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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"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.

It bothered him that Albert wasn't giving him that assurance, that there might be a time that the other teen would end up in the wrong part of town without Jet and then something would happen to him. But he did have to grant that Albert wasn't the same scared little boy he'd met years ago; shy, maybe, but he could hold his own. Besides, Albert had filled out nicely, he actually had some force behind that swing as Leo's nose demonstrated.

He curled up in the blanket on his side, listening to his friend, hesitation coating him with the left-field question. Why had he liked Leo? Because Leo had liked him and he'd been so desperate for any kind of attention he'd taken it? Maybe.

"I don't know why...maybe I never really liked him, not like I thought I did...but I can tell you how I know I don't like him. He doesn't put butterflies in my stomach or make my skin tingle when he touches it. He said some nice things, yeah, but he never...I don't know, I guess he never made me feel like he actually wanted me, you know? Those are the kinds of things you get from people you actually like like that."

Because that one he did know from experience, it was the measuring stick that Leo hadn't met and why he'd pulled away. Leo had been superficially nice, but at the moment Jet had expected him to make the red-head feel more special than anyone else, he hadn't even come close to comparing how Albert made him feel just by being Jet's friend and being close.

"You know you like someone when they mean more to you than just about anyone else and you want to protect them and make 'em happy and let them know you're there for them because them not being around is one of the worst things you can think of." He was thankful for the darkness and his ability to bury his face in his pillow, he doubted he could say half that with the lights on.

"Butterflies and tingles...?" That's it then, he's doomed. "And it's, um..."

It's not like Albert to stutter or pause anymore. Since emigrating to the United States, Albert's lost his formerly bashful exterior and mostly carries himself with a quiet confidence but in the face of such enormous emotions he feels fresh off of the boat again, awkwardly teetering between bewildered and unsure.

"It's... it's normal to feel like that about another guy?" Jet isn't the only one glad for the darkness of the room.

He goes quiet a moment as he tries to figure out his words. Was Albert asking because he really did have a problem with Jet or was he asking because he was actually the same and had a thing for someone? Which just opened a whole new can of worms: who did Albert like? How horrifically ironic would it be that the guy Jet totally had it bad for would like someone else when neither of them were supposed to like guys to begin with?

....but that was Albert's question, wasn't it? were they not supposed to like guys? According to everyone and everything around them: no, that was wrong and strange and unnatural.

But the feelings he had for Albert didn't feel like any of those things. Being the only kid wearing long sleeves in gym and having to pretend he ran into things a lot or got in fights every five seconds when it was really more like every two minutes, that stuff felt strange and wrong and unnatural.

And even if he'd ended up wanting out with Leo, it wasn't because he had thought another guy's hands on him was wrong or gross, it had been because of who the guy was. Or wasn't.

"I think so. It feels normal." If anything, the thought of being with a chick was what felt abnormal.

He could still remember that uncertain but definitely unpleasant twisting he'd gotten when Natalie had confessed to having feelings for him before she left. At the time, he'd thought it was because he just didn't like her like that but he knew Albert did--it wasn't that hard to figure out, you just had to watch the guy to get it--so it had felt like some unfair joke. Now he can't help but wonder if it was because girls just weren't his thing.

"Why?"

He should have known Jet would ask. He should have known a question like that is tantamount to giving himself away. This entire conversation is like playing with fire. "I-I'm just curious."

There were trace amounts of nervousness in Jet's tone when he asked. Was that just Albert projecting? Or was it really there? Was he worrying Jet somehow? Come to think of it, it's not the best question to ask someone who just told you they like to get with other guys when they had to watch a whole stupid film on it in health class. Really that entire reel was more of a cautionary tale against going off with strange adults than anything else, but the teacher made it clear his thoughts about 'deviancy' as he put it. "I mean, I might, um..."

Were they deviants? Did it matter if they weren't hurting anyone? At least he knows Jet won't condemn him for it, but the fact that Jet is the very reason he's having all these feelings in the first place makes it so much harder to talk to him about it. "There's a guy..."

Too late he realizes Jet is going to want to know who and Albert ducks under his comforter again.

So there was someone. And now here came the butterflies and the swirling thoughts of who and just how long Albert had felt like that and why couldn't it be him--? He gathered the comforter tightly around him and sat up, scooting so he could lean on the side of the bed and peek over at the blanket-lump that was his best friend.

"Who is it, Al? And don't try and get out of this, you're the one that brought it up." Albert had dug his grave by asking Jet all this and asking him about Leo when Jet hadn't wanted to talk about it for the next fifty years at least, so now he had to lay in it.

His mind sped through a list of all the guys it could be, some in the music program at school, some who drifted around the library more than most and some who were in their classes. There were a few possibilities, but none of them stood out overly much.

"...It's not Scott is it?" His thoughts caught on a relatively gorgeous guy in one of their classes, blond, tall, bright green eyes and ridiculously clever without being overbearing about it. Jet could see him being attractive to Albert...they could go off and be brainy together and Jet definitely couldn't compete with a guy like that.

Jet hoped it wasn't him.

"Scott? What makes you think Scott?" It's enough of a surprise guess that Albert removes the blanket from his head to look at Jet as if the other teen suddenly declared himself president of space. "He's so boring! All he talks about is his car and his family's house in the Hamptons, which I'm pretty sure he's lying about. I mean, what's he doing in public school if they have a house in the Hamptons?"

Point made, Albert has time to notice just how close Jet is to him now and he shrinks some, the blanket covering his nose. "A-anyway, it's not Scott. I-I don't really want to talk about it because I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me back like that even if he's my friend."

Jet shrugged, inwardly relieved it wasn't Scott, Jet admittedly found him boring too and wouldn't have wanted to hear about him if that had been the case.

But Albert's refusal to spill was frustrating. 'His friend' narrowed the list already in his head since Albert's list of friends was pretty small and a lot of them were girls to boot, so who the heck was it?

"Look, you picked at things I didn't want to talk about, just tell me, it's not like I'm gonna rat you out or anything, you should know better than that." Jet didn't tell secrets that weren't his to tell.

He scrabbled through the list again, hating every name that ran through his head more and more. And then it stopped and all the names fell away as an idea tore through and left an agonizing mix of excitement and nervousness in its wake.

"Al...is it me?" He wished he could eat the words the second they were out of his mouth but his filter had always kind of sucked so it was inevitable they'd surface eventually. Why would it be him? After everything Albert knew now it just seemed too unlikely. But he had to ask or he'd just sit around wondering forever.

Why did Jet have to be so perceptive? Why did he have to open his mouth in the first place? Why'd he get dragged to America anyway?! Why anything?! Not that it matters. He's not the kind of person Jet goes for. He's not tall or dangerous and he's kind of a square a lot of the time.

"It's okay if you don't like me back." The stutter is gone in favor of a sharp quickness, Albert backpedaling furiously in an effort to preempt the awkward letdown he's so certain is in his immediate future. "It's really way more important that we're friends and I really didn't want to say anything because so much happened today already and I don't want to add to it or make you feel bad at all so we can just forget it and pretend nothing happened and go to bed."

He mangles the edge of the blanket in his hands, looking at it instead of at Jet. He couldn't stand to see that shocked face of his best friend turn into one of pity or even resentment.

Jet's face was definitely one of shock and that previous mix of emotions exploded and turned into something so tangled and convoluted that he didn't even dare try to name it.

Slowly, he extracted his arms from the cover of the blanket and reached for the hand covered in bandages. His eyes found his own fingers, tentatively brushing along the bandage before growing bolder and curling around his friend's hand.

"We're always going to be friends, no matter what....but d'you know why I changed my mind with Leo? He wasn't the person I wanted to be with....He wasn't you."

His face caught fire at the declaration, but he managed to force his eyes up to see Albert's face, heart in his throat and butterflies in his stomach, but a little more sure than he'd been before.

"I like you too, Albert. Have for a long while now...I just never thought you'd like me back so I never..." He shrugged, his words running out on him.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Jet's hand covers his but instead he's perfectly still, barely even breathing out of the fear that he'll break the moment somehow, that he'll wake up and things won't be this way at all. It's more likely it's a dream, that has to be it. There's no way things would turn out like this and Jet reciprocates and actually always did. He raises his left hand to pinch himself just to make sure, letting out a hoarse 'ouch!' and then his eyes go wide.

Not a dream, then. This is real. Jet's really telling him this and Albert's stomach turns into a knot of nerves and happiness, butterflies rattling like a tilted pinball machine inside him. He wets his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue. "Really...? But... but why? I'm not, I mean-"

It doesn't make sense.

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