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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The rest of the weekend is spent in blissful companionship, Jet and Albert visiting their usual haunts and hangouts, but everything seemed new with the stolen glances and secretive hand-holding. They even got the apartment to themselves until the wee hours of the morning on Saturday, Albert's mother having been held up at work an leaving the boys cash for a pizza and a note to make sure they wash up before they eat.

The second time was better than the first, Albert a little more confident in the rhythm of things but still just as giddy for Jet's hands on him and the look he gives from under all that soft red hair. The sex is still perfect in its myriad of imperfections and they both go to bed happy and tangled together, wishing it could last beyond that night.

Unfortunately, time goes quickly when you ignore its passing, and all too soon it's getting late on Sunday evening and the boys have to say goodbye until the next day. They don't speak of it as Albert watches Jet walk down the stoop of the tenement building and round the corner towards the subway, but the anxiety of sending Jet back to potential harm and definite misery hangs a heavy pall over them both.

And the next morning, when Jet shows up in a jacket and a battered Dodgers cap pulled low over his face, Albert feels his stomach drop at the stiff way the other teen is moving. It turns to anger when the teacher makes him take off his hat and Jet's bangs can't quite cover the raw and puffy half moon of sickly purples and blues around one eye. Albert's in a silent rage when Jet finally takes his seat, hands curled in fists under his desk so tightly that his nails scrape into his palms.

He has to do something, but for the life of him he doesn't know what.

That weekend had been the best few days of his life, being able to relax and spend his time with Albert, he even took some joy in doing what would normally be considered chores since he didn't have to fear hell raining down on his head for making 'too much noise' or whatever else.

He smiled for Albert but they both knew it wasn't real the night he had to leave. Still, he had good memories of warm nights curled around his best friend and the sights and sounds that had come with that along with the more simple things like laughing together and holding hands and acting like everything was normal. Those were the things he held to as he made his way to the subway and back home.

A small part of him even hoped that Leo and his flunkies would find him on his way home and stop him from even needing to go back. They didn't and barely five minutes after he'd closed the door, the first fist had flown.

The teacher didn't even ask why his face looked the way it did, they'd long since bought his customary response of getting into a fight, he already had the reputation of it in the school. Being a punk and a troublemaker gave him a bit of freedom in that respect. But there was one person who knew better now and Jet sat next to him with his eyes steadfastly glued to the front of the room.

He stayed that way all through class and thought, maybe, he'd be able to ignore Albert right up to the bell when he could dart out and avoid any looks he was afraid would be in his friend's eyes. He didn't want to ignore Albert, it was an incredibly difficult thing to accomplish when just the thought of him sent Jet's mind to how soft the other teen's skin was and his scent and the way he looked when he smiled, but he also wanted desperately to keep this part of his life as far away from Albert as he could.

Unfortunately, his plan fell through when the bell rang and his body had grown too sore from being motionless for him to do anything more than stiffly shuffle out of his seat. On top of that, a girl he talked to on occasion stopped by to ask what happened and if he was alright.

Lying to her was easy. A quick smirk and the claim of having gotten into a knock down drag out with some street punk on his way back from a dive on 14th and she was smiling and shaking her head as though she were surprised she should have expected any different. She ate it up and moved on, but it was plenty of time for him to be delayed in gathering up his stuff.

Albert loiters until the girl leaves, placing himself near the door and holding it open for her politely. When she's gone, the door shuts with a click and the German remains on the inside, he and Jet alone save for the quiet croaking of the frogs they'll have to dissect next week.

"Was it Leo?" He's pretty sure it wasn't. Jet would have worn those bruises proudly instead of trying to hide them, and he would have given as good as he got. Albert instead asks to give Jet the opportunity to be honest with him, to tell him plainly instead of Albert having badgered him into talking and making the younger teen feel more trapped.

He already felt a little trapped and not just because the door had clicked shut with such finality. Albert had asked if Leo had done it and that left Jet with an excuse to lie to him...but Jet didn't want to lie to him, not anymore. It had felt so nice to be open and honest all through the weekend that trying to go back to the way things had been before was hard.

He tugged at his jacket's sleeve nervously and picked up his books to give his hands something to do, although the weight of them and the edges of the binding pressed uncomfortably against cuts and bruises the long sleeves hid.

"No. I didn't see him at all. The dishes piled up too high while I was gone and I guess Pop ran out of smokes or something." He couldn't really remember what had started the yelling and hitting beyond that, all he remembered were the things his dad had said about him, the things that stuck in his mind like they'd caught on sharp edges and wouldn't let go.

Jet made for the door, his eyes still averted as they had been since he'd stepped into the classroom that morning. "Come on, we're gonna be late; don't want that spotless record of yours getting messed up for no reason."

"I don't care if I-" He's cut off by the sound of the science teacher trying to get into the room again and hurriedly unlocks it. Jet's saved by the bell, for now, but Albert's thoroughly intent on cornering him again at lunch.

His next two classes are honors courses and so he doesn't see Jet during them, but the very moment the bell rings the normally reserved teen is bolting through the door with his book bag bouncing in his hands, his mind racing as fast as his feet.

There isn't anything they can actually do about it. Even the teachers will smack wrists and pull ears with unruly students. He has to tell his mother, has to get her to do something because no one else will. The teachers won't listen, Jet doesn't want any other kids to know, but Edda Heinrich already does and maybe she can be their salvation. Albert still trusts in his mother's ability to do the impossible; she's never failed him before.

By the time Jet makes it out of class, Albert's already standing in the hall, winded and panting as he waits. "Come home with me after school."

Jet sat in a daze through his classes like he was on autopilot, his mind stuck circulating possibilities on what Albert might do. He wouldn't just tell other students, that wasn't like Albert, and even if he told teachers it wouldn't matter; Jet had already established himself as a pugnacious troublemaker, they'd want proof and the only proof they had were bruises and cuts Jet had already dug a million lies to explain. No one would believe them.

It was better that way, he'd already dragged his best friend further into this than he should have.

He started in surprise when he left the classroom and practically ran into Albert panting and determined in the hallway. But the surprise passed quickly in the face of his friend's demand which caused a patch of color to rise to his cheeks. Jet grabbed the older teen under the arm and pulled him into walking towards the cafeteria.

"You wanna say that a little louder next time? I don't think the Freshmen heard you downstairs." He huffed and let go of Albert's arm as though he were afraid he'd hold on too tight. He always felt like that the day after his father had it out on him, like Jet might transfer some of that to others if he touched them for too long, but now he was more aware of it.

Instead he thought about Albert's request. His gut reaction was that it was too risky for the older teen, but he realized his dad didn't even know Albert existed, if Jet vanished again and reappeared later, Jet could say he was out doing just about anything and he'd be believed.

"Alright, I'll come, but only if you drop this. It wasn't a big deal before and it's not now, so leave it alone."

"You're wrong." Albert's face is flush with anger but also some embarrassment. It caught up with him how loud he'd been in the hall and so his voice is softer now, but it still carries the same heavy weight. "It was always a big deal, just no one knew it."

The older teen's hand twitches with wanting to take Jet's arm, to pull him into a protective hug, but more than how that would look he doesn't want to grab him somewhere that would cause him more pain. The last thing he wants to do is be the cause of any more hurt in Jet's life.

He swallows.

"What if-"

Can he ask this? Is it even possible? Maybe he should wait and ask his mother first but he can't stand by and deal with Jet coming in every morning with fresh cuts and bruises until one day he may not even come in at all. The thought makes him feel sick and he keeps talking because of it.

"What if we asked my mom if you could live with us instead? We could get part-time jobs to pay for it, at the grocery store or at the music shop or something. If we help with that and around the house, I'm sure it'd be fine. Please." He steps forward when he knows Jet will protest, white eyes searching brown helplessly, desperately, for any sign that Jet will give him this chance. "I want to protect you."

He was scared and he wanted some way to be out of this conversation and out of this situation, but it was lunch and there were no excuses to escape the pleading gaze of the one person he cared about.

It wasn't that he was scared of Albert, he was scared for him. It was entirely possible that he could leave home and his dad wouldn't even care until some other thing that Jet usually did went undone and Ciro had to do it himself. But would he care enough then to go looking for him? Jet was still a teenager, running away would get him in trouble and maybe even the Heinrichs too for giving him a place to hide out. Could they be charged for kidnapping or something else?

His dad was a coward, he didn't think he'd actually do anything against them himself, but what if Jet was underestimating him and he did in some drunken rage, what if he followed Jet or found him at the school and found out who was helping him and he decided to show up at their door? What if--

He shook his head. "What if you get hurt because of it? I don't just mean physically, there's plenty of ways it could go wrong I don't want...this last weekend's the best thing I can remember happening to me in a long time, if anything happened to you or your ma just because of me--" He shook his head again.

"Maybe nothing would happen, maybe I'd get my stuff and leave and never see him again. But on the off chance something did happen, I can't let that fall on you. I have to protect you too." Because Albert's life might not be easy, but it had love and happiness and he and his mother had made Jet feel at home for the first time in a long time and the younger teen felt sick at the thought of all the unhappiness and violence and hate in his life falling on their heads because he was weak and couldn't take a little rough handling.

Albert was his best friend and the things he felt for the older boy were stronger than anything else he'd ever experienced and he had to protect that no matter what.

"I told you before, your dad isn't as scary as Nazis or the allied bombs. And Mutti can take care of herself. She didn't even cry when the bombs fell, she just took me to the cellar and dug us out after with just a ladle so stop trying to be some kind of tragic hero for a minute and worry about yourself." Anger coming to a head Albert hisses angry frost through clenched teeth to keep his voice down, spinning so he blocks the view of Jet from the rest of the mostly empty hall. In a flash, Albert grabs Jet's arm and pushes up his sleeve, hating to do what he knows hurts but mouth pressed in a thin and determined line regardless.

He's silent, holding Jet's arm in place with surprising strength for the boy who couldn't even throw a punch two years prior. He hates to look at it, the sickly discolored skin, yellows and greens under the purples and reds. "There isn't anything noble in living with this. You don't deserve this."

He does wince when Albert grabs his arm and for just a moment there's a panic born from feeling air on bare skin, as though the sheer fact his arm was uncovered meant someone would randomly show up and see it. But he doesn't try to pull away. Something in the strong grip and that determination in Albert's voice holds him there.

Maybe because what he'd half understood a couple nights ago--that Albert was afraid Jet wouldn't come back from returning home someday--solidified and mingled with the feeling of having someone who cared enough to even be worried about that. He wanted to protect Albert because he didn't want him to get hurt, but Jet was hurting him by being stubborn.

His eyes disappeared into his fringe of hair and a humorless smile tugged at his lips.

"I don't deserve you."

He turned the wrist being held just enough to grab Albert's wrist with his hand in return. "Only if your ma says it's okay...and only if you let me go get my stuff by myself."

He could relent to the building itself, but he didn't want Albert anywhere near the apartment itself. He didn't discredit what the Heinrich's had been through--far from it, he admired them--but that didn't stop the fear tearing at his stomach at just the thought. Either way, he would need to get at least some stuff if he stayed with the Heinrichs longer than a weekend. Hopefully he could do that soon, the longer he waited, the worse his eventual short-lived return would be received.

Edited 2014-03-28 04:59 (UTC)

Even though the words are meant to be self-deprecating, a furious red springs to Albert's face at Jet saying he doesn't deserve him, the German mumbling under his breath about how Jet can't just say such things out loud.

The pressure on his wrist from Jet's hand snaps him out of his embarrassment and he smiles hopefully at his friend. "Yeah! Absolutely. I'll have to have time to ask her anyway."

He has no doubt she will say yes because she has to. Because everything important in Albert's world is in danger and he can't let that go without doing something. Even if they weren't... whatever they are. Even if they were just friends, Albert still would insist. He can't let Jet end up in the papers, washed up on the Hudson.

Albert's hand tightens unconsciously at the thought.

Jet gave a tentative, albeit real smile at the hope Albert had. Carefully, he rolled his sleeve back down to cover his arm and let go of the German to gesture towards the cafeteria.

"We gotta get through the rest of the day first. When d'you think you'll ask her?"

Things decided, Albert feels much better and he lets Jet start leading the way to the cafeteria. "She's working at the dry cleaner today so I was going to stop there on the way home."

It would give his mother the chance to think about this without being put completely on the spot, or so he thinks. She'll have a few hours for the idea to marinate before coming home and giving an answer. "She won't say no."

He was silently glad for Albert's determination since Jet felt only some of it himself. "Yeah. If she doesn't, though, we'll figure something else out. I'll still get my stuff together tonight and it'll be okay."

It was easy enough to say it, he just wished he felt it more, but those were his nerves talking. There was one thing he was sure of: he was done letting his home life hurt the only good thing Jet had. Even if Mrs. Heinrich said no, he'd still leave and go...somewhere else. Anywhere else. He'd camp out in the school's supply closet if he had to.

"Maybe I'll ask Mr. Conners at the guitar shop for a job, he'd probably like the help." Plus the old guy was stubborn as a mule, he wasn't likely to ask for the help he needed, Jet offering was a better solution for both of them.

"That's a great idea! He likes you, I bet he'd give you part time, easy." He's optimistic because he has to be, because it's clear that Jet still has doubts and there isn't any room for both of them to doubt. "And she won't say no. If it takes her awhile to come around though, you can just come in through the fire escape."

Albert's window is a little small for that regularly, but Jet's scrawny enough he should be able to squeeze in.

The mental image produced with Albert's words gets a laugh out of Jet. "Sure, I'll live on your roof and sneak in like a bandit through your window."

Hopefully no cops'd spot him or that would be the end of that; Mrs. Heinrich was nice, but he was pretty sure she'd have little tolerance for delinquents who broke her rules.

More hopefully still, maybe they wouldn't have to do that part at all. Just thinking about it made him wish the day would go by faster so he wouldn't have to keep wondering about it.

"At least you'd fit in with the rest of the pigeons," Albert gives a toothy grin, referring jokingly back to a conversation they'd had about what superpowers they'd want. Albert couldn't decide, but Jet had jumped to flying immediately and Albert had said 'like a pigeon?' without thinking. Affronted, Jet retorted 'like an eagle' but sometimes Albert will still tease him. It's just too fun not to.

Right on cue, Jet practically puffed up in his indignation and he pouted. "Oh yeah? You just let random pigeons in your room? Too bad I'm not a pigeon or nothing." He wasn't an eagle either, but it was the principle of the matter.

"Not random pigeons." Albert's voice drops lower so as not to be overheard by the empty hallway. "Just you."

He grins all the wider, knowing that saying so will turn Jet about as red as his hair, though Albert flushes some as well in announcing his feelings.

As predicted, color blazed across Jet's face and he steadfastly kept his eyes pointed ahead of them. "S-shut up."

The day passed slowly until those last fifteen minutes seemed to crawl past covered in molasses. But once the bell had rung, Jet flashed a smile at Albert along with a 'see you later' and headed back home.

He was hoping he'd get there and find his dad passed out in his chair so Jet could gather his things and leave before the old guy woke up. Unfortunately, that wasn't quite the case.

No more than an hour and a half later, Jet was back at Albert's door, a couple bags and his backpack at his feet. He didn't look any worse for wear except a small, shallow, cut along his cheek that had stopped bleeding with the help of his jacket sleeve.

He knocked. "Al? You home yet?" He didn't sound any worse either in fact, if anything, he sounded better.

"No, but I am now," Albert's voice comes from behind Jet, keys jangling as he pulls them out. His conversation with his mother had been inconclusive, but she'd at least said Jet could stay for dinner so it was a start. He tries to keep how much that troubles him out of his expression.

"Scoot back, I gotta open the do-... What happened to your face?" The cut might be small, but Albert notices it immediately and he frowns deeply, staring at it as if the intensity of his gaze could make it heal over out of embarrassment for existing.

He brought his sleeve to the cut again, afraid it'd started bleeding again, that small smile he'd been wearing not slipping even an inch. "It's nothing. Pa was home when I got there. At first, he didn't even notice but by the time I was trying to leave, he saw the bags and flipped."

His hand lightly fell to his arm just above the e;bow and he shrugged. "He grabbed me and I punched him. I was almost to the door when he chucked a bottle at me; guess the damn thing was broken already or something cause it nicked me."

Not once did he sound dour or put out or uncertain and skittish during his explanation, he was just a step away from vibrant and couldn't stop that small smile from persisting. In his mind, it had gone a lot better than he'd expected, and he'd gotten to sock his father one for the first time ever.

It felt good.

"How about your end of things?"

The door rattles open and Albert resists the urge to shove Jet inside, trying not to be angry at the other teen's unconcerned attitude when he could have been way more severely injured. He's probably just happy to be out and free of that mess, but Albert still worries for Jet's safety and well being. He heads for the first aid kit as he continues the conversation.

"She said you could stay tonight for dinner. Later than that if we do homework and stuff. The rest she said she had to think." He tries to make it sound like it's no big deal and he manages somehow to exude the confidence that she'll decide in their favor when he doesn't feel it. "She's gonna get pizza, so I told her to get sausage on it."

He brings the kit to the kitchen table and takes out the iodine. "C'mere."

As Albert was talking, Jet took the opportunity to stash his stuff in a corner of Albert's room, deciding he'll move it later if he has to, though he's finding it easier to have faith in Albert's determination now that he was here. In the end, even the roof of the apartment complex seemed like a better option than what used to be home.

By the time he's back out in the main room, his smile's only gotten wider at the thought of pizza with his favorite topping and everything...although that smile dampens at the sight of the iodine.

He hesitates and his hand comes up to cover the cut in defense. "It's not that bad, Al...we can just leave it." That shit stung and he wanted none of it.

Of course, Albert could be forceful when he wanted to be. He sat backwards in one of the chairs...safely out of arm's reach of the other teen.

"Only if you want it to get infected and have your face rot off." So basically no.

Albert dabs a cotton ball in the viscous liquid and advances on Jet, ready to pounce and hold him down if he has to but he hopes he doesn't. "Frankly I don't think face rot is very attractive."

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