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 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."

Face rot didn't sound pleasant, no. Although that last comment had something to do with his reluctant stillness. He winced and tried not to pull away when the burning touch of iodine filled the cut.

"That's just mean." But stay put he did, although not without some fidgeting. There was even a trace of kicked puppy look once the medicinal torture had ended.

"What, you wanna look like you're starring in House of Wax?" Albert makes a face. He'd been particularly put off by that movie when they'd snuck into it, all the melting wax dummies and all.

He puts a band-aid on Jet's cheek then snaps the kit shut and takes it back into the bathroom. A moment later he peeks around the door frame to make sure his mother hasn't miraculously arrived in the last two seconds, then shoots Jet a shy grin. "I like your face the way it is."

Jet pulled a face at the thought of looking like those melting dummies but continued to pout as Albert put the kit away. Right up until Albert basically said he liked Jet's looks and then the younger teen's face caught fire.

"W-whatever..." Jet looked away and stood up. He didn't make eye contact again until he'd crossed over to the shorter teen and leaned down to steal a kiss--albeit a short one since the feeling that Mrs. Heinrich would be home any second weighed in the back of his mind.

The kiss turns Albert red too and he deals with it by diving into his bookbag and pulling out their homework even if that's the last thing he wants to do. What he'd rather be doing is shoving Jet up against the fridge for another kiss, lips locked and tongues twining. He can imagine he feels Jet's hands on him, sneaking under his shirt, untucked with buttons askew. One sliding up alone his sternum, the other down under the hem of his jeans, the hem of his boxers, cupping his ass as Albert presses in closer, his knee between the taller teen's...

No no no no not now his mom could be home any minute! Homework is safer. Right. Because he can totally concentrate.

Jet smirks to himself as he follows Albert's lead and sets up with his own homework. Of course he barely has his pencil in his hand before thoughts start going about what if they just kissed instead? What if Jet stuck his hand down Albert's pants and made the older teen moan and writhe on whatever surface they found themselves on? What if they were on the table? What if he had Albert half undressed and pinned to the smooth wooden surface, his hands on that broad body and--

Heat bloomed across his face and he had to take the pressure off the pencil that threatened to break against the already lead-marred page. Homework was going to be hard if he didn't start actively trying to concentrate.

"Maybe...we should work on this stuff together...till your ma gets home..." Which he actually sort of hoped would be sooner rather than later just so his temptation to jump his best friend right then and there wouldn't be as strong.

"Uhh... y-yeah, sure." Though being right next to Jet as they pretend to pour over their math or English while really trying to concentrate on not noticing the curve of neck and shoulder under Jet's shirt, how his bangs have gotten so long in places that they nearly brush his jaw but catch the light in brilliant copper and bronze. How long his fingers are when he sets down his pencil, how tapered, how good they feel when they run up Albert's sides or down his legs...

"I gotta use the bathroom first!" He bolts, mostly to dunk his head under a freezing tap.

"U-uh...o..kay." Jet stared at Albert's retreating back as he ducked into the other room, both confused and slightly grateful the temptation to stick his tongue down his best friend's throat wasn't still there at the moment.

He forced himself to focus on the paper in front of him and get as much of it done as he could before Albert came back and Jet was put back in the position of staring blankly at the paper while his mind devoted itself to the shorter teen.

Luckily, he has almost all of it done by the time the bathroom door opens again.

At the same time Albert is emerging from the bathroom, hair wet and shivering from having dumped cold water on himself repeatedly, the front door rattles open to reveal Edda Heinrich, bustling in to set her purse on the counter. She raises an eyebrow at her son as he comes padding back into the kitchen. "Warum sind Sie nass?"

"I, uh..." Scheisse. "Etwas war in meinem Haar." Nice save! Only not. He sits back down at the table as Edda eyes him sidelong while she removes her coat and hat.

"Have you finished your homework?" This time she speaks in her heavily accented English, addressing both boys present.

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