A Series of Anti-Climaxes Parts 1 and 2
Jul. 26th, 2007 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: The Hint of a Spark
Fandom: Spring Awakening (general)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Moritz/Melchior
Summary: Sometimes the things about ourselves that perhaps we should question, should pay attention to, are the very things we don't see ourselves until after they've been revealed to those around us.
It was an exceedingly nice afternoon. A dry heat embraced them with a sort of comforting touch -- but still, it pulled at their jackets, itched at their skin, and as they stumbled under the shade of a tree they quickly discarded their woolen cages of jackets and unbuttoned their vests.
The ground beneath them was rough and uneven, intertwined with large, spider-esque tree roots and scattered leaves and branches. When Moritz leaned back against the chipping bark, it rubbed painfully against the back of his head. When he looked out, however, the ground spread out before him was dabbed with spots of sunlight like an impressionist painting, and he was willing to endure the reality to experience the fantasy.
They filled the silence with idle chatter.
“It's a lovely day today,” Moritz commented
“A little sweltering,” Melchior said, pushing up his sleeves and glancing at the sun with slight distaste.
“At least the heat is better than the bleakness of winter,” Moritz said.
Melchior didn't reply, but Moritz saw the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Moritz studied the black buttons on Melchior's vest as the other boy leaned back against the bark of the tree, closing his eyes and letting the leaves cast muddled shadows on his face. The stillness of the woods was peppered with bird's song, a slight breeze rustled the tree branches and made the shadows flitter about like living beings. Everything seemed strangely serene. But, it was an eerie serenity, and it made Moritz's skin crawl with something strange and unbidden.
The silence hung over them, and it ate at him but Moritz felt as though there was something new, something strange in this single moment that he wanted to grasp onto for just a second more, and a second after that, just to be able to understand it's meaning.
Moritz reached forward, tracing his thumb over the grooves in the button on his friend's vest. He wasn't sure, exactly – it wasn't the button. It was the action, somehow. Something in it made him hold his breath.
He glanced up and met Melchior's eyes – and there was no reason not to expect that, but somehow it broke something, pulled the color from Moritz's face, and made him feel that he'd made a mistake. He dropped into a fearful situation where he could not speak on his own behalf, even to himself.
There was nothing questioning or accusing in Melchior's gaze -- just that sort of affectionate amusement that lingered on Melchior's face, at times slightly mocking and other times slightly comforting, every time his eyes fell on Moritz. There were questions, however, weighing down Moritz's chest, blocking his throat, and when Melchior's fingers brushed lazily over his own just for a moment, perhaps meant and perhaps not, Moritz wasn't sure whether to flee or to burst into tears.
It wasn't that he didn't want this – or that he wanted it, he didn't even know, couldn't bring his thoughts into focus. He was left chasing feelings without logic and drowning in questions, questions, questions.
A Series of Anti-Climaxes, Part 2
Title: Not Who I Used To Be
Fandom: Spring Awakening (musical)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Anna/Wendla
Summary: Anna – Anna couldn't lead anyone. She was sure of that.
Notes: For
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Wendla wasn't the oldest in their group, or the bravest, or maybe even the prettiest – maybe. She was always... in charge, though. As they wandered the woods, they always followed behind her. Anna wasn't entirely sure how that unspoken position came to be. Perhaps it was process of elimination.
Anna – Anna couldn't lead anyone. She was sure of that.
Thea certainly couldn't lead them. She was strong, opinionated – but not for herself. She stood behind others wonderfully – championing their opinions and their logic, but when she had to make decisions, when she had people hanging on her word, she collapsed under the weight.
Martha, well. Anna found herself all too often the one trailing behind to talk to Martha, to take her hand, to draw her into the group. Martha was almost outside the group entirely – far from the front of it.
But, Wendla -- Wendla fell at the forefront with a kind of grace. Anna saw Wendla as the fierce one. She spoke fearlessly -- saying things that were unexpected, unpopular, occasionally unkind but always what she felt honestly. Anna tried to model herself after this example, and Martha told her once that she admired Anna – admired her fearlessness. But, she didn't see herself that way. She didn't care to see herself much at all – she wanted to see Wendla. Wendla, who was all at once fierce and proud but so much closer to childhood than the rest of them – Anna wanted to be that.
When Wendla said she was going to walk up to her uncle's farm – visit the horses – Anna asked to come with. She wasn't sure, exactly, what she was trying to accomplish by this, but it meant something to her.
“This is Uncle's favorite,” Wendla said knowingly, reaching through the bars to stroke the horse with adoration. “I don't remember its name, but it's kind. Would you like to feed it a carrot?”
Anna leaned against the opposite stall door, casting weary glances at the black horse behind her. She looked from Wendla to the nameless horse with a look she was sure lacked the confidence she was trying to conjure up. Anna's family had moved here only a few years ago, from the city, and all these large animals made her exceedingly nervous.
“I suppose,” she said.
Wendla reached into the sack at her feet and pulled out a knobbly looking carrot that was too short, far too short, when Anna wanted to put as much distance between her fingers and the nameless horse's mouth as she could. Anna took the carrot and gripped it as far down toward the end as she could manage, and looked the horse in the eye. Wendla had given it no name or gender and that only made it worse, only made it more of a mythical beast.
Wendla was impatient. She took Anna's hand in hers and gripped the vegetable with confidence, poking it through the bars for the horse to grab. As the horse broke off a piece with its large, imposing teeth, the carrot gave a crack and Anna jumped. Wendla giggled slightly, then looked away suddenly.
“I don't know if horses like me very much, Wendla,” Anna suggested, shaken.
Wendla took the rest of the carrot from her, holding it to the horse. “I'll teach you to get along with the horses, Anna. It just takes time, that's all – would you like to see the kittens?”
Kittens, Anna thought, were much more agreeable than horses. “Your uncle has kittens?”
Wendla grabbed Anna's hand and pulled her to the stall at the end of the aisle and Anna grinned without thinking. She didn't even mind the horse that was staring at her with it's large, otherworldly eyes from the stall next to her – she might not care for the barn and its horses but she didn't mind it, didn't mind trying, when Wendla was there, pulling her from place to place with an effortless, childlike wonder that Anna was trying desperately to cling to herself.
Wendla gripped the heavy stall door and dragged it open a crack, just enough for them to slip through. Wendla, petite as she was, slipped easily through the crack, and Anna followed her with a slow caution.
“See? Kittens,” Wendla said, sitting on the ground with no care for her clothes, which were pristine on the walk to the barn but were now stained with dust and dirt. Anna thought Wendla looked more herself that way anyway.
Anna knelt beside Wendla, carefully pulling up her skirt before she did so, and peered in the box of kittens. “They're precious,” Anna said, feeling she should say something. Her attention trailed away from the kittens as Wendla entwined her arm with Anna's, leaning against her shoulder as she pointed with her other hand.
“That one's my favorite,” Wendla said, her voice ringing with all the purity of a child.
Anna looked down at Wendla's head lying against her shoulder and she was struck with a sort of disappointment. Wendla was still a child. Wendla was enchanted by the animals and she clung to Anna like a daughter to her mother, and she must not see, must not understand, that Anna was hoping for someone, anyone... to cling to her like that for any other reason.
Wendla dipped her head back, her vivid eyes meeting Anna's, and then Anna saw it, there, in her expression. That tinge of fearful curiosity that made her realize that maybe, maybe everything she thought she knew about Wendla Bergmann, from her eternal childishness to her courageousness in everything, might be a farce afterall. Wendla's expression asked questions, asked guidance, told Anna that she wanted someone else to lead her somewhere for once.
Anna drew away, reaching to lift a kitten, tiny and mewing, from the box.
Anna couldn't lead anyone.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-27 02:16 am (UTC)AND KITTENS.
Oh and the ending made me DDDD: But then I remembered how awesome you are for writing it and for being awesome in general and how much I hart you to pieces. It cheered me up a little. :D
ISN'T THIS ICON AMAZING I WONDER WHO MADE IT.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-27 02:59 am (UTC)<3333
Date: 2008-11-02 02:27 am (UTC)That is all. <3
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 07:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 07:24 am (UTC)