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Jesse buried his face in his hands and let out a small groan.
He was used to Mr. White either fighting him on everything or just ignoring him, but it had never involved a due date before.
The novelty of Mr. Fring’s superlab was wearing off, and besides inflating his hazmat suit twenty more times, there wasn’t much else to do. With Victor lurking about, it just made Jesse more agitated. He began to flip through different excuses in his head, preparing for the henchmen’s reappearance. Suddenly, the once massive space felt like it was about to close in on him. He had to get out of there.
After stripping off his suit, he climbed up the spiral staircase, across the catwalk, and through the two doors that entered into the laundromat. As he opened the final door, a rush of blue hues and hot steam overpowered his senses.
The superlab and the laundromat were like night and day. The lab was silent, motionless, and bathed in red; like a body bleeding out. The laundromat was alive; filled with bustling workers and various machines animated with constant use. He moved through the traffic of people, until he found a quiet spot towards the side of the building. Lighting up a cigarette, he leaned against the concrete wall, and took a long drag.
The right side of his face still ached terribly from Hank’s recent assault, and the sun beating down on him wasn’t helping, but it was better than being inside the lab right now. He wanted to block it all out. Clear his head. He settled on taking another drag of the cigarette.
Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something.
A large bug, crawling against the cracks of the pavement, next to a few blades of grass that sprouted above. Jesse crouched down to get a closer look at it.
It was a Cicada; not a traditionally pretty bug, but undoubtedly interesting to look at, especially it’s transparent wings; like stained glass. This one had a large head made up of dirty yellow, and black. Its coloring transitioned to light brown, as one made their way down the thorax and abdomen. Its wings were clear, besides the leafy green veins that held them together. Jesse put his cigarette out and reached a hand towards the Cicada. Suddenly, its wings shut, startled by the man’s fingers closing in, but to Jesse’s delight it did not fly away, so he placed his hand next to the Cicada and waited patiently. Eventually the bug crawled its eight little legs in-between Jesse’s fingers, burrowing itself in the palm of his hand. He smiled.
Jesse found himself pleasantly distracted by the little creature, until he felt a looming presence next to him. He looked up to see another one of Mr. Fring’s henchmen standing over him;
Nacho.
Jesse was wary of Victor; his cold dead eyes and mute demeanor. But he wasn’t sure what to think of Nacho. He was quiet like Victor. He even had a nasty scowl plastered on his face to match, but there was a thoughtfulness in Nacho’s eyes that he didn’t see in the other. Paired with a set of long lashes, the gaze took on a softness that stuck out like a sore thumb when surrounded by a meth lab.
Jesse quickly flipped through the excuses he had thought of previously, figuring they might work on Nacho just as much as Victor. He settled for the “Walter had to go out and get special supplies” excuse.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get back downstairs, I was just-“
“What are you looking at?” Nacho said. His brow furrowed at Jesse, surveying his current non-meth manufacturing activity.
“Uh…” Jesse wasn’t sure what to say, especially to the puzzle standing in front of him. “A bug?”
The thought popped into his head that Nacho might step on it. Jesse hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t know why he cared. It was just a stupid bug.
Instead, Nacho slowly crouched down beside him, and studied the creature, just as Jesse had. He then did something that almost made Jesse’s mouth gape. He reached out his hand, placing it next to the Cicada, and let it crawl on him. Nacho watched as the Cicada made its way across his knuckles, all while not saying a word to the man next to him.
Jesse had already deduced Nacho wasn’t a man of many words, but it didn’t make the situation any less awkward. Finally, Jesse had to break the silence.
“It’s a Cicada, right?”
Nacho took his gaze from the bug and peered up at Jesse.
“Bosque Cicada, yeah.”
“Shouldn’t he be like in the trees or some shit?”
“Usually in cottonwoods or sycamores, around the Rio Grande Bosque.”
“Wonder why it’s over here.”
“Guess it got lost.”
The awkward silence returned for a few moments, but at this point Jesse didn’t know what to say. This time Nacho spoke up.
“Y’know that sound they make?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s like a special song. They use it as a mating call, but they have to attract the exact species, right? So, it’s different in every type of Cicada.”
Jesse snorted. “What’re you the Cicada whisperer or somethin’?”
Nacho raised his eyebrows at him, and Jesse wondered if he was getting a little too friendly with the armed henchmen beside him.
“Uh... like how do you know all this stuff?”
Nacho hesitated for a moment.
“My father used to take me around the Bosque. We would walk along the river. See all kinds of animals and bugs and shit,” His face became calmer as he spoke about this, and the tense muscles along his deltoids relaxed. “We would hear the Cicadas… and every time my father would tell me about their song.”
Jesse was dumbfounded that one of Gustavo Fring’s Henchmen was telling him this, but before he could even think, a lost memory poured from his mouth.
“I used to take my little brother to this park in our neighborhood, and we would find Cicada shells everywhere,” Jesse smiled. “Y’know cause they shed, right?”
Nacho nodded along. He was listening.
“We would take them home and show them to our mom to gross her out,” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, remembering the look on his brother’s face.
Jesse looked over at Nacho, to find him looking back; His gaze was an abyss. He felt his chest grow tight, so he paid attention to the bug once more. Nacho followed soon after.
The two men were engulfed back into the silence once again, but this time it was a welcome sound, drifting in and out of the song of the Cicada.
Nacho blinked a few times, slowly pulling out of the Cicada’s trance. He placed the bug aside and turned his attention back to Jesse.
“Don’t you got a batch to cook?”
Back to business as always. Jesse sighed, and stood back up, knees sore from his previously crouched position. Nacho stood along with him.
“Mr. White still hasn’t gotten back from-“ Jesse realized he had to be careful with his words, which he seldom had a knack for. “Uh, well I’m not exactly sure where … he said he was getting special supplies or something. I keep calling him, but he won’t fucking listen, so I’m just waiting shit out. I don’t know what to tell you, I can’t do this without him.”
“You mean he still hasn’t gotten back from the hospital? He’s over there cause of that DEA agent, right?”
“Yeah, how did you know- “
“Gus knows. He told us a bit ago,” Nacho said. He snorted. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore. If Gus really had a problem with this, you would know it by now.”
“Shit.” Jesse whispered.
“Gus’s probably over at the hospital too, ” Nacho added, and then furrowed his brow. “Why does your partner know a DEA agent so well?”
“He’s his brother-in-law.”
Nacho closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesse heard him curse a bit of Spanish under his breath, what sounded like ‘pendejo’.
“He’s the one who gave you the…” He pointed over to Jesse’s black eye, increasingly swelling up from New Mexico’s humidity.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Fuckin’ bitch.”
Nacho was quiet for a moment. “Can’t you try to do something…pretend to look busy at least?”
“Not with your little friend down there giving me the dead eyes,” Jesse said.
“What? The… dead eyes?” Nacho said.
“Y’know, Victor,” Jesse replied.
Nacho looked to the side, trying to hide the corners of his mouth quirking upwards, but Jesse could still see his secret smile. Nacho quickly masked his face with impassiveness.
“Go back downstairs. I’ll take care of Victor. Just try to do something other than blowing up your hazmat suit,”
Jesse’s eye widened. “Yo, you saw that?! What’re you stalking me?”
“I was patrolling, just like Victor was. Not my fault you were too busy acting like an idiot to pay attention,” Nacho said. Jesse swore he was snickering under his breath.
“Fuck you, not my fault you’re such a killjoy,” Jesse rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but snicker along with him.
His laughter died down once he realized he had no idea why this man was helping him. As far as he knew, Nacho had absolutely no reason to, unless he had some kind of an ulterior motive. He searched his mind for what it could be, but he came up empty-handed, so Jesse decided to be blunt.
“Why are you… uh… doing this?” Jesse asked.
Nacho was quiet for a few moments.
“I’m sure you’re aware Gus isn’t thrilled about you.”
“Pfft, yeah I’m not even worthy of seeing him,” Jesse rolled his eyes again.
“Gus might’ve preferred Gale, but Walter prefers you for some reason and that’s what should matter when it comes to cooking,” Nacho said.
“Wow, ‘for some reason’, huh? Fuck you, asshole,” Jesse said, but there was no malice in his voice. Nacho’s secret smile reappeared; easier to spot this time.
“What, you don’t prefer Gale?” ? Jesse said.
“I’ve worked with men like Gale before. They’re… not meant for this world,” Nacho said.
Jesse raised an eyebrow slightly but decided against questioning him any further.
“Well, thanks, I guess,” Jesse said.
Nacho shrugged. “No need to thank me. I’m doing this for me, not you. We’re all affected if this new arrangement doesn’t go… smoothly.”
“Yeah… that’s true,” Jesse said. He paused, unsure of how else to respond. “Well, guess I should be getting back downstairs.”
Nacho silently nodded, then looked at the bug once more, like he was being pulled back down into the Cicada’s soft tune.
“Y’know I saw a few trees on the other side of the laundromat. Maybe he’d enjoy it over there,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, Maybe," Nacho said.
Jesse leaned down, placing a few fingers next to the bug’s head, waiting for it to crawl on his hand. Once the Cicada was safely in his right palm, he walked beside the laundromat to the other end of the building, where he had previously spotted a few young sycamores.
When he got close enough to one of the lower branches, he placed his palm against uneven bark, and let the Cicada slowly make its way to its new home.
As he watched the Cicada crawl around the branches, he felt the same presence as he did once before, but this time it was oddly comforting. Nacho stood beside him.
“He’s where he belongs now,” Jesse said. Nacho’s shoulder grazed against Jesse’s.
The two men stood there for longer than they should have, and then parted ways.
As Jesse made his way back to the lab, he wondered about what Nacho had said about the Cicada before. Maybe he would find another of his kind, singing the same song.