I'm in love with the musical Spring Awakening, as well as the straight play script. A lot of the idea for this came from the straight play. Ilse and Moritz are my favorite characters and I wanted to write a one-shot in Ilse's POV of what happened after she left Moritz standing by the river. Reviews are always accepted!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Spring Awakening or any of the characters.
She had only just ran away from him. It was what she did best – running away. Ilse had ran away from home when she was only fourteen to live a rebellious life among artists at a colony in Priapia. Two years had passed since then, and not much in life had gotten better for her. She was only admitted shelter in the colony if she offered her body to the artists who lived there. It wasn't any better from home, where she received the same torture from her father, but at least these men weren't family – at least these men weren't meant to love her in the way a father should. In fact, they weren't entitled to love her at all. She could deal with them. She could suck it up for a place to live. They treated her well and handled her nicely, despite the fact that they were all dirty and twice her age. Ilse tried not to think about it. Thinking only made things worse, she learned that a long time ago.
Ilse had been staying with her main lover, Heinrich, for quite a while now. Living with him had been luxurious, but far from comfortable. He treated her horribly. Ilse would wake up in the middle of the night, the cold barrel of a gun stuck to her chest, threatening to take her life. It was enough to scare her after a while; it was enough for her to leave Priapia and head back home in search for the comfort of her old friends; her old life. Ilse had to grow up too quickly. She wanted the days back where she could go out with her friends and play pirates in the meadow while the sun kissed their skin. Giggles erupted, smiles spread, screeches of excitement flowed from their mouth. Ilse wanted her innocence, but it was lost. But not all is ever lost, she thought. You just have to search for it.
Having run into Moritz that night by the river seemed like a Godsend. Ilse had always had a particular attachment to the messy haired boy. His uneven socks always made her giggle, and after some time she believed he left them that way just so that she would. Moritz would giggle along with her, tell her he could never get the one to stay up; swore up and down his one leg was thinner than the other, so he just didn't bother trying anymore. When they would play pirates, Ilse would be the one held captive, and Moritz would be her hero, saving her from walking the plank. When he would tackle her down to save her, they would fall into the tall grass and laugh until their stomachs were sore and tears pinched out of the corners of their eyes. Oh, how she missed those days. She wanted them back. She begged Moritz to come back to her house with her. She pleaded until she was near tears, but Moritz refused. Schoolwork, he blamed, he had a lot of it. Ilse knew something was wrong. Knew the way he was talking and standing was far from the boy she'd left behind.
So she ran. She told him she'd be lying on some trash heap. And she would be, because she didn't have her hero anymore. She heard him call her name, but she wouldn't return. Ilse was crying now, and she didn't want Moritz to see her so fragile. Before long she had to sit, her sobs preventing her from going any further without resting. That's when she heard it. The gunshot. "No," she whispered to herself, springing up without a moments notice and running back to the spot where she'd left her dear friend. Ilse collapsed on her knees as she found the scene. Moritz, laying by the bank of the river, his head blown off. Ilse couldn't manage to cry. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't scream, or move, or think. Ilse laid a hand on his chest. "My dear Moritz," she whispered, looking around, "I always loved you the most."
She reached down and took the gun from his hand, stashing it away to keep as a reminder of him. May not have been the happiest of reminders, but it was all she had. Ilse crossed his arms on his chest and stood up, looking back one last time. Her hero was gone. Ilse headed back to the town line, a single wall which separated her home town from Priapia and she crawled back over, the coldness of the metal gun pushing against her side, reminding her of Moritz. The gun could keep her protected from Heinrich. Maybe she did have her hero after all.