A/N: Mortiz is my absolute favorite character from Spring Awakening. I hope I do the sleepy head justice.
Moritz lay awake in his bed. It seemed as if he was neither awake, nor asleep. His eyes were almost frozen open. The ceiling above him seemed to stretch out in front of him, getting higher and higher and higher.
He violently sat straight up in his bed, breathing heavily. Sky blue stockings. Before him. Even now the dreams still plagued him, even though he had not drifted off into sub consciousness. And even though his mind was completely empty, despite the dark thoughts that stalked every once and awhile as he lay.
His hands, balled into fists, reached up to the sides of his face. He knelt his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears sat dormant in his eyes, burning them. He threw the light sheet that was half covering his body down to the floor and got out of bed.
He quietly and quickly dressed in the clothes that he had carelessly tossed to the floor in his haste.
He sank to the floor and sat, still as a statue. The dark seemed daunting, yet it was mocking, tormenting him.
Tears escaped him, mutely falling down his cheeks to the floor.
The dark called out to him, 'Herr Stiefel. Herr Stiefel. Herr Stiefel. Mortiz.'
"Leave me be," he whispered.
"Leave me be," he repeated, barely audible.
His hands moved up and down his face, smearing the tears, making his whole face damp. He whined and winced.
"Fuck!" He whispered. He hardly comprehended what the word meant, but it escaped his lips without him knowing. He cursed his naivety.
His arms fell limp to the floor. He crouched down on all fours. He quietly made his way out of his room and through the house, in search of his father's study. He was careful not to make a sound, although he knew he wouldn't wake his sleeping parents even if he did.
He lifted himself onto his knees and opened the door. He continued to crawl his way in. As he reached the maple wood cabinet in the corner, he stood up.
His hand, shaking, slowly opened the right door, then the other. He squinted his eyes as he searched for the small oak box that he knew carried what he was wanted. Right. There it was. Right in front of him.
He gently picked the box up and placed it on the small, elegant desk on the opposite side. He smiled as he opened the box. The silver object shined in what little moonlight entered the room. It was as if the angel's were calling to him. The angel's of the dark.
He lifted the small pistol out of the case, smiling contently with himself. 'He will be sorry,' he thought. 'They shall all be sorry.'
He wrapped his hand around the cool metal. His raised his hand and pointed it at the wall. He pretended to pull the trigger. "BANG!"