Since one guy moved next door to the apartment your father was renting out, life has become a little more interesting; a little shabby, in baggy clothes and with a mess on his head and in his thoughts. Jesse.

"Jesse Pinkman. Just Jesse." his first words to you, when your answer was a simple “no smoking, no noise.” and the keys to his new apartment held out in your palm. Now the stars were shining in his eyes.

And then, he didn’t want to lose you, and you, in turn, loved his stars. You've become so foolishly, looking at each other's old drawings, watching TV on the floor with a cup of chips between you two. But you didn’t want your dad to find out that because of Pinkman, you started smoking weed again and sleeping with him. But for the first time, you felt good with a guy in every way. Perhaps it has to do with his stars.

The two of you are lying on a mattress already in your apartment and blowing white smoke into the ceiling. It's a little stuffy and wet here, but you're as happy as two cats relaxed in the sun. In your case it was weed.

"I want to spend the weekend on the moon." you say thoughtfully into the void, but this attracts Jesse, who turned his head towards you.

Now you are both sober, but you are sitting in an empty cafe with a stupid interior that is trying to look like space. It's not the Moon, but the Star sits in front of you. You are His Universe. It’s getting dark outside, but you’re in white light, which is annoying. It doesn't matter now, because Jesse grabs every opportunity to see the smile of the whole Universe.

"There are Moon Burgers here." He rubs the stubble on his cheek, looking at the menu. "It sounds like they're bringing us cold coals. What do you think?"