In the long run, where did it matter whether or not the system helped you? You could work around it, as Hänschen Rilow tended to do. Or rather, he could let it work for him. But now. All work is forgotten.
The girls giggle and laugh as they do, interacting with the boys for once in a long time, like they used to. Like they didn't. It seems almost private, like the sun shining on the field and flowers is intruding on something secret, something lost. He watches as Wendla tripped over a rock and squealed, not putting her hands out nearly quick enough in time to catch herself. But Melchior catches her before she hits the ground, his large, steady hands wrapping around her waist, letting her voice drain into the breeze and rush. Of course. He smiles. That's the way to go.
Hänschen's face turns to a shade-providing tree, where Georg stares into the distance. One simply passing by could happen to think he was looking at the flower beds and waving grass from afar. No, rather, if you look at the boy himself you can see his fingers tapping away at his thighs, presumably already thinking about his piano at home, his lessons tomorrow, and the music he already knows by heart. No need to keep trying. Otto just watches, nearly falling asleep, as he is facing the shadows cast by the rest of the forest and scattered trees. His eyes droop, his head resting against his chest.
Thea, Marta, and Anna are sitting now in the faerie circle, braiding flowers together into chains, much to Hänschen's scorn. Thea is humming and wiggling her foot back and forth, already restless, even after sitting two seconds. Martha is patient, tying the knots in the stems slowly and surely, messing up once every four or five. Anna, instead of tying, she is the one pulling the flowers out of the ground. Her tiny hands grip the stem right at the bottom and pull. Hänschen smirks. Why waste your time on something that dies within two hours?
Moritz is presumably home, where none of the others can see him, studying some more. No matter how hard he tries he is never good enough. The teachers are going to fail him anyway, and Hänschen feels a little guilt that the teachers and headmaster ought to feel but don't. Ilse isn't present either, despite her spirited adventures when all the friends were young, when this confusion and outburst wasn't present. This is a sacred moment, rarely found now, a stolen moment away from all authority and grace, and Hänschen is appreciating it for as long as it lasts, which surely can't be long.
Then there is little Ernst. He is the one intriguing Hänschen most at this time. He is not running, nor is he sleeping. It might seem he would be most in place with the girls, as he is such the sentimentalist. But no. His feet are bootless and sockless, waving back and forth in the rushing brook, the water taking over and flowing freely over his small but sturdy feet. They are pale white, and as innocent-looking as the rest of him, and Hänschen smiles. He stands up, trying to be ambiguous and hopes that none of the others break from their worlds to try and enter his.
"Hello, Ernst." It is obvious how startled the innocent is by the sound of Hänschen's voice. The blonde sits down beside the now overly-alert boy, who seems rather anxious and intruded upon. "H-h-hello. What do you need?"
Smirk. "Nothing, Ernst. Just came over for a talk. You are capable, aren't you?" Scooting closer to Ernst, Hänschen leans back onto his hands, tilting his face towards the sun. "H-h-have you a topic, H-h-hänschen?"
"What are you thinking about? Right now, at this moment?" Ernst's face flushes. Obviously something 'important.' What a laugh. "I'm thinking about why you blushed just now, why your face drains of colour when I sit by you but turns bright pink when I say anything to you. Why your back stiffens when I touch you, and why your breaths get shallower when I say your name. Do I frighten you, Ernst? Or is it something else entirely?" Hänschen trails off, turning to face the dark-haired boy, resting his hand on his knee.
Ernst's quavering smile drops off his face entirely, and his whole body begins to shake. "No, H-h-hänschen…" In truth, he seems mortified and terrified and… something else entirely appears in his eyes. His pupils dilate almost all the way.
"Do I seem a certain way to you, Herr Robel? Do I… arouse you?" Hänschen's eyebrows go up quickly and down again as Ernst turns over Hänschen's hand in response, obviously not trusting his mouth to reply, instead trailing the lines along the palm with his fingertips. "No need to reply. I have your answer in your eyes, Ernst."
Hänschen keeps back a smile as he leans in, capturing Ernst's lips with his own. A sigh comes from the innocent, allowing the blonde access. Ernst shudders, and Hänschen steadies him by letting his hand rest on the back of Ernst's head, pulling him closer and closer still. Ernst seems to wake up then, moving in sync with the more experienced boy. Pulling away, Hänschen smirks again, as he presses his thumb against the childlike boy's lips, trailing his own with his tongue.
"Well, Ernst, you certainly lived up to expectations. Perhaps exceeded them. Further assessment is needed, I think." A wink, and Hänschen pulls himself up, gripping Ernst's hand to lead him to a more…private place.