makinglies | Need another story, something that I can confess

Entry tags:

Need another story, something that I can confess

He tried to be understanding and patient and he was generally pretty good at it when he came to this stuff--or at least, he tried. He didn't say anything about Albert coming here every year, rain or shine and the few times he came with, like now, he hung back and let Albert do his thing.

But today was overcast and rainy and chilly and Jet got cold easily so his jacket just wasn't cutting it, making him more cranky than usual. Besides, as he watched Albert's body language change signalling he was finally done talking or whatever he did, it occurred to Jet that he honestly didn't understand the point of coming every year. He could understand paying respects, but he didn't think it had to be a yearly thing....or that Hilda would be horribly offended if they'd waited for a day that was a little warmer.

He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, rubbing at them a bit, as he waited for Albert to head back over. "It's freezing, I don't get why you come here every year, it's always cold." A bit of a sour look crossed his face, but it passed and he actually sought out the older cyborg's eyes. "You okay?" As much as he didn't get it, he did know it was important to his partner and Jet wasn't so insensitive to not understand how hard it probably still was even years later.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He almost flinched at how easily Albert could read him. Normally, it didn't bother him. If anything it would make him feel better knowing Albert understood him, but right now it just made him feel exposed and more fire brewed in opposition to that weak feeling.

He was trapped. Trapped between wanting to open the folder and be done with it, his partner who was only trying to help him the best way he could think of and Jet's own pride and fear that left him wanting to fly away instead.

"You can take your damn psych-crap and shove it, Albert!"

He didn't wait for a reply, he was gone and slamming the door behind him just so he didn't have to wait and see if he'd hurt the German's feelings.

He was pretty sure he had.

The sound of the door rattling on its hinges dies away in Albert's stillness. He hates when this happens, when Jet flies off the handle and out the door in a fit of attitude. Usually it's over something menial and eventually Jet comes back or Albert goes after him, apologies are had, and they move on with their lives. It hurts, but it's manageable and it's happened less and less as time passes.

This is different. This is something where he's not certain he was in the right for bringing it up or even for pursuing it. Jet wasn't just angry, he was frightened. More than frightened, and in his haste to try and help, Albert had been incredibly insensitive to that. He doesn't know the details and so he couldn't have guessed how deeply Jet had been wounded by his past, yet he'd blundered through and pressed anyway.

No wonder Jet had left.

He's silent still for a few more minutes, moving to clean up the dinner he'd prepared. He finds he has no appetite now. Standing at the sink, he decides he'll give Jet at least a few hours of space, maybe a full day, enough time for the younger man to calm down, and then he'll seek him out to apologize. In the mean time, he can punish himself for his stupidity through loneliness.

Jet had flown off, but only so far as the roof of the apartment building. He paced a bit and found himself at the small door that was the roof access. He didn't reach for it.

His mind was racing with the conversation that was really more of an argument he'd just had with Albert. The older man was trying to help him, he knew that, but it felt like anything but help which, coming from his partner, made it more like a smack in the face.

It wasn't even Albert's fault, not really. He'd done the research, yes, but anyone in their situation would want to know this stuff, it wasn't Albert's fault Jet didn't. He didn't deserve to have his head bitten off because sweeping problems under the rug doesn't mean they go away, they're just as ugly if not uglier once that rug's been thrown aside.

The hand unknowingly still holding the folder tightened.

Albert had gone a little too far in not asking Jet first, but Jet shouldn't have blown up at him. When he did things like that, the only difference between father and son was that Jet's fists didn't fly. Most of the time. Sometimes they did and after he'd calmed down he'd sink into his own personal ocean of self-loathing. Every time he drank, every time he lost his temper, every time he felt like he'd hurt those around him, he wondered if this was just a symptom or a sign of things to come.

That was the fear that plagued him, never mind all the shit his dad had said that part of him still believed, he'd rather it all turn out true than turn out like his pa. Not knowing, not even thinking about it, it had made him feel like he could distance himself from all of that so it wouldn't happen, but now he could know and he felt closer to it than ever.

And the worst thing was realizing the distancing hadn't helped in the slightest.

A dull thunk reached his ears just and pain receptors flared up his hand and into his arm as his empty right fist collided with the metal door.

The pain and anger and fear that had filled him dulled as a listless haze filled his mind and took the strength from his knees. He stayed there a long while, propped up against the metal door, damaged knuckles stinging and the folder laid in front of him like it was mocking him.

An hour passed and his hand found the front cover, another half and his thumb hooked under the edge, another fifteen minutes and the front cover peeled away to show the information he dreaded and desired.

Another hour found him leaning against the door frame, eyes staring at the familiar number printed on the door. The undamaged knuckles of his right hand tapped lightly at the door after another five minutes passed. For all he knew, the door was open, but he didn't feel like he was in a position to walk in if it was.

It's getting past one am and Albert's still awake, periodically pacing his apartment and wondering if he should forget the whole 'space' idea and go look for Jet. It's not snowing for the first time in maybe a week, but it's cold and he's certain Jet does't have any money...

His hand's almost on the handle already when there's a knock. Breathing a cautious but relieved sigh, Albert pulls it open, seizing the red head up. He doesn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' sticks in his throat so he can't get it out. Instead he settles for something simpler. "Are you alright?"

Jet's tone is even and calm, more sedated than the anxious and angry ball of uncertainty he'd been earlier. He held up his right hand so he could show his scraped up knuckles. "I got in a fight with a metal door."

It was an attempt at humor but it was small and his eyes fell to Albert's chest as he continued leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

"Yes, I'm fine." It came out instinctively but his lips twitched down at the corners. "No...I'm not. I'm sorry I snapped at you." His eyes drifted back up to find Albert's and his tone developed a note of hope. "Can I come in?"

"I'll get a compress for your hand." He leaves the door open and inviting for Jet to enter, retreating to the kitchen for a dishtowel and some ice. In hindsight, this should be exactly what he expected, but Albert's just glad that Jet is home safe with nothing worse than abrasions. He could have gotten in a fight with something that could actually fight back.

Letting out a steadying breath he returns to Jet's side and takes his hand, pressing the towel-wrapped ice to his partner's knuckles. He's silent for another moment, eyes trained on what he's doing instead of anything else. Eventually, he finds his voice again. "You don't have to apologize. I went too far."

He entered the apartment and closed the door behind him, only moving away from the door far enough to deposit the abused folder on the nearest flat surface.

He was just as quiet as Albert pressed the ice to his hand--any lingering stinging disappearing under the numbing cold--and was just wondering if he should try and say something when Albert broke the silence first.

"A little, but I flipped out at you. You didn't deserve that. You were tryin' to help me out and I bit your head off for it."

He paused, sifting though the thoughts he'd had on the roof and attempting to find one that would cooperate enough for him to explain, but none came forward.

"I looked at it. Thanks for finding that stuff out...I know that address and she's probably good there." But that didn't stop the thought he'd had or the twisting unease that accompanied it. That part he was still debating on.

Edited 2014-03-30 02:29 (UTC)

"That's good to hear. I only found her and if she was alright, I didn't look into it any further than that." His voice is quiet as he adjusts the ice on Jet's hand, but also a little defensive, an echo that he had been trying not to step on Jet's toes even if the whole thing may have been ill advised.

He's silent for a long time, glancing at the folder and debating whether he should risk sparking another argument by asking. Ultimately, he doesn't think it will, so he can risk it. "...Are you going to go look in on her?"

Not face to face, they both know that would need too much explaining and be too hard not just for Jet but his mother too. Even Francoise, when she'd sought out Jean Paul, had simply watched the old man from afar with his grandchildren - her grandnieces and nephews that she would never know. She'd cried on Albert for a few minutes after they'd gotten back to the car, not sad so much as simply overcome.

"I'll stay here or go with you if you want me to, whatever you decide."

Jet's glad for the silence, it lets him think about the idea that had been tossing around in his head since he looked at the address. But then Albert asks him as though he can read Jet's mind and the teen goes still, eyes still glued to his hand.

"I...yeah. I think I will. Soon." He'd pretty much decided, he was just still trying to convince that part of him that wanted nothing to do with any of this; luckily, it was a shrinking part.

"...d'you mind? Going, I mean...I think I'd rather you did." Albert had just said he would, but Jet still felt a need to ask since he was just as unsure about that part as he was about even going.

The whole thing made him uncertain he ended up feeling like he was some kid all over again.

"Of course." Carefully, Albert leans forward and kisses Jet's temple, the kiss landing on hair more than skin but the intent is there. Comfort and support through any trial. "Anything you want."

Quietly, Albert removes the ice to check the swelling. Finding it abated, he reaches for a small roll of gauze - always kept handy, considering their lives - and methodically wraps it around the abrased knuckles. "Just don't go fighting any more doors, alright?"

Jet smirked. "Hey, he started it, I was just defending myself."

He caught Albert's hand as it finished patching his and held it. He wanted to apologize again, maybe say how much Albert caring enough to do this for him, with him meant to him. How much Albert meant to him.

Long arms entwined around the shorter man and held him tight to Jet's chest as he did his best to bury his face in soft white hair.

He didn't want to seem clingy or overly-emotional in case what he was trying to say didn't get across, so he moved to let go only moments later, but even just that hug bolstered his spirits from the depths they'd sunk to.

The hug is a surprise. At least, at first Albert thought it was since he'd been assuming the redhead was still angry with him in that way where you don't want to be but you can't quite help it just yet. Instead he gets tangled in Jet's arms and a nose buried in his hair.

It only takes half a moment for him to wind his arms around Jet's narrow waist in return. He's relieved not to be in the dog house for longer; he's not sure how sleeping on his own couch would have one, especially when he knows Jet is having a hard time with the idea of seeing family again. He wants to be here for him, like Jet is here for him every year, every time he visits the Wall. There are no words for how much that means.

He lets Jet pull away when he wants and then stands to move towards the kitchen, but not without a gentle squeeze to his partner's shoulder. "I'll make us something hot to drink. Unless you're hungry?"

He shook his head and turned towards Albert's couch, intent on flopping himself over the cushions. "Just that hot drink, I'm not feeling that hungry." Except he did cause he always was, he just didn't actually want to eat right now.

"Well..I don't know, maybe something small."

He laid there, staring at the ceiling for more than a minute before getting up again. He was restless and felt anxious on top of still feeling like a bit of a jackass for the way he'd been treating his partner through this whole thing. Jet relocated at the small table that served as the dining room, turning his chair backwards as he sat facing Albert in the kitchen.

By the time Jet's returned to the kitchen, Albert's already reheated what he'd made for dinner. It's nothing special, just some canned soup and bread from the corner bakery, but it's warm comfort food and might be exactly what they need at the moment. The beer doesn't hurt either.

Albert sets the food in front of his partner without fanfare, sitting in his own place across from Jet soon after. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks." He flashes a small smile at the German before starting to poke at the food. Once he'd gotten a couple of spoonfuls in his mouth though, his appetite returned with a vengeance causing both bread and soup to vanish so fast, their being there at all could be up for debate.

His returned penchant for inhaling his food didn't stop Jet's brain from working over the issue still at hand, but he didn't give voice to it until his bowl was clean. "I think I'd rather go sooner instead of later. So I don't flake out or anything. Is that alright with you?"

Albert, by contrast, is barely half done with his bowl but he still pauses when Jet speaks, full attention on his partner. "Whenever you're ready is fine. I can make arrangements."

He'll need to take leave from his job again, which they might not like but he can always get another one. Not to mention plane tickets since Gilmore's in the arctic with some of the others on a mission. He'll have to rent a car too, since the address is nearer a suburb. In fact, he's not sure if it's in New York City at all but instead in New Jersey. He'll have to take a look at the file again.

Even so, he'll take care of it all so Jet doesn't have to think about the logistics. "Just tell me when."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Need another story, something that I can confess

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject