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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"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?"

Unease seeped through him and he paused. He could lie, come up with something easier than the truth, but Albert didn't deserve that. He lied to his parents and his classmates and his teachers and after everything, he wanted to be done lying to his best friend too.

"He was my way to get in with that gang, I was going to join them. I'd decided just a couple days ago. That's not going to happen anymore, obviously. But he just got...really friendly with me, you saw a bit of it when he'd come by the school. I don't know, he looked at me differently than other people and said things to me I hadn't heard before...I guess I liked the attention."

He sighed and his grip loosened in case Albert wanted to pull away after Jet admired what he was going to admit. Fear wrenched his stomach all over again, this time filling his head with images of Albert pulling away and calling him wrong, messed up. Maybe even tell Jet he deserved what almost happened in that case--but that wasn't Albert. He wouldn't say all that, kick him out or maybe just think he was messed up, but he wouldn't say anything really hurtful.

He was pretty sure. He took a steadying breath.

"I was gonna get with him...but I changed my mind and, well, he didn't like that. That was when you showed up." He paused. "Why were you there anyway?" Maybe if he asked the question he had on his mind anyway, Albert would disregard the fact Jet had just admitted to wanting to sleep with another guy.

It was a long shot.

"Oh," there's no surprise in the response. Albert had known Jet leaned towards guys for awhile now. Not because Jet was terribly obvious but more because the German boy is simply observant of the way Jet looks at other people. There's something different when a person is attracted to another person and Jet never got that twinkle with a girl.

He looks away a bit, embarrassed. It seems so stupid now. "I, um... I was going to yell at you for leaving me behind. It's stupid." He steps back a pace, running a hand back through his hair self consciously.

There was a moment or two of waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for that terrible reaction he'd been expecting...but there wasn't one. There was nothing but acknowledgement and then Albert had moved on and while Jet didn't get why, he was beyond grateful for it.

He laughed and shook his head, never happier to hear Albert had wanted to yell at him. "Not stupid. I'm glad you did. I was pretty stupid about that whole thing and I was being a jerk to you, so I would've deserved it."

He'd never be able to describe his feeling when Albert was suddenly there like some guardian angel out of nowhere to save the younger teen. All he could do was swear that he wouldn't do that again and swear that he'd do his best not to hurt Albert like that again either.

"You were being a jerk, yeah." A laugh escapes Albert too, sheepish and unsure. He's suddenly feeling awkward and out of sync with his own body. The way that Jet's looking at him - all warmth and gratefulness, as if he's something special - makes his face burn and he's sure the taller boy can somehow read his mind and pluck out all the stray and wanton thoughts that have plagued Albert for months, the ones he didn't know the name for until it had slapped him across the face in the midst of his angrily dragging Jet home.

He's smitten.

No, more than that... He's completely head over heels.

And in the next moment he's eternally grateful for his mother's low call of "Essen!" from the kitchen. Saved by the dinner bell.

"Let's go eat!" Suddenly full of energy, Albert hurries down the very short hall to the kitchen, going immediately for the drawer to set out placemats and silverware, stealthily not looking anyone present in the face until he manages to get his feelings back under wraps before they spill out all over.

Any inner turmoil Albert was suffering went right over Jet's head and he smiled brightly at Albert's sudden energy and followed his friend into the kitchen.

He stood awkwardly a moment, unsure what to do with himself and feeling largely out of place...but it was comfortable at the same time. It was more comfortable than trying to sneak through the living room where his dad was camped out--preferably asleep, but not always--like he was maneuvering a minefield all in the hopes that he could scrounge together a sandwich or something else he didn't need to cook for dinner.

This was nothing at all like that, this was homey and open and he didn't feel like he was going to be bared down on for making too much noise or whatever other flavor of reason that was thought up.

Although, the lack of that feeling didn't stop his voice from coming out quiet when he spoke up. "Um..." But then he shook himself out of it and spoke louder, with more confidence, more like the person he liked being out and in front of others rather than the shrinking fearful shadow he was at home. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Albert, fragen Sie ihn, um die Gläser zu erreichen."

"She'd like if you could get the glasses down." Albert looks to Jet and motions to a high cupboard then leans in a bit conspiratorially. "She's self conscious about her English or she would ask you hersel- Ah!"

He's abruptly cut off by his mother grabbing his ear sharply but with an expression that gets across being flustered and amused all at once. "Teilen Sie nicht so etwas!"

"Bitte, Mutti." He tries not to laugh, ducking away to put silverware at Jet's place then sliding into his own chair and waiting as Mrs. Heinrich sees to removing the fish from the oven. He shoots a smile at Jet behind her back.

The whole exchange has Jet smiling and it doesn't fade even as he goes to get the glasses he'd been pointed to, an easy feat for him since he was the tallest one there.

Once the glasses were in place, he took his seat as well. It was strange sitting at a table again. He could remember nights when it was the norm: His father would have been home about an hour, resting, then they'd be called in to whatever dinner Jet's mother had made and then they'd talk and catch up. It had been nice and this felt close enough to that that it put a tightness in his chest that he had to squash down quickly lest it try to choke him next he spoke.

He shot a look at Albert that still held that appreciation from earlier with some wonder thrown in at just how easy it was to sort of fit in with only a simple nudge from the other boy.

He'd been drastically wrong about the gang, they weren't a family, this was.

Moments after Jet sits down dinner's on the table. Despite both teens being old enough to serve themselves, Mrs. Heinrich still preconstructs their meals, setting plates laden with baked mackerel, mixed vegetables, and roasted potatoes in front of each. She sits with her own plate once the boys are served and have a soda each, giving a warning as she does. "Careful of bones."

There's a little conversation during the meal. Though Mrs. Heinrich is relatively quiet, it's more because of her lack of confidence with English than because she doesn't want to engage. She asks Albert - in halting English for Jet's benefit - how the day was and Albert responds with a run down of school and piano practice, leaving out all mention of his brief fight with Leo because he'd already told her about that privately. Once the silver-haired teen is finished, Mrs. Heinrich turns to look at Jet expectantly for his answer to the same question.

It had been a while since he'd had fish, so Jet was simply enjoying the food and listening to the Heinrichs talk, it took a moment for him to realize he was being asked the same question.

But once it clicked, he was talking like normal, about classes and guitar lessons from the school's music teacher in the mornings, ending with a severely glazed over version of the afternoon's activities: 'meeting with some people to listen to some tunes.'

Even that last part he didn't falter on, he was good at doing that sort of thing these days, but the fact that the scared and uncertain boy who'd been in Albert's room earlier was no where to be found now helped.

The rest of dinner is light and conversation turns to that of music and food. Albert gets Jet to help him clean up and do dishes after and then Mrs. Heinrich makes sure homework gets done. While a bit strict with the boys, their work spread out across the kitchen table, she has a twinkle in her eye as she turns on the radio softly in the background, finding something Jet had professed to like during their dinner conversation before leaving it to crackle the tune through the apartment.

Albert showers for bed second, that being the polite thing to do, but all through the evening he's been having... thoughts. It's wonderful to see Jet so happy. He's not sure if he's ever seen the redhead so carefree and comfortable, but he didn't think his mind would provide such imagery when he thought about it too hard. Instead of simply leaning over to ask about some of their homework, his hormone addled brain tries to rewrite it into Jet leaning in and nipping his ear behind the barricade of the math book. Instead of the occasional accidental bump of long legs under the table, he thinks of Jet's foot snaking up the back of his leg slowly. And when Jet had come back from the shower, hair hanging soaked down around his shoulders and long legs naked under the towel, Albert's thoughts had been too unseemly to describe.

It's a definite problem, both mentally and physically.

He could take himself in hand. He's quiet usually - what? He's a teenager - but the mere fact that Jet is right in the other room, in his bedroom at that, makes Albert pretty certain that it wouldn't help for more than maybe five minutes if he did.

It's ridiculous when he thinks about it. Jet's been in his room before, even spent the night once or twice, but it's somehow different now, having realized what he did earlier. Now his brain seems to think there's the possibility of something happening.

But would there really be? Jet's not exactly shy about what he wants usually. If he thought of Albert like that, wouldn't he have said something? It's not as if they don't have time alone. Though... Being with a guy is... He doesn't know anyone like that. When he'd first guessed it about Jet he'd spent quite awhile having to wrap his head around it, though all privately as he deals with most things he needs to give deep consideration. He'd decided that he didn't care. In the end, why does it matter who you love so long as you treat them well? Even if there's the whole question of children and all. But that's getting ahead of himself.

Ultimately, Albert doesn't give into temptation, turning the shower on as cold as it will go for a few minutes and getting in his pajamas in the bathroom before venturing out. That should give him enough of a reprieve to hide under his comforter before his body gets other ideas again, at least.

After he was done with his shower, he'd thrown his old shirt on temporarily while he went to Albert's room to let the older boy have the bathroom. His wet hair was soaking the material, but it was better than making Albert uncomfortable by letting him see the marks and bruises.

Once his friend was gone, though, he stripped it and dried himself off, only pulling a pair of boxers on before wrapping up in the soft comforter. He let his mind wander while he waited, drifting over the whole day in stark detail including the last few hours. He let himself think about how different being here was to being at home. What it would have been like if Leo had gotten his way only for Jet to then need to go home and face his father, he didn't even know what would have happened then or if he'd even be noticed, but it wasn't a good scenario. And he let himself think about what Albert had said about not wanting Jet to end up dead.

That mingled with his thoughts of Leo and that same fear resurfaced and swirled in his mind. The Blue Rose gang was notorious for pulling petty shit most of the time, but it was no secret that they were dangerous. Their leader didn't take shit from anyone, not even from his own group, so if someone crossed him or anyone in his 'family' they had a habit of ending up dead in some gutter somewhere. And rarely did the member responsible for it get caught.

It wasn't like that all the time, they were hardly the most ruthless in the city and more often than not, knives only came out as a threat and not with any real intention of use, but that didn't mean they should be taken lightly either.

When Albert came back in and dove under his covers, Jet was still on this train of thought. he let silence reign between them for a few seconds before he spoke up again, quietly so as not to be heard outside of the room. "Albert, I want you to promise me you won't come anywhere near Little Italy for any reason, okay? The further away you keep, the better. And actually promise me."

"I can't, you might need my help." Silver hair pops out from under the covers with an accompanying scowl. It isn't an out of hand dismissal, but it's certainly a final one. After everything today the last thing Albert is going to do is abandon his best and dearest friend because of his father, Leo, or any other reason. "Besides, Leo's gonna probably come after one or the other of us. If we split up, it'll just make us more tempting targets. It's not like when I first got here, Jet. I can hold my own now. I'm pretty sure I broke his nose."

He tries not to take pleasure in that fact, but there's a grim satisfaction in his statement regardless. He settles in, rolling on his back and folding his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling instead of Jet's face or he might be back to the same state he was in in the shower. Though... something's bothering him. "Why did you think you liked Leo, anyway? Just 'cause he complimented you or...? I mean, uh... I guess I mean how do you know if you like someone or, y'know, like someone?"

Obviously this is the most important question.

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