An- yes I have done it again, I started another smaller story not updating my other stories. I am sorry but I can't help it. This one was like a bug gnawing at me for days. I finally am going to shove it all out. Hopefully the entire story will be finished before the end of summer.
Summary- Ilan is American, born 18 years prior, speaks English, and is Jewish. Kurt is from a whole other era, speaks German, and has a swastika on his arm. Kurt seems to have it out for the young American and Ilan isn't too keen on being persecuted.
Warning- this is slash and it does deal with serious situations. It will not be as serious as you think it is, and I hope it won't be the stereotypical forbidden love story. Its also not a love-hate love story. Intrigued? Read please. And please review.
Part 1-psychosis is a head ache
My backyard is HUGE! Honestly, there are perks to living on the outskirts of town. I get a five mile wide backyard for instance and a reason to get a car as soon as I turn sixteen just so I can get to school. So much better then being late everyday.
Unfortunately, the butt of my problems isn't school or anything like that. I have friends in school, a loving family, and good grade. Yeah I know, I'm boring. Eat me.
But I do have problems. I am a teenager, a male teenager at that so I get the honor of staring at a piece of wood and somehow managing to think about sex. I also had acne really badly when I was twelve. I thought I would have to go on the pill just to get my hormones in control, not the most pleasant feeling in the world. My friend, freaking brilliant artist that he is, drew a perfect replica of the prison tattoo 12 on my arm which was not funny. I'm Jewish and you never know who's going to take shit like that seriously.
Besides that, my life hasn't been too complicated. My imagination is pretty fascinating though. My huge backyard was the home to many epic adventures. When I was a kid I would become a pirate and attack against the 'establishment' or I would be slaying dragons. Even now, at the age of 18 I am in my back yard while my mind goes wild. I just listen to music and watch the sky, imagining all the strange things I wished would happen in the world. My entire world was completely imaginary, well at least most of it was.
When I was six years old, someone went through my backyard, and let me tell you that is rare. He was barely a teenager I think and he looked half starved. I was six and stupid so the entire concept of strangers didn't register in my brain. I gave him food and stole clothes from my older brother to give to him, because his own looked ripped and dirty. He didn't utter a single word and I talked like the stupid little six year old I was. I don't think he understood me because he just nodded his head and looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. After he was done I took him back into the forest in our back yard and he seemed to find his way back. Besides him, no one has ever been in my sanctuary.
So imagine my surprise when a blonde hair, blue eyed guy with a swastika on his arm goes running through my backyard. What do I do? What any normal 18 year old guy with an attitude and a sense of self; I get a shot gun.
The first shot jerked a lot more then anything else I had shot before, but I was a good aim. Almost immediately the Aryan bastard was staring at me, fear on his face. I pulled back the shotgun and aimed it again, getting closer incase I actually did have to shoot him.
"Get the fuck out of my backyard!" I shout. He blinks and the fear leaves his face. Its replaced by confusion and something else I can't name. I take aim. "I said get the fuck out of my backyard!" I let off another warning shot before aiming for him.
He blinks at me again and looks like he's debating something. He isn't looking at the gun in my hand, he's looking at my face. My jade eyes are locked with his blue ones and I see the confusion apparent in his gaze. Suddenly his eyes widen in realization. Apparently in the three seconds it took to look at my face he saw that I was Jewish. After a second he turns around and takes off back into the woods. I wait a good fifteen minutes before turning back into my house and closing the door.
Yeah I honestly can't say that happens a lot in this town. I'm pretty sure the home owners association has a problem with neo-Nazis, considering they are their own breed of Nazis. I sigh and lock the door when the phone rings.
"Ilan, what the fuck was that?" That's my sister Alyai. I forgot she still lived here. She's sixteen so she should live here, but still. She Alyai, my sister who lives somewhere in this house. I have no idea where cause she doesn't leave very often and I never have a reason to go visit her, lucky me.
Who am I kidding? I love her. Its not her fault if she's socially retarded and called me on the phone when she could… um come down from wherever she was.
"Some jackass was running through our backyard," I respond. "Its all right. I got rid of him."
"I don't think dad will like you using the shotgun," Alyai actually sounded disappointed. She wanted to use the shotgun.
"Dad won't mind when I tell him some guy with a swastika was wondering by."
"What? Ilan you call the cops!" My sister was reprimanding me. I glare at the phone.
"That negates the reason for having the guns," I snap. I can hear my sister seething and worrying over the phone. "Will you stop that? Its over, he's gone. We can get used to nothing ever happening again."
"Fine! Just tell dad."
I hang up the phone and roll my eyes. Honestly, we are not all freaks who hide in our rooms. Some of us know the world, we know its realities.
I put the gun back in the garage where its stored and go back into the kitchen. I figure I should go up to my room and do my homework. Its due tomorrow and I honestly have nothing better to do. I'm not about to go back into our back yard until I'm sure I won't find the neo-Nazi in there. I go up to my room and attempt to work on my stuff but after two minutes I lay my head against the back of my hand and intend to fall asleep. Before I know it my mother is calling me down for dinner. I do so groggily meeting my brother on the way down.
"Hey kid," Mica says smiling while he messes up my hair. I don't bother to fix it. I don't care. "So are you now prodcasting to the world our heritage?" I give him a look and he pokes me in the forehead.
"Mica don't bother your brother," Our mother says as she rustles by setting plates out on the dinning room table. My dad is over at the table reading a newspaper while Alyai is resting her face directly on the table.
"I'm not bothering him mom," Mica protests half-heartedly. "He's got the star of David on his forehead."
That gets my attention. "What?" I say and look towards the nearest reflective surface which happens to be the microwave. Sure enough there is an intricate Star on my forehead. I take some wet paper towels and begin to scrub it off. Honestly where did that come from?
"So thinking of getting a tattoo little brother," Mica asks. My brother has no problem reminding me who is older between the two of us.
At Mica's words, my mom abruptly slams the salad on the table and looks at me, her eyes wide.
"Are you Ilan?" She asks softly. I glare at my brother for even suggesting it. Her hands are gripping the salad in a vice and I'm afraid she's going to in some way kill it.
"No, of course not. Mica's just being stupid." I push my loser brother away from me and he just chuckles. Mom does not look convinced.
"Honestly Ilan, if you are I want to know. We have to find a place sterile and we have to see if your allergic to the ink. Oh my god, we have to look up hepatitis statistics. I wonder how many days you have to get that cured before you'll go insane…"
"Mom! I am not getting a tattoo," I shout to get her attention. My parents completely ignore me.
"Dear if he wants to get a tattoo, don't make such a big deal about it. Otherwise he'll get some prison convict to do it while your not looking." That is my dad's words of wisdom. Mom is paling and she tries to unclutch the salad.
"Oh no prisons please," She pleads with me. "I won't go with you, scouts honor, just let me do some research."
"Mom," I repeat myself louder and effectively cut her off. Something in the corner of vision catches my eye and I see the Star my friend had drawn on me earlier that day. Oh… moment of epiphany. "I'm not going to get a tattoo. I fell asleep on my hand… which Trent drew on me." I lift it up and show it to her. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Why does Trent draw on you?" She asks.
"Because Trent is an art freak who feels anything that is one color continuously is a easel and a blank portrait." Mica is getting a kick at this. He's snickering, barely containing laughter.
My mom looks at me for a long minute. Her expression, muscle by muscle is slowly relaxing. "Are you sure your not going to get a tattoo?"
"Positive," I respond.
"Ok, lets eat," and with that, my mom sits down at the table, a smile on her face. Sheesh, talk about bi-polar? "So what's new with all of you today?"
I'm barely sat down and settled when Alyai comes up for air and hisses out, "Ilan shot a Nazi."
Dad drops his fork and his head whips around to me. He was in the middle of passing mashed potatoes but I don't think I'll be getting them anytime soon. Dad looks just as worried as mom.
"What was that Ilan?" He says like I had blurted that out. I glare at Alyai. Tattling brat never learned from the self made stocks I guess.
"A guy with a swastika was in our backyard. I told him to get off of our lawn," I answer trying to be vague.
"He used a shotgun," Alyai interjects. I scowl at her.
Dad looks scandalized. "Shotgun!"
"Oh baby he didn't hurt you did he?" Mom asks and feels my forehead. Apparently being around the anti-Semitics automatically gives you a fever.
"No mom, it was more of an overreaction," I say and lean away from her hand. Honestly I'm afraid she'll get the thermometer.
"He shot two shots," Alyai says. Informative bitch.
Mom gets up and runs to the bathroom.
"Seriously, this is not that big of a deal. I only fired one to get his attention. When he didn't do it immediately I shot off another one."
"He didn't leave immediately!" Dad gets like this. When he's upset he repeats everything that is said. It slays me every time.
Mom comes back into the room with an old thermometer and sticks it in my mouth. "Here put this under your tongue," She demands.
"Mom, I am fine," I respond and she just shoves the stupid thing farther into my mouth.
"Do it mister or we're going to the hospital."
I can't argue with that. Still I can't help but feel stupid, being eighteen and all and having a thermometer in my mouth. My male self esteem has hit an all time low.
"Did you call the police?" Mom asks and I wonder how she plans for me to answer with a thermometer in my mouth. Luckily my sister has a big mouth.
"No he didn't," Alyai throws me a cold look. I glower at her. This is all her fault.
"Why not?" Mom whirls on me.
"Cause he's a man and he's stupid," Alyai inserts. Mom rips the thermometer out of my mouth and examines it.
"Alyai no one wants to hear your feminist borderline lesbian statements," I snap. For the first time I realize Mica is giggling beside me. I feel a bit better that I don't giggle.
"Just because your stupid doesn't make me a feminist," Alyai counters.
"No, but insinuating that I'm stupid because I am a man is extreme feminism and don't let the whores from school tell you any different."
"Ilan, don't call girls whores, even when they deserve it," My mom reprimands me and sets the thermometer down. "Its 99.1. You must be coming down with something."
"Do you want me to take him to the emergency room mom?" Mica asks a little to gleefully.
"Will you stop! It's a few degrees above normal! That doesn't mean anything." I am indignant. Honestly 99.1? Is she kidding me?
"I'm not taking any chances with my baby," Mom says.
"I am not the baby," I state. Every one ignores me of course and is talking about how to save me from my non-existent disease. I glare hard across the table, wanting so badly to kill something. Finally when I can't take it anymore I slam my fists against the table.
"All right, everyone calm down right now!" I shout. Immediately I get silence, sweet silence except for that ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at me and I stare back. "I am perfectly fine. I made someone who was not welcomed on our property go away. He didn't hurt me and I just scared him. I am not going to the hospital so don't even think about it." Mom opens her mouth to protest but I cut her off. "I am five degrees above normal. That could just mean that all of this- " I wave my hands frantically at all the hysterical people " - is stressing me out. I'm sorry I didn't call the police but its over and its done, so stop annoying me or I will go up to my room without eating. Is that clear?"
Slowly, everyone nods and when I'm satisfied I sit back down. I put an insane amount of potatoes on my plate and stab a fork through it. There is complete silence and it is awkward to everyone besides me. I don't get awkward with silences, ever. Silence fits me just fine.
"So…" My dad finally breaks through the heavy stillness. "Did you get 'em?"
I roll my eyes and make a frown with my mashed potatoes. I don't care what anyone says; a frown up side down is just an upside down frown. Optimist can bite me.