004: Albert Heinrich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
copesetic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2013-12-11 08:26 am
copesetic) wrote in makinglies2013-12-11 08:26 am
Entry tags:
New York State of Mind
It's been nearly a month and only now does Albert have his head on straight again. It took a near-death experience to do it, but in those moments he'd thought were his last when all the things he regrets went running the 'this is your life' marathon through his head one stuck out in particular. And that one is in a seventh story apartment that looms large and foreboding in the mid-autumn drizzle.
He pockets the scrap of paper he'd been clutching, address on it long since memorized. He should just go up there and say his piece. Most likely Jet will kick him right back to the street again. As well he should. Albert hadn't exactly been the model partner in the time they'd spent together. His heart had been in it, but the rest of him still quailed, afraid to get too invested, afraid that he would screw it all up regardless. At least if he didn't try then he could blame the failure on that. But that's not fair to Jet, and if he were honest not fair to himself either. He knows that now, that in his heart of hearts he's already invested. The things he's frightened of doing are the very things he wants more than anything. Jet, more than anyone else, makes him feel human.
Screwing up his courage, Albert walks right up to the door of the apartment building, then turns away and strides to the corner of the block instead, shoulders hunched against the freezing mist. He needs something first. He's not stalling. Really.
It's relatively slim pickings in the little bodega on the corner but Albert manages to pull several small bouquets into one large one. Roses and baby's breath might be a little cliche, but it's what they have and it's hopefully a gesture Jet will appreciate, especially since it cost Albert an entire day's worth of spending money. Not that it matters. If it softens Jet for even a moment, it'll be worth it.
If.
He stops on his trek back up the block, staring at the flowers as if they'd suddenly start speaking to him. It's too much, isn't it? Roses? That's what he would always do for Hilda when she was cross with him, buy her flowers or jewelry, but Jet isn't Hilda. He'd never thought of Jet as Hilda, of course, but flowers seem such a feminine gift...
No, it's fine. It'll be fine. Who doesn't like flowers?
Halfway up the stairs he wonders if maybe Jet doesn't like flowers, or he'll throw them back in Albert's face for trying to treat him like 'some broad'.
Two thirds of the way back down he kicks himself mentally to just do it, damnit! Stop being such a coward! He'll either like them or not but the flowers aren't the point. The point is he's here, he'll apologize from the bottom of his heart, and Jet will take him back.
Well, ideally Jet will take him back.
He's already in front of the apartment door when that nagging voice in the back of his head tauntingly asks how often things are ever ideal. He paces once, twice in front of the door, mouth a thin and troubled line cutting across his face as he hems and haws, trying to reconcile what he hopes will happen with what's more likely.
Just do it!!
He knocks, heart in his throat.
He pockets the scrap of paper he'd been clutching, address on it long since memorized. He should just go up there and say his piece. Most likely Jet will kick him right back to the street again. As well he should. Albert hadn't exactly been the model partner in the time they'd spent together. His heart had been in it, but the rest of him still quailed, afraid to get too invested, afraid that he would screw it all up regardless. At least if he didn't try then he could blame the failure on that. But that's not fair to Jet, and if he were honest not fair to himself either. He knows that now, that in his heart of hearts he's already invested. The things he's frightened of doing are the very things he wants more than anything. Jet, more than anyone else, makes him feel human.
Screwing up his courage, Albert walks right up to the door of the apartment building, then turns away and strides to the corner of the block instead, shoulders hunched against the freezing mist. He needs something first. He's not stalling. Really.
It's relatively slim pickings in the little bodega on the corner but Albert manages to pull several small bouquets into one large one. Roses and baby's breath might be a little cliche, but it's what they have and it's hopefully a gesture Jet will appreciate, especially since it cost Albert an entire day's worth of spending money. Not that it matters. If it softens Jet for even a moment, it'll be worth it.
If.
He stops on his trek back up the block, staring at the flowers as if they'd suddenly start speaking to him. It's too much, isn't it? Roses? That's what he would always do for Hilda when she was cross with him, buy her flowers or jewelry, but Jet isn't Hilda. He'd never thought of Jet as Hilda, of course, but flowers seem such a feminine gift...
No, it's fine. It'll be fine. Who doesn't like flowers?
Halfway up the stairs he wonders if maybe Jet doesn't like flowers, or he'll throw them back in Albert's face for trying to treat him like 'some broad'.
Two thirds of the way back down he kicks himself mentally to just do it, damnit! Stop being such a coward! He'll either like them or not but the flowers aren't the point. The point is he's here, he'll apologize from the bottom of his heart, and Jet will take him back.
Well, ideally Jet will take him back.
He's already in front of the apartment door when that nagging voice in the back of his head tauntingly asks how often things are ever ideal. He paces once, twice in front of the door, mouth a thin and troubled line cutting across his face as he hems and haws, trying to reconcile what he hopes will happen with what's more likely.
Just do it!!
He knocks, heart in his throat.
no subject
But then his fingers are gentle again as they card through soft strands. Maybe he was acting little protective and definitely a little possessive, but this was the happiest he'd felt in a while. From last night to this moment, he felt like everything was perfect and that wasn't a usual feeling for him. It was all Albert's fault and Jet knew it.
He had the urge to thank him for reasons he wouldn't even explain, but he kept it to himself and let the press of his lips to Albert's temple and the tightening of his hold do the talking.
no subject
Albert's fingers unlace themselves and roam a little, touching for its own sake rather than trying to get Jet going again. His cold palms run over the curve of the younger man's backside, the German smiling again at how soft that curve is even as he traces one hand down to reach the bottom of Jet's foot, his metallic fingers making a soft clinking noise against the rim of the exhaust vent.
Still feeling amorous, Albert kisses Jet's shoulder lightly, enjoying the fingers in his hair and the possessive embrace Jet has him encased in. If he had his way, he'd never leave it.