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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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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He watches a man make his way through the car as he speaks softly to Jet, a tall guy with hair hidden by his wool cap but a ruddy and worn face beneath. He has an empty paper cup and he keeps shoving it in the face of everyone he passes, silently asking for change. Most people ignore him, some give him an angry frown, though it might be a grimace for all Albert can smell him from here at the end.
"We both deserve some kind of future though, and they say if you're educated you have a better choice." The train rolls to a stop as the muffled speakers announce 2nd Avenue in the garbled language of subway operators everywhere. Albert hauls Jet to his feet and tries to hurry them for the doors.
"C'mon, we're almost there."
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"No...but..you're right. All the more reason...for me not to go. You'd do so great...no distractions an' all." He wanted to go, it was a dim light in the blacked out room of his mind, the thought of going off with Albert and never leaving his side, but it was a light that didn't seem to want to stay on either. He caused Albert so much trouble, between Leo and his own father and Albert's mother who he loved so much--
He jerked to a stop, brown eyes wide with the sudden flare of a different light blinding out all else. "Your ma." He shook his head and stumbled back a step like he was trying to go again but he couldn't quite bare to leave Albert's touch either. He was selfish like that.
"Your ma hates me, I-I ruined it." His eyes clenched shut and his throat got tight, but his eyes were too dry and cold to waste the liquid needed to cry, instead the hand still on Albert's coat curled as tight as it could in the fabric. He couldn't go back there, he remembered now, he'd blown everything and it had fallen apart and she'd been so angry it sent terror and grief spiking through him.
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"I took care of it. She's not going to bother us. You didn't ruin anything." He pulls Jet closer again, not caring who sees at this point. There's no one around anyway; even the homeless man stayed on the train. He clutches Jet's shoulder, holding the taller boy to him and starting them walking unsteadily towards the exit to the station. "We're going to go home, you're going to sit in front of the stove with every blanket in the place, and I'll make you a hot drink. I'll take care of you."
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He didn't understand how Albert could have taken care of anything or how Jet hadn't ruined anything. No, neither of them could have known Edda was five minutes instead of two hours from home, but he still should have had some patience and kept his distance. Or at least a less compromising position.
He shook his head"trust you, Al." It was muttered groggily under his breath, but the next part he spoke up for, complete with slight confusion the observation warranted. "Ever since Leo...seems to me we're doing a lot more of taking care of each other than me watching out for you. Guess that's kinda funny."
What was also funny was how they were now just outside of the apartment complex and a new surge of anxiety flooded his system unbidden, but this time he didn't jolt.
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"I think," he starts, all but carrying Jet up the stairs. "You just realize I can, after punching that schweinhund in his stupid face."
He might still be a little angry. Seeing Jet vulnerable like that, or even like this tonight, it makes him want to fight anything and anyone who would do that to someone he held so dear. He would, too, which is so strange when he thinks of how quiet and shy he used to be, always doing what he was told and never rocking the boat even a little. Now he's punching boys in alleys and all but yelling at his mother and instead of being appalled at himself he decides it feels good to have his emotions on his sleeve like that. It's not for all the time, and he'd still rather go by the rules otherwise, but knowing that he has it in him when it's really important is empowering in a way he'd never felt before meeting Jet.
"So for right now, you can just let me take care of everything. You just worry about getting warm again." He fumbles for his key, but the door opens before them instead, revealing Edda's broad form and a wave of glowing warmth from the little pot bellied stove that can be felt even from there.
Edda doesn't say a word, she just stands aside to let them in and then retreats to fetch blankets.
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The warm air that blasted through the open door was like the air of a bonfire to his frozen everything and he nearly shied away from fear of burning, but it was too inviting to do anything but allow himself to shuffle towards it with Albert's support. Edda stood like an imposing mountain over Jet, impressive considering he was taller than her, but her presence wasn't nearly so stormy and dangerous as it had been when he'd last seen her.
His brain was too frozen, his thoughts too sluggish to come up with anything that wasn't base emotion. His eyes stayed glued to the floor and their feet instead.
In a matter of moments he found himself sitting in front of the stove that was radiating that searing heat. It hurt more than helped to start, but something was beginning to thaw. He shivered harder.
"...I'm s-s-sorry." It was so quiet and shaken by his body trying to warm itself up that he wasn't even sure she'd heard it. He wasn't even sure he wanted her too in case it just made things worse.
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"Liebchen, you just don't..." She starts to say, suddenly aware of her son's piercing eyes on her despite what she'd thought was a soft and gentle tone. She looks back at Albert, defiantly this time, and says her piece. To both of them. "You don't know any better. But we'll talk it out in the morning. Warm him up and get me if he worsens."
She lays out the blankets, one over Jet's shoulders, another at his side, and the rest on the couch before she disappears into her bedroom. It seems for now she doesn't want to talk about it.
Albert, on the other hand, mutters German epithets under his breath, not directed at his mother so much as at her attitude. He lets it drop when the kettle whistles and he brings the cocoa to his boyfriend. Like his mother, he's decided that now is not the time. Jet's health matters more.
"Are you feeling warmer?"