Late Night

Breaking Bad: Late Night

Late night

I narrowed my eyes at the TV. My video game was seriously beginning to piss me off. With a sigh, I set my Xbox controller down and grabbed my pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Leaning back against the futon, I lit my cigarette, placing the pack next to me.

I took a deep inhale, the nicotine burning my throat and stinging my lungs.

I held the smoke for a moment than exhaled. It was getting late and sleep was hurting my eyes.

"Uhg..." I sat up to ash my cigarette when my phone went off.

I propped my cigarette between my lips and exhaled smoke from my nose as I grabbed my phone from the coffee table.

I flipped it open to see a message from Mr. White telling me he was on his way over.

I told him not to come to my house anymore. The old fuck was annoying and always seemed to bitch at me.

"No..." I groaned and leaned again to flick my cigarette against the ash tray.

Mr. White always comes over late and bitches. Rolling my eyes, I finished my cigarette and mashed it into the ash tray.

"Fucking bullshit." I murmured under my breath as I lied my head against the back of the futon.

Surely I wasn't in the mood to get lectured by some old science geek. Mike took me out today and I watched a man die right before my eyes. I had a bad day and just wanted to sleep.

I closed my eyes and almost immediately felt myself falling into a sleep I couldn't prevent.

I woke up an hour later to an abrupt knocking on my door. Rubbing my tired dry eyes, I glanced toward the door. /You gotta be fucking kidding me./

I sat up and started to light another cigarette, puffing on it a few times before actually standing up and dragging my feet to the door.

My black jeans clung low around my waist and would expose my boxers if it wasn't for my over sized grey jacket.

I tugged at my t-shirt and opened the front door, walking back toward the ash tray where I sat and ashed my cigarette.

"Do you know what fuckin time it is, man? Somethin up with the lab?" I brought the cigarette back up to my lips and inhaled.

I glanced over at Mr. White, my meth making partner, to see him in his usual getup; khakis, some fancy collared shirt, and that dumb light green rain coat thing.

"That's not why I'm here." His voice reminded me of car wheels on a gravel surface.

"Well, then what the fuck?"

Tilting my head back, I exhaled the smoke.

"I need to talk to you." Mr. White mumbled. For some reason the old fool never sat down, just stands there looking at me.

I glared up at him, "About what, bitch?" I tasted the bitterness on my tongue. "I don't got all night and want to fuckin go to bed."

Mr. White matched my glare. I broke eye contact to smash the butt of my cigarette into the ash tray.

I shifted my pale washed out blue eyes onto his intense brown pools, I could dimly see a reflection of my living room in his glasses.

"Alright." The man mumbled more to himself than to me. He walked over and grabbed my wrist, pulling me up. I didn't like his hands on me, "What the fuck is your issue, yo!?" I tried to pull my wrist away, but his grip was surprisingly rough and solid.

"Just come on." He yanked me forward and up the stairs in the direction of my bedroom.

My eyes narrowed and I couldn't help but to feel innocently confused.