This may just be my fluffiest fanfic Wendla/Melchior this time (*gasp!*).
The air was cold. The rain came down hard. Even so, Melchior Gabor sat at his favorite spot in the woods, concentrating on his latest journal entry. Even though the oak tree he was under prvided some shelter, raindrops still fell through the leaves, wetting both his face and the pages of his leather journal. Melchior didn't notice, immersed in thought.
"Melchi!" He looked up from his writing at the call of his name. In the distance he saw a cloaked figure running towards him. As the figure came closer, he realized that it was none other than Wendla Bergmann, navy-blue dress clinging to her drenched stocking-clad legs, and with a blue shawl covering her already wet hair.
Melchior grinned. He and Wendla had planned to meet in the woods today, and he was glad to see that even the rain wouldn't stop them. She sat next to him, panting and shivering, but happy. He closed his journal and placed it on the ground as she untied the shawl that was practically stuck to her hair.
Wendla turned, looking deeply into the glistening brown eyes of her lover. They didn't even need to talk around eachother, since it seemed that their eyes said everything they needed to say. Melchior brushed a damp curl away from Wendla's soft pale face, and let his hand linger on her ice cold cheek. Rain continued to fall through the leaves of the tree.
Melchior decided to take advantage of the moment they were sharing, and slowly leaned towards Wendla's face and softly kissed her lips. Wendla, unresisting to the warmth of his lips, grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back passionately.
Melchior's hands traveled down to her back as they kissed, and layed her down onto the wet grass, no longer under the bit of shelter the tree gave them. Rain seemed to pour over the young lovers, turning patches of dirt into mud, and completely drenching their already wet skin. Neither of them noticed, too preoccupied with eachother.
They finally separated, water dripping off of them. Mud splattered both of their rain-drenched clothes. They again took refuge under the oak and lied down, Wendla gently resting her head on Melchior's shoulder, still oblivious to the drops of rain dripping off of the branches of the tree.
And there they stayed, cuddled together, until the rain stopped.
I told you it was fluffy. Don't say I didn't warn you. I wrote this during Geography class today when I should've probably been paying attention. :P
So when you guys are done throwing up from the severe sweetness of this story, R&R, pwease?