Albert Heinrich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jungfuchs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2013-11-19 02:19 pm
jungfuchs) wrote in makinglies2013-11-19 02:19 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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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Compared to how things used to be, Jet was on cloud 9.
Tonight was no different. Curled up in a blanket by the fire while Albert finished his homework nearby, listening to the radio and generally hanging out until the lady of the house got home from her second job, Jet couldn't find anything to complain about.
Well maybe one thing: the complete lack of attention Albert was sparing Jet at the moment. They only had a few precious hours alone before Edda came home and they'd have to sleep and go about their days when they woke (at least until the weekends which were too short and too far apart) leaving them only this brief period to have together. Well, he could always fix this problem himself.
Quietly, the lanky teen stood with his blanket around his shoulders like a cape and silently swept over to his boyfriend, crawled on top of him and snuck between Albert's outstretched arms to effectively block the troublesome and likely boring book stealing away what was rightfully Jet's.
"Hey there, good-looking."
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This book, though, The Red Badge of Courage he hated at first. When they'd gone through the first several chapters in class he'd been bored and almost hateful, irritated at the main character for not understanding how completely terrible war really is. One night, irritated at his homework, he decided to just finish the entire thing in one go and be done with it. As it turned out, it was the author who understood, who exposed what was more in line with what Albert saw, even as a non-combatant. He's on his second read-through now when he's so rudely interrupted.
A quick, upside down glance at the clock to make sure his mother is nowhere near when she's due home, and Albert grins a bit, letting the book drop to the floor beside the sofa and deciding to hold Jet instead. "Well hi."
He says it with a blush. He's never been particularly good at witty banter.
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"I decided you're done with your homework." It was statement pure and simple and was quickly followed by Jet's lips pressed firmly against Albert's. The kiss was calm and claiming, with a hint of tongue to indicate he might want it deepened if the German were feeling so bold. He didn't really have anything in particular planned, just some kissing and laying on each other. Even he wasn't so daring as to try and have sex in the living room even with Edda's ETA a couple hours from now.
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And then freeze there, clutching so hard the skin puckers.
"Was im Namen Christi machst du!?" Edda Heinrich's purse hits the floor like an anvil, her voice rattling the ceiling and sending the ceiling fan swaying. She is a force of nature, a hurricane or tornado, black clouds crackling doom behind her head as she descends on the two boys, roughly dragging Jet by the back of his collar from atop her son like an avenging angel of the end times.
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He didn't hear the door open, but he heard the outraged German and the storm clouds in Edda's wake. She didn't have far to yank him as he'd already half-risen the moment he realized what had just happened. Except...he hadn't realized it, not then, he was realizing it now as fear and shock warred for his expression and big brown eyes darted between the two Heinrichs. This was one of the worst things that could happen. He'd fucked up. Edda wasn't supposed to be home for hours and yet here she was and now everything was over because he couldn't just behave until nightfall.
What they were doing...everyone believed was wrong, they could've been shot if it were anyone else coming through that door, as it was, the only consolation was that Edda wouldn't kill or ruin her own son's life as anyone else would.
"Mrs. Heinrich--I--" what was he supposed to say? It's not what you think? Like hell it wasn't. He didn't mean anything by it? That was a lie and not one he was willing to tell. There was nothing he could say to appease the storm of rage he was facing and it was clear in his face.
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"Out! Go!" This she shouts in her broken English, barking commands just as frightening as in her mother tongue. She stands as a wall between Jet and the rest of the apartment, leaving the door the only way out.
Albert snaps from whatever daze of fear the exchange sent him into, tumbling from the couch in his haste to stand. "Mutter! Mutter, Aus!"
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His eyes try to find Albert's as the older boy scrambles to get up, but he can't look at him for long. "I'm sorry..." It's small and scared and sounds like it belongs to a ten year old and not the sixteen year old who said it and he doesn't even know if it's directed to one or both of them, but before he can ruin anything any worse, he's out the door and running.
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"Jet! Jet! Come back!" He screams it, his own voice scratching his throat with the desperation of his cries, but Edda won't budge and in his fury he rounds on her, hands balled into fists even with no real threat of raising them to his mother. "Mutti, wie konntest du ihn werfen, nach allem, was er durchgemacht hat?! Sie rief ihn ein Teil unserer Familie, wie konntest du wieder auf das gehen?!"
"Er verdirbt Ihnen! Er ist ein schlechter Einfluss!"
"Er hat mich gerettet! Jahrelang war er mein einziger Freund, und jetzt sind wir --" Albert swallows, uncertain for a moment before his eyes turn to cold steel and he looks straight at his mother, voice suddenly calm and cold and deadly serious. "Ich liebe ihn. Und ich werde nicht ihn allein da draußen einfrieren zu lassen."
Grabbing his own jacket as well as Jet's, Albert takes advantage of his mother's shock and breezes past her even as she tries to find words. "A-Aber ... das ist ...sündige."
"Es ist die Liebe. Wie ist das eine Sünde?" The door shuts behind him and Albert clatters down the stairs of the building, tying his scarf as he goes.
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She'd accused him of corrupting Albert. Was that true? Albert had only shown an interest in girls before and then Jet had opened his mouth and--but he couldn't even find it in him to regret it. Albert's hands on him, the feeling of his lips, those eyes staring into his...he wouldn't trade any of it. He'd never been happier, felt safer or stronger than when he was with Albert. Was he wrong for all of that too?
He ran until his lungs burned so bad not breathing seemed kinder and Jet collapsed against a chain-link fence, just outside of the pool of light a street lamp offered. Snow soaked his pants and shirt and the shivers he hadn't felt before shook his thin frame harder. If he couldn't shake the curse off, maybe he'd sit here and freeze to death instead and take it with him. Maybe that would be better. He let himself slip to his side and curl up, tears tracking down his face and leaving warm spots that chilled instantly.
Why did he always ruin the good things in his life?
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"Er war barfuß," she tells him in a soft voice. "Er wird diese. ich werde-"
She interrupts herself and Albert pauses briefly in taking the books, looking at her face expectantly but with an urgency that he won't stay much longer.
"Ich werde dir helfen zu suchen."
He looks at her eyes for a moment longer, then nods, some of his anger soothed by her offer of help. A moment later and they take separate paths from the apartments.
Nearly an hour later and Albert's almost called himself hoarse crying Jet's name into the freezing wind. His nose is numb and his fingers frigid even in their gloves as he continues his search, refusing to give up even after turning up empty in all the places he usually haunts with Jet. The music store, the corner shop, the alley behind the neighborhood garage. None of these places show any sign that Jet's been there, but with the snow starting to fall and land in big, blanketing clumps, Albert's starting to wonder if any trace had been covered up and the only way he'd find Jet would be as a picture of his frozen body in the newspaper.
He can't let that happen.
"Jet!" He cries again, scratchy but forcing his voice past his throat in near desperation as he passes the fence around Soundview Park, rattling the chain link as he runs his hand against it. "Jet, where are you?"
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It was so tempting.
Something breaks through the haze and threatens to drag him back to the surface with hands that are so cold they bite. No, he didn't want that, he wanted to stay and just disappear! But the hands were insistent and they latched on hard and heaved him into a half-consciousness. It wasn't the hands that bit into him with their chill, it was the winter wind and the thin layer of snow that covered him. The chill was threatening to reach right into his center as it had already claimed his limbs and the side he was laying on, leaving him virtually numb to anything else. But what was that sound? What was so important that he'd been dragged into a vague alertness?
A familiar voice called out loudly, calling Jet's name, trying to find him. He wasn't supposed to find him though, was he? Jet didn't think so. But he wanted the owner of that voice to find him, he wanted it desperately.
"Al-" His voice was quiet and rough from his ragged breathing and the frost that seemed to have settled in his lungs. But he had to try again, to get Albert's attention.
"A-Albert! Where are you?" It was scratchy and still quiet, but it was more than a whisper this time and a numb hand moved up of it's own accord and smacked against the chain of the fence at his back. How strange to hit something with a limb that didn't feel like it existed, but the sound it made was proof enough it had happened. He hoped it was enough, there was something he was forgetting, something important, but right now all he could think of was those silver eyes and that soft smile and how he wanted to be with his German and the warmth he had.
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Normally Albert may not have heard Jet's hoarse cry from the other side of the fence, but with the city silent under the muffling snowfall, the croak and rattle of the fence are enough to grab his attention.
"Jet! Scheisse," he can see him now, half covered in snow on the ground and in sharp relief against the sulfur glow of the street lamp. A moment more and Albert's all but vaulted the fence, climbing as if life depends on it - well, someone's does - and dropping to the ground on the other side just to promptly go to his knees and pull Jet close.
"You idiot, why didn't you take your coat?! And your shoes! You could have died!!" He fusses over his boyfriend, pulling Jet's coat around its owner. He's been carrying it this entire time. Jet's shoes too, which he tries to help the redhead get into next. He has to keep doing, keep fussing, or else the thought will actually take root that Jet still could die. That he's too late, that he couldn't protect the person who means the most to him in the world.
He tries not to notice when tears sting his eyes, or dribble hot down his chin. He just tries to get Jet into his snow boots. "We've been looking everywhere for you. I thought I'd never find you. You could have gone into the subway for shelter you know, not catch frostbite out here. N-not..."
He swallows, almost hiccups, and can't get the damned shoe tied. It's hard to see with tears fogging your vision.
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Jet only half-heard Albert's scolding, he was listening more to the tone because the words only made sense half of the time like he couldn't quite hear right or maybe he just couldn't process it. What he did process was the strain in his boyfriend's tone, the waver and break and that strangled way you get when you're trying not to cry but you can't stop it. Jet reached up and brushed too-cold fingers against Albert's cheek, his hand still pale and nearly blue at the tips. He couldn't make his fingers work, but he could still do that much.
"Hey...what's the tears for?" His voice came out tired and fractured here and there by the quakes still claiming him. He was groggy, sleep still seemed so appealing, but first he needed to know what was wrong with the one person who should never have reason to cry.
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"Come on." He doesn't stand right away, instead pulling Jet in to loop the taller boy's arm around his shoulders, then rising from his crouch. It's awkward with them both in their wool coats, the fabric of Jet's sleeve chafing Albert's already raw face where it peeks through the loops of his scarf, but he doesn't care. He has Jet and he's going to take him home.
"Let's go home. We'll start a fire and make cocoa so you can warm up." He puts one foot in front of the other, half supporting half dragging his marginally responsive boyfriend. "I'll dump every blanket we own on you, you'll be warm in no time."
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His body was fighting to stay warm, the shivering starting and stopping, but with his hands nearly blue and his feet only just starting to warm again with the boot's insulation, warming his core was taking a long time.
But the thought of being warm and curled up with Albert sounded nicer than anything else he could sort-of come up with. That was when the feeling of dread came over him and an image of Edda came to mind. What was it that had happened? Something had happened.
"What about...your ma?"
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"Do you ever wonder what Dodger Stadium looks like in the snow? They never play baseball in the snow even though they keep playing football, why is that?"
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"Guess cause...you're already running into each other, so if you slip no one's even really gonna notice." Made sense to him. "Bet the stadium's all quiet. Lookin like someone threw a blanket on it." It was probably really peaceful...in his jacket and boots he could probably lay down in that silence and fall asleep so easily, peacefully.
His head bowed a bit and he got a little heavier in Albert's grip, leading him to stumble over his own feet as he nearly fell asleep just thinking about it. Wouldn't it just be easier if Albert left him there to sleep a little while? Then he'd be able to walk normal and not burden Albert.
"Sorry, Al...m'so tired."
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And if his mother has further complaints, she'll have to go through Albert to voice them.
"It's not that much longer, Jet. Hey, why don't you tell me about air force planes? You did your book report on that, right?" Stay awake. Please stay awake.
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"There were these planes they were gonna make...in the war, you know. Assault gliders that were supposed to land in a place first and secure it so other people could move in. It was gonna have...something like eight people to this one tiny plane...crazy. They cancelled the project. Guess someone thought it wasn't so good a idea."
They were heading into the subway now, he could tell cause the wind suddenly cut off and the stench of the place was unmistakable. Some lucid part of his mind wondered at how far he'd gotten that they now needed to take a train to get home. His head filled with static as he tried to think about what it was he was missing, it was there, he could feel it but it was just out of reach.
Violent shivers ran through him and chattered his teeth but he kept his feet moving as long as Albert kept walking. "Hey, Al, how much longer till we get there?" His mind hiccuped and instead of waiting for an answer, he carried on with another, suddenly important question. "I can't remember: what was your report on? Music or something?" Or was it birds? It was too hard to focus on anything beyond moving and not falling asleep like Albert so clearly didn't want him to.
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It's all they had in class, little masculine gestures to hide what encouragement they can't actually express for fear of slurs and potential physical harm.
"The train should be coming soon. You know, before New York, I'd only ever been on a train once?" He switches topic, stream of consciousness his only lifeline at the moment. "It was to get to the coast so we could sail here. I told you about that, right? How there was the old man who went crazy and tried to tame the rats?"
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The train pulled up and some people came out, most of them ignoring the two boys and the others only sparing them a glance before moving on. Jet was barely aware of any of them, they were just more background noise his tired and frozen brain couldn't process.
"But...I know you played nice. Everyone's impressed. You're good at that." He liked Albert's playing, Jet had had the thought once that Albert might even be able to do something with that skill someday.
He didn't speak again until they were in the train car and moving (the learch having caused Jet to fall more against Albert and stay there because of his boyfriend's warmth.)
"You're gonna...go off and be some...music guy or something."
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They settle in on the train and it's so much warmer in here. Not because of any heating, but the residual warmth from the press of commuting bodies earlier that day and being underground and insulated from the biting cold. And even still Jet feels icy, but he seems to be shivering again which Albert takes as a good sign.
"I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying with you," he replies firmly, brokering no argument. "You need someone to look after you since you go do stupid things like run out into the snow with no coat."
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He smiled and let his eyes drift close for a moment. He could half imagine it: Albert all grown and filled-out and some handsome composer or something. Maybe even a teacher at one of those 'brainschools' that nerdy look was good on him. But then rats started performing circus tricks around adult-Albert's desk and Jet jolted as the train lurched again.
"...can't go to brainschool....they don't like pets." He was talking about the rats, but it occurred to him a moment later that it really just came out as nonsense. "How many stops, Al?"
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He wracks his brain for something else to talk about, something that will keep Jet's attention long enough to get home. "You could come too, y'know. You're smart and you could get good marks if you actually turned in your work. I bet we could go to college together."
With everything that's happened, with what he's put on the line with his mother to keep Jet - and keep Jet safe - Albert doesn't even want to entertain the idea of letting him out of his sight.
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"No way...even if I hit the books hard over the next two years, they'd never let me in. Leastways, not the kind of places a guy like you should go." Maybe he'd be able to get into some small thing, decent but not great, but Albert deserved all those big name places. They'd take him too, Jet was sure. They paid money to people who were the first of their family to go and Al was super smart too. Jet knew he wasn't a dummy by any stretch, but he wasn't so smart as all that.
The train came to a stop, people left. People came on. The train moved on.
"But...it'd be nice. Don't really like the idea of you goin' off alone. Might be some pretty chick're......something. Gotta fend 'em off." He wasn't so out of it not to sensor himself and leave off the word 'guy,' there might not be a lot of people, but there were still some.
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