight nor weak, but it was the warmest hug he had in a long time. Didn't weigh practically anything like he looked like 10 years ago.

"Thank you. You saved me" Peekabo smiles, his voice softer but more wholesome.

"I did? I did…" Jesse whispers to himself. He remembered that night. Not just that, but everything that happened after. Everything that happened after, especially losing Jane and Brock getting poisoned.

The Peekabo kid had a chance for a better life… and he didn't. Until much later, after so pain, betrayal, torture, bad decisions, and fear…

Despite everything that was floating around his head, a part of his mouth was itching to yell out it's all the Peekabo kid's fault for what he went through. But he remembers he doesn't even know his name. And how could he blame a five-year-old for ruining his life?

Jesse finds his shaky arms wrapping around the Peekabo kid. Both of their hearts were warm, even without touching each other. He couldn't explain the feeling that was growing between each other.

"You're welcome. But I only did what was right.." he whispered to his ear, lowering his head down.

"I had a good rest of my life… kid" the Peekabo kid smiled. Jesse's eyes become heavy with tears, his temple curving.

Maybe there were some good things from that year.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I just couldn't get this happening out of my mind ever since I last the Peekabo episode. The urge got even stronger as I watched more of the show. I'm just taking a long break from writing Street Loud, and eventually I will go back to it. I would love it if you can message me what you think of this, including what I did good, and how I can improve.