makinglies | There are no cats in America

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There are no cats in America

Moving to a new country is difficult but if you're a child it seems impossible. True, things had been terrifying with the bombings and soldiers and the news of that their government had been doing behind the country's back. Thirteen years old, but Albert still reads the news, still listens to the radio. Soon after they're on a boat, crammed in with other emigrants chattering in a cacophony of languages, pushing and shoving. There were other children, but mostly Albert opted to keep to himself, helping his mother but otherwise holed up in their tiny shared cabin and waited to see the spines of Lady Liberty's crown welcoming them to what his mother calls "a land of new opportunities". Albert, always a practical child, just hoped it would be a land of fresher air.

It's been a few months since then. They'd arrived at the start of summer with New York City sweltering. With his mother working two jobs and a little saved up, they'd managed to get a small fan and some other things for the little apartment, but despite the hardships they'd managed to make a nice little life for themselves in this new country. Their community on the lower east side is friendly and breathes of home in Dresden, or so Albert feels. He even made friends with the old man who runs the bookshop on the corner, his son having been claimed by the war on the side of the Allies. He'd also been named Albert, and the man would often reminisce in German and sometimes share the haribo candies he'd always have around. He may be the only friend Albert had made, but he was content with that.

Even so, as the weather turned colder and fall set in, Albert's mother enrolled him in school. Albert had always liked school back home, strict as it was, but here in America it seemed all the other boys were so loud and tall and frightening. He'd mostly stayed away from other children since arriving, but now he's been thrown in the front of a class and as the teacher pushes him to introduce himself to the room every eye is on him and he can't help but fidgit and look anywhere except at all the unfamiliar faces.

"Ha-hallo, I-I am Albert Heinrich..." He trails off, brutally self conscious at his accent and flushing a red which he knows reaches his ears. The teacher - Miss Jones - waits for an interminable moment to see if he'll say something else, then simply shoos him to an empty desk with some annoyance and begins to write the day's lesson on the blackboard. Safe for the moment, Albert sinks as low as he can in his seat and pulls his oversized newsy cap down around his ears in an attempt to hide the fact that they're still pink.

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Jet was drifting away.

It's not something Albert could really put his finger on when, but suddenly he noticed his best friend wasn't around like he'd used to be. They still saw each other at school, most days anyway, though Jet seemed to be cutting out earlier and earlier. He didn't wait for him after piano tutoring anymore, didn't ever ask if he wanted to go to the comic shop or the park. It makes Albert's insides twist uncomfortably at the distance, and with worry.

He'd seen the bruises sometimes, when Jet would take a jump shot during basketball and his shirt would ride up, or when he'd come in with a black eye in the morning and no one had seen him fighting the day before. Something was going on that Jet wasn't telling him, and he would bet a week's worth of lunch money that it had to do with Leo and his gang.

Leo'd been lurking around a lot the past few months. He was much older and a drop out greaser and it made Albert's skin crawl just to be anywhere near him, but Jet had decided he liked Leo and the last thing Albert wanted to do was get Jet angry at him. That seemed like a fate worse than death. So he just conveniently found something to occupy himself with whenever Leo came around to peer over the fence and offer them smokes through the chain link.

Today had been the worst. He and Jet had fought. Nothing knock down, drag out but Jet had snapped at him when Albert pushed harder to know why Jet's arm was a patchwork of band-aids and angry red scrapes. Albert had been left to finish his lunch alone and when the bell rang, Jet walked right out the door without even a 'see you later'.

What the heck had he done wrong? He'd just been worried. Jet had no real reason to get so upset and this is the last time Albert's going to take it sitting down - he decided in the middle of piano practice, slamming his hands down on the keys in a dissonant scramble and unfolding from the bench. He's grown in the past few years; not quite Jet's height but much taller than he was, and broader too. He's taller than his piano teacher anyway. "I have to go. Thank you for the lesson, I'm sorry."

He hurries out leaving a bewildered teacher behind.

It's not hard to figure out where Leo's taken Jet. Jet had been talking about it for days, enthusiastically singing the greaser's praises and those of his car, a chromed out Chrysler with fins and rims and the works. Sometimes Albert had to wonder if Jet really liked Leo or just his ride. Still, with something so flashy it wasn't hard to track down after a small string of questions to bystanders.

The car is parked in a little back alley between tall buildings, casting a heavy pall over the area. Dumpsters from some restaurant line the brick and the stench stings Albert's eyes as he turns the corner, trying to hold onto his anger from earlier in the face of seeing the car shake and movement in the back seat.

Oh...

His heart sinks as some things click into place, but the anger doesn't fully have time to seep out of him before a muffled desperate cry manages to carry to his ears.

"Stop--Don't do this!"

It's Jet. He knows it's Jet and his books and bag are left in a heap at the mouth of the ally as Albert runs full tilt to the car. The door rattles once as he wrenches at the door handle, then the lock buckles under the strain and flies open, the silver-haired boy already reaching into the car to yank Jet out, spilling him unceremoniously but safely onto the pavement in whatever state of undress he happens to be in.

There's not even a pause before Albert swings around and embeds his knuckles in Leo's nose with a ferocious cry and without a warning.

Luckily, Leo hadn't gotten far in undressing Jet, he was more exposed than the younger teen having yanked his pants down first before undoing and working at Jet's. It would have been the first thing he'd have attended to if it weren't for the fact he was left stunned where he'd landed on the ground.

Nearly half a decade together and Jet had never seen Albert throw a punch, he wasn't even convinced his friend knew how, but by the sounds of pain coming from the Italian boy and the blood beginning to seep through the fingers clutched over his face, Albert had either been holding out on him or had some impressive beginner's luck.

But then there was hate and rage in Leo's eyes that tore at Jet's insides and reminded him of just why he'd never seen Albert throw a punch: Jet was always doing it for him and if this turned into a fight...he doubted Albert could hold his own and Jet knew he was powerless against the older boy. That much had already been proven to him.

Nevermind why he was there when he was supposed to have lessons, if Albert hadn't been there...Jet felt like throwing up at the thought.

He staggered to his feet and refastened his pants before throwing his arms around the shorter boy to hold him back. Even after everything, his hold was more protective, a sign he was still trying to protect his friend even while he was the one being protected.

"Albert, stop, we need to go-"

Edited 2014-01-22 07:51 (UTC)

"If you come anywhere near him again, it'll be more than your nose bleeding, schweinhund." Jet may be holding onto him protectively but the German's voice holds not a trace of fear or even fire. It's all ice, through and through. The sort of ice that causes cars to skid and ships to sink, that boys like Leo may fall through and find it solid above them before they can scramble out of the freezing water. The kind of ice that bites. And takes limbs.

Leo may be worthless, but he's not stupid. When Albert grabs Jet's arm and hauls them both back for the street, he doesn't follow.

Knuckles bleeding from just how hard his fist impacted with Leo's face, Albert picks up his bag and his books and keeps them walking, staying on populated streets. He's learned quite a lot about bullies in his last for years, despite Jet's attempts to protect him, and he knows they always try to get you alone.

That and he's afraid he might punch Jet too if he didn't have people around to stop him. Or something else.

"I knew that guy was bad news from the moment we met him." He still sounds cold, words hissing frost through clenched teeth. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I..." He didn't know. He did, but he didn't. He'd been thinking how he'd just wanted a place to fit in and a group of people to call family, but how was he supposed to explain that when he'd never once told Albert about why Jet's family wasn't good enough. That's why they'd fought.

Albert had just been asking after Jet's messed up arm out of concern and Jet had thrown it and his anger back in his friend's face. The one friend he had.

He'd gone looking for a family while forgetting he already had one.

"I should've listened to you. Al...I'm sorry."

Sorry for choosing the people he'd known a couple months over the person he'd known for the last four years. Sorry he'd nearly slept with some scumbag when the only person who honestly held his attention was currently attached to his arm and obviously beyond pissed with him. Sorry for not telling Albert the truth for so long that he took out the fact the other teen didn't know Jet's reasonings on Albert.

"Damn right you should have listened!" There's a spark this time, something bright and burning in the winter of Albert's discontent. "What the hell, Jet? Why would you put yourself in danger like that? Why would you keep going back to someone who hurts you? I would never--"

The realization hits Albert like a tank and stops his words dead, color rising in the German's cheeks. He faces front again, mouth a tight and quivering line as he keeps striding towards home. It's not too far, thank goodness, because he's afraid he already said too much and a lengthy walk would just make it easier for Jet to question him. Still, he only let go of the redhead's arm when he needs to fumble for his key.

"The first aid stuff's in the bathroom. My mom won't be home until late but there's food in the refrigerator." He takes that opportunity to separate for the moment and clear his head, stomping to his room to dump his books on the floor and moodily kick off his shoes. Now that the adrenaline has worn off all he has left is a hollow fluttery feeling in his stomach, aching and bleeding knuckles, and the worry that his friendship with Jet is somehow on the line.

There was so much thrown at him at once that Albert is spared of questioning after his outburst and left to retreat to his room without argument.

It had never occurred to Jet that Albert might think that the few bruises he'd caught sight of were caused by the Leo because they hadn't been. He almost said something about it not being the older boy, but a combination of realizing he'd be faced with the question of 'who' and the fact Albert had cut himself off.

What was the other half of that sentence? Albert would never stay with someone who hurt him? Jet certainly hoped he wouldn't...or did he mean he wouldn't hurt Jet like that? Jet knew that.

It was becoming apparent Albert was one of the few people close to him who didn't.

Jet went to the bathroom, got the first aid kit and followed the German to his room. "Let me see your hand." He'd gotten better at patch jobs thanks to his dad, so it only seemed fair that he attend to the older boy's hand.

The late afternoon light doesn't quite reach the small window in Albert's bedroom thanks to the buildings surrounding, so he's turned on the light and his face is cast in gentle shadows from his perch against the head of the bed, shoulders hunched in a sullen posture, occasionally nursing bruised knuckles. When Jet comes near to ask for his hand, Albert merely thrusts it towards him without looking.

Silence reigns for several minutes, Albert trying not to wince at the iodine burning his hand. He watches Jet's long fingers in silence until he can't quite stand it anymore. "Don't go around with Leo anymore."

Jet worked carefully but thoroughly, being gentle when he could and firm when he needed to be. Albert's mom was sure to notice at some point and while he wasn't sure what Albert would tell her, Jet was sure she wouldn't be happy regardless; he needed to be thorough enough to be sure nothing would get infected, it was the least he could do.

"It wasn't him, you know. Leo never hit me." He'd never done anything to Jet until tonight...but what he'd tried to do was enough that Albert hardly had to say anything for Jet to listen.

"I won't, though. I'll take different ways home and to school and it'll blow over." He hoped so, anyway, his apartment was in the 'Little Italy' section of the city and that was Leo's gang's turf so he'd have to tread lightly. That wasn't worth mentioning, though.

He finished bandaging Albert's hand and his fingers lingered a moment while he tried to gather what was going through his head so he could say it right.

"Thank you...for saving me. I don't think-- If you hadn't--" No matter how much he tried to gather, his thoughts were like sand escaping through his fingers and he couldn't get them past his lips. He shook his head and let go of Albert's hand. "Just...thanks."

"Then I'll walk home with you. Leo's gang basically owns Little Italy, he's not going to leave you alone unless we do something." More likely he'd jump Jet to get at Albert now than Jet personally. Albert's put himself on Leo's radar as someone stronger than he is. He'll be looking to even the score.

"But if it wasn't him all this time, then..." He doesn't let Jet pull away, grabbing his hand even though he's not entirely sure why. He wants the contact, mostly. He doesn't want Jet to withdraw anymore, or treat this like it's no big deal.

His best friend is getting hurt. It is a big deal.

"Who's hurting you?"

That cold grip of fear tightened around his heart and made his mouth go dry and cottony just from the thought of telling Albert the truth. He was fully aware that his fears were unfounded, it wasn't likely that he'd tell Albert and then the other boy would decide Jet was too weak or pathetic or useless and abandon their friendship, it wasn't likely that Albert would suddenly hate for whatever reason, it was impossible for things to get worse when there'd be no way his father would know he said anything and there was no way the violence would suddenly extend to Albert just because he knew.

But he was still afraid. There was a reason Albert had been invited to Jet's place all of once in the last few years, he would rather either of the first two options in which Albert never talked to him again than see his best friend on the receiving end of his dad's drunken rage.

Why couldn't Albert just leave it? Unfortunately, they were both pretty stubborn when they wanted to be and Jet knew he wouldn't leave it if the roles were reversed, so he was left staring at the hand holding his and wishing he could find some way out of this.

But there wasn't, not without outright leaving...and the way he'd been acting the last while on top of their argument earlier just left him with the feeling that Jet leaving really would spell the end of the only friendship he still cared about.

He sighed, his eyes glued to their hands rather than travel anywhere else.

"It's not a big deal, it's been going on since before I met you." But it had been easier to hide back then, it had only become more evident recently because his father's ire towards him seemed to increase the older he got making Those Nights more frequent and more violent.

"I mean...he lost his job, I'd be upset too and he's never gotten a new one so he's just mad all the time but..." He was making excuses. "It's my old man. My mom's off working all the time so it's just me and him a lot and he's already at the bottom of a bottle when I find him--"

He stopped himself, shaking his head again as if to say 'it's not a big deal' but otherwise completely still. He was waiting and trying to ignore that sickened part of him that hated that he'd just tried to make excuses when he knew now that there weren't any. When he was younger, he'd believed it was all his fault, but as he'd gotten older he realized that was just bullshit crammed down his throat to make him feel like crap.

Yet here he was falling half way into old habits in the face of that vulnerability and fear. "Promise you won't tell anyone, Albert, I don't want you to get hurt."

There's a quiet stillness in Albert once he hears Jet's story. It's different from the frigid crackling silence when they'd been walking home or the serene noiselessness when the German is engrossed in a book or his schoolwork. This is more like the calm at the eye of a storm or a dead, windless sea leaving a ship stranded with limp sails. It's a full minute before he stands up, a very careful motion, almost as if he doesn't want to disturb the air around him.

"That's not right." His tone remains soft and ever even but there's a cautious warmth underneath, barely contained to just that instead of a blaze. "You're spending the night here. Or the weekend, even. You were going to be gone anyway."

He's angry, still so angry but it's redirected now. That's not how families work. Things may happen, but parents are for their kids. His mother has always been there for him through everything, even when they took Onkel away, even when the soldier came to the door with Vatti's eagle. And yet Jet's father hit him, hurt him over nothing.

Albert's on his feet, but his hand stays in Jet's. If anything he grabs the younger boy's hand tightly, almost possessively. "You'll be safe here."

"Al, I don't..."

There were too many emotions spinning through him, causing a confusing and overwhelming torrent in his head. He was still so scared and hesitant and he was angry with the whole situation with his father and even to some degree what happened with Leo, even if he still partly blamed himself for that one and he was grateful for Albert, the fact he was still trying to protect Jet even though Jet knew he'd been mad enough to slug him only minutes ago and he felt something stronger than that gratitude and base affection, something that had been licking at the heels of his thoughts when it came to his best friend for over a year now that was now flaring up stronger than before.

He didn't know what to do with all of them or how to sort them or even how he was supposed to react to them. He wished he could ask Albert, he seemed to be better about that kind of stuff, but...maybe not right now. Not when he could tell that anger was still there just coated and Jet wanted to fix it somehow.

He didn't like Albert being upset.

"Okay...at least tonight. I won't hang around if your ma wants me out, though." He hesitated, trying to parse out his emotions and fragmented thoughts to find the words he wanted, all the while squeezing the older teen's hand in return. He was glad Albert didn't want to let go, the grip was somehow grounding in the emotional storm plaguing him.

"Albert...look, can you just forget about all of that? I never wanted to get you involved in this crap. And...and I'm sorry for the last few weeks too. I was a real ditz flaking out on you like that. I--damn..."

He paused again, eyes clenched tight as he tried to sort through everything how was he supposed to explain why he'd been going around with that gang the whole time and hadn't realized till it was almost too late that what he'd been looking for in that whole group he had right here in Albert?

He couldn't, he simply couldn't.

"I don't wanna push you away anymore, that was one of the biggest screw ups I've ever made."

"She won't make you leave. I'll stand up to her if she tries, but she won't." Eyebrows so white they're barely visible knit in concern at the look on Jet's face. He'd never seen his friend like this. Never seen him so pained and vulnerable. So he does the only thing he can think of to help.

Albert steps in closer, squeezing Jet's hand tightly before slipping his fingers away so he can wrap both arms around the younger teen's head, pulling him in close in a protective embrace.

"It's okay," the words whisper into Jet's hair, Albert bent over the redhead as if he could act as a shield. "It's okay."

Everything was slow for a moment as Jet processed what was going on. After a beat, his arms rose, hesitating only once before moving to wrap around Albert's back. It felt nice, nicer than things had felt in a while and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been held like this. He had to have been younger than 10.

The next step was also slow in forming, starting with his hands clenching in the fabric under them as his breathing became unsteady until one caught in his throat and choked him. And then there were tears running down his face and into Albert's shirt and Jet's shoulders shook until it seemed like his whole body was quaking.

All the fears and anger and sadness and loneliness he'd kept sweapt to the sides until they'd steadily built walls and cieling around him, threatening to cave in on him at any point, finally began to be taken apart piece by piece. This wasn't all of it, but it was more than he'd let out in years.

Jet's crying, and that fact finally ebbs the tide of anger that had been sloshing back and forth in Albert's chest. It's still there, ready to swell and crash again in a raging froth that makes the German tense and icy, but for now, for once, his only focus is the present and the choked sobs coming from his dearest friend.

Albert rests his chin on top of Jet's head, arms tightening around him as if to say he'll keep him from shaking apart. He's calm and...

And this is a face Jet hasn't ever shown anyone, is it? It's not something he'd wanted to see, he never wants to see Jet in pain, but there's still something special and intimate in Jet showing it to him. It's a secret for them, in a sense. Albert blushes and is grateful Jet can't see his face.

"You've been watching out for me ever since we met. I'll take care of you this time."

They'd been close for years but Jet still never would have guessed he'd end up crying and clinging all over his best friend. He just wasn't a crier, not anymore, he'd been taught not to be. But now it was there in full force and as his sobs finally quieted down a wave of embarrassment and shame came over him and he forced himself to calm down and shut off the dam that had broken open.

For a moment it was just the sound of breathing, then he spoke up in a rough but mostly steady voice. "I'm sorry." That seemed to be all he could say recently. Sorry for throwing all of that at Albert, sorry for nearly pushing his only real friend away, sorry for lying to him for do long.

"Don't worry about it." If he was about to say anything more in response it's cut off with the sounds of the front door rattling and then the sound of something rustling as it's set on the kitchen table.

"Süßling? Arbeit nicht brauchen mich heute Abend, nachdem alle so bin ich jetzt nach Hause. Hast du schon gegessen? Ich habe Makrele aus dem Laden, wenn Sie es wollen." Mrs. Heinrich chatters as she starts to unpack her groceries.

"That's my mom... let me go talk to her first, you stay here, ok?" Reluctantly Albert untangles himself from Jet, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before slipping into the hall and around the corner.

Moments later: "Albert! Warum ist deine Hand bandagiert?"

"Schon gut. Mutti, ich muss dir etwas sagen..."

The rest is hushed voices.

Jet nodded and let Albert go without protest. He was actually a little greatful for the interruption, it gave him time to dry his eyes and pull himself back together while he waited.

He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but he found himself wishing he knew what was being said, what magical thing Albert would come up with that would convince his mother to let the 'delinquent kid' stay under her roof for a little while.

Instead he behaved and moved so he was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed and his knees drawn up, an unknowing knee-jerk reaction to that undercurrent of vulnerability that he couldn't shake, and waited.

Edited 2014-01-23 23:50 (UTC)

It's nearly a half hour before anyone rejoins Jet in Albert's room and this time it's Mrs. Heinrich, arms laden with a thick down comforter that's been patched by hand here and there numerous times. She unceremoniously drops it at Jet's feet and speaks up in her thick German accent as Albert comes in behind her with a pillow, eyes a little red around the edges but seeming calmer now that an adult has taken charge. "You will sleep in here. Supper is in an hour and make sure you wash before you come to the table, then homework. No fighting, here or anywhere else. Verstehst du?"

She waits for a response, arms folded with the same sort of silent anger that Albert had displayed in miniature when Jet explained about his father. It's a force of nature with his mother.

When Mrs. Heinrich came in, Jet pulled at the edge of his sleeve, standing as he did so. He didn't know how much had been said, but if the injuries on his arm weren't part of it, he didn't want to cause the same problem that had happened with her son earlier in the day, it was just easier without questions he didn't think he could answer again.

"Yeah...Yes, ma'am." As far as he knew, that anger was at least partially directed at him and he in no way wanted to exacerbate it. "...thank you. I 'preciate it."

"Gut." She says it as if she's just set the world back on axis. Another moment and she pulls Jet to her with a gentleness that's surprising given her formidable size. She kisses his forehead in a brief maternal gesture and pats his cheek. "Du bist ein guter Junge. Good boy."

She bustles out with the same brusqueness she came in with, rolling up her sleeves as she goes. The fish isn't going to cook itself. Albert looks after her with a small and grateful smile that wavers as he looks back at Jet. "Don't be mad, I had to tell her..."

The feeling that shot through him from the point where she'd kissed him down to his toes was different than the feeling he'd gotten when Albert had held him, but it still set a warmth in him he wasn't used to. He'd had teachers who had been nice to him and encouraging, but they were more like mentors, nice in their own way but still different. This had been motherly and felt like something achingly familiar. He'd missed small things like that.

However, that warmth was suddenly dampened at Albert's admission. There was anger in his voice, but it was coated in concern and born from that fear he'd felt since the thought of telling Albert his secret had popped into his head.

"Al! I asked you not to! I don't want you or your mother involved in this anymore than you already are. What if something happens 'cause I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" He didn't know exactly what, but there was this awful twisting in his stomach like something might happen and that was where his fear lay.

"It's like...it's like how now you're on Leo's radar cause you stepped in for me: he's dangerous and I don't want you in anymore trouble because of me. You or your mother."

He'd always been careful when it came to protecting Albert. A bully would talk say something or even try to put a hand on the shorter teen and Jet would be right there knocking him on his ass to get him away from Albert. More often than not, he'd get caught and sent to the office and whenever he was asked why he'd punched the asshole, he'd been sure to come up with something reasonably inflammatory without it being 'he was mocking my best friend;' Jet didn't want Albert associated in any way with the things Jet did that got him in trouble.

This was exactly the same. Only there wasn't a principal to go to, there was only his father, the biggest bully Jet knew, only he didn't play by the same rules, who knew what he was capable of if more pissed than he usually was. Jet certainly didn't want to know and he didn't want to find out.

"I'm not scared of Leo and Mutti isn't scared of your Pop either." Albert is, a little, but he's more angry than scared and a bit of that spikes up, frosting his tone as he tosses the pillow in his arms at Jet. "We've had bombs dropped on us. Once there were soldiers in the streets marching with guns and everything. I'm not scared of a jerk with a knife or a drunk with a belt. What I'm scared of is you getting hurt worse and worse until he does you in."

Albert leans against the wall, arms crossed so tightly they shake. "It's been getting worse. For the past four years it's been getting worse. You can't even hide it anymore it's so bad. I don't want you getting hurt anymore."

He pulls his hat down over his eyes, the ratty old newsboy cap he'd worn on his first day of school. He's still rarely without it. "I had to tell her so she could do something, so anyone could do something. I don't want you to end up dead..."

Jet's put into silence for the upteenth time that night and he just stares at his friend. He hadn't really thought of it, any of it. Albert was right, Jet should give the Heinrichs credit, they'd been through a lot and on top of that, they were a lot smarter than he was, if trouble came their way, they'd probably be able to side-step it.

But he still didn't want to be the reason trouble did come there way, they had enough problems without Jets on top of them. But the damage was already done.

He could just leave, he supposed, take the fire escape out and go home and leave them out of all of this for good. But...the selfish part that just didn't want to won out and tossed that idea aside. Besides, if he looked at it in the reverse, he'd be in the exact same place, wanting to do anything to protect his closest friend.

There were words at the back of his mind, something to say to all of that, but he couldn't make them into tangible words he could hold onto and say. Dropping the pillow on the blanket on his way, he crossed to the older teen and put a hand on his shoulder, his moment o hesitation before deciding 'fuck it' and pulled his friend into a tight hug.

He wished he could say it: how he was grateful to have Albert in his life, to have someone he knows for a fact would give a shit if Jet vanished, how he didn't want to die either, that it terrified him when he'd get pushed so hard into a wall his head would end up ringing and he'd wonder how close he'd just come to a split skull or a broken neck. But he couldn't.

He'd have to hope the hug was enough.

He'd already cried a little at his mother in recounting what he knew, the last thing he wanted was to cry in front of Jet. Jet had a reason - who wouldn't be crying if those things were happening to them? - but Albert didn't, as he saw it. He was safe. Scared for Jet, but safe nonetheless.

So why does he want to cling like a small child and bawl?

Albert settles for burying his face in Jet's shoulder and hugging back tightly. Worse than all of it, with the peripheral realization that it shouldn't be the worse thing but makes Albert's stomach tie in knots anyway, is that in telling he could have lost Jet as a friend. He could have gotten angry and left and Albert might never have seen him again.

He might've even gone back to Leo. Albert balls his fists in the fabric of Jet's shirt.

"Jet... what were you doing with Leo?"

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