A/N: wow, so, um... it's been a while. I just had this inspiration from a song to write a short songfic/drabble/whatever thing about spring awakening. I saw it last sunday and it was amazing. enjoy.
disclaimer: i do not own spring awakening. I wish I did. I also do not own 10th Avenue North. ditto.
This is based on the song "By Your Side," by 10th Avenue North. I'll give you a cue to start listening to it in the story.
ALSO BEFORE YOU READ: let's pretend that Wendla didn't die during the operation. Also, let's pretend that Melchior is 16 and Wendla is 15, because for some reason, in the show that I saw, those were the ages they used and now it's impossible for me to get out of that mindset.
ok. story time.
"Mama?" Wendla called into the hallway. The short, stiff steps of Frau Bergmann became near.
"Yes, Wendla?"
"It hurts." She wrapped her arms around her stomach and rolled onto her side. "Mama, why?"
"Because you had an operation." She answered simply.
"Is the baby okay?"
"Wendla, come, stop asking questions. You need-"
"Is. The baby. Okay?"
"You need your rest."
"Just answer me, Mama!"
Frau Bergmann sighed. "No. The baby is not okay." She stared at the wall.
"Mama?"
No response.
"Mama? ... What do you mean, the baby is not okay?" Silence. "Mama, tell me the truth!" More silence. "Answer me!" She stood up.
"Wendla, the baby is gone!" She blurted.
"Gone? Where? What do you mean, gone?"
Silence.
"Mama, tell me!" She was yelling now.
"The baby is dead."
"Why?"
"For God's sake, Wendla! Stop asking questions!" She stood up.
"It was the doctor, wasn't it?"
Silence.
"Wasn't it?" Silence. "Mama, you took me to a doctor who killed my baby?"
"You're just a child, Wendla, you don't need to have a baby!"
"It was mine. It was my baby. It was this happiness that I could hold onto, instead of being numb. And empty. Just like you! You killed it! You ruined everything!" She screamed.
"Wendla, really! I did it for-"
"I really think that you should leave now." She said, stoic.
"Wendla, I will not be-"
"Leave."
And so she left. And for three months after, Wendla barely did. She left her room only to eat and use the bathroom. She did not speak. Her time in her room was spent staring at the wall and sleeping.
She silently refused to go to school, and no one tried to make her.
She was still nauseous. She still threw up nearly every morning. Her periods never came, she assumed as a side effect of the operation. But she made none of it known to her mother.
She ignored Melchior's letters, for the most part, stopping once to write back that the baby was gone, and taking in the news that he would be home in the morning on April 17th.
Then, she saw it.
When she woke up at 12:00 pm, April 17th, three months to the day after she was with Melchior, Wendla Bergmann saw a small, but very distinct bump between her hips.
She didn't know what to make of it. On one hand, she was excited. She felt it, the pregnancy, like she hadn't felt anything in a long time. It was this light, in the pit of her stomach, that tightened and never let go. On the other hand, she was terrified. She hardly knew what sex was, let alone how to bear and raise a child... and what would Melchior think? He was probably relieved that he didn't have the responsibility anymore when she wrote that the baby was gone... she didn't actually know, she was too scared to open the letter he wrote back to her.
She started to cry, she didn't know why. Angry, hot tears rolled down her face. Sobs, louder than ever, escaped her throat. She heard her mother stir in the next room. I can't do anything right. I can't even cry without bothering my mother.
She needed to leave. Go somewhere. Somewhere she could cry and scream at the situation alone. She drew up the curtains for the first time in months, letting the light blind her and leave bright green blotches inside her eyelids. Carefully climbing out onto the trellis of vines, she wished she had the nerve to just let go and let herself fall and die. She was too conscious, though. She wished to just off herself, like Moritz but he had been asleep, in life, for a while before. She was too awake. Moritz hadn't anyone growing inside of him, but she had, and was acutely aware of, because climbing down the trellis was a lot harder than it had been before.
When she reached the ground, she just started walking, with angry steps, toward the bridge. She didn't know where she was going. It was around noon, and the sun burned her.
Wendla found herself in Melchior's hayloft. She didn't want to see him, but it was private, and she could cry here. Climbing the ladder to the highest part of the loft, the tears came back. Harder. Hiccuping. She pushed herself into the farthest corner, hugged her knees to her chest, and cried.
Hours passed. The sun left. Night brought an array of clouds, all dark, all angry. It began to rain. April showers... Wendla thought dryly. Wait... what day is it? The 17th? Melchior was supposed to be home today. He'd come to see me if he cared.
You don't know he didn't... A voice inside her started. You've been here all day. He could very well have come to see you, just to find you gone.
But even then, if he were home at all, he would come here. To his hayloft. For a while. He's probably not even back. He probably stopped caring once he read that the baby was gone, and ran off with some tramp at the train station. He doesn't care about you. Nobody does.
"Nobody does." Wendla whimpered, and the tears started again.
Silence.
For a long time, silence.
Then, "Wendla?" A boy's voice. His voice.
Wendla held her breath. She didn't want him to see her, not like this.
Slow footsteps, coming toward the ladder. "Wendla?" Again. "Are you in here?" He reached the top of the ladder and started walking, with slow, careful steps, around the loft.
Wendla curled up into a ball, attempting to hide, but agitating the creaky floorboard underneath her in the process.
Melchior smirked. "I can hear you." She hiccuped. He looked around, trying to find the source. "Why are you hiding from me?" She hiccuped again. He found her. "There you are. I've been looking for you all day. I went to your house, but your mother wouldn't let me in. I was about to climb up that thing, by your window, but then it started raining and I had to... What are you doing here?" He slowly walked up to the corner she was sitting in and sat next to her. Something about the situation told him to be very gentle.
She gave him no response.
"What's wrong?" She was still curled up in a ball, so he nudged her shoulder to try to make her look up. She didn't. (A/N: start listening to "By Your Side" now. Pause after "to where will you run?")
"Everything." She whimpered.
Thinking it had something to do with her mother, Melchior said, "Wendla... why are you striving, these days?"
"I can't do anything right."
"Why are you trying to earn grace?" No answer. Instead, Wendla took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. "Why are you crying? Let me lift up your face..." She shook her head and turned her back to him. "Just don't turn away."
Silence.
It hit him. "Is this about the baby? Wendla... why are you looking for love?" She started crying again, curled up in a ball, facing away from him. He put a hand on her back. "Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?"
Wendla couldn't take it. She had to leave. She quickly stood up and headed for the ladder.
Melchior was faster. He stood and rushed ahead of her, blocking her way. "To where will you go, child? Tell me, where will you run?" She crumpled, but he caught her by the shoulders and guided her down so they were sitting. "To where will you run?" Silence. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Silence. "Why won't you just talk to me? What's this about? Me? Your mother? The baby?" She started crying again, nodding. "Oh, Wendla..." he looked down. "Just because the baby is gone doesn't mean-"
"It's not." Wendla said, in a very small voice.
"...What?"
"It's not gone."
"What do you mean?"
"The operation didn't work. I'm pregnant."
"Does this mean...?"
She nodded.
"Wendla! That's-" He saw her start to cry again. "Oh." He took her by the shoulders. "Don't be scared. (unpause here.) I'll be by your side, wherever you've fallen." She shook her head and turned away. "In the dead of night, whenever you call." He put his hand on her back, and she wrenched away. "Just please don't fight these hands that are holding you." He wrapped his arms around her. "My hands are holding you." She collapsed. He put a hand on her face. "Look at these hands, and my side. They swallowed the grave on that night, when I drank the world's sin," He smiled and shook his head, remembering the night they spent together, "so I could carry you in and give you life... I want to give you life..." She shook her head. He felt the need to reassure her. "And I'll be by your side, wherever you've fallen, in the dead of night, whenever you call..." She started moving away, and he scooped her up and sat down with her, against the wall, "please don't fight these hands that are holding you. My hands are holding you..."
She sat up. "Why?"
He was taken by surprise. "Because I love you. I want you to know that I love you. I'll never let you go. And I'll be by your side, wherever you've fallen, in the dead of night, whenever you call, and please don't fight," He said, gently pushing her back down to him, "these hands that are holding you. My hands are holding you."
(a/n: i hope that worked.)
The rain outside continued. It was cold inside.
"What are we going to do?" Wendla asked.
"Wendla, we can't stay here. We'll leave tomorrow, before first light."
"To where?"
"I have no fucking clue."
Silence.
"We'll have to marry." Wendla said, again in a very small voice.
"Yes," Melchior said, amused, "we will."
And so they slept, against the hayloft wall, Wendla draped on top of Melchior.
The next day, they snuck into Wendla's room and took what they needed, and the same for Melchior. They walked 13 miles to a train station, where a small amount of money got them to Berlin.
And they did marry.
At a courthouse. Melchior wrought Wendla a veil out of flowers and tissue paper. Wendla wore an old church dress.
And so they were married. They immigrated to America as soon as they could, and found work, and a home at a boarding house in New York, where Wendla worked as a seamstress and Melchior was an usher in the theater district.
On October 1st, two weeks early, they had a perfect baby girl, who they named Hanna. They made friends and learned enough english to get by. They hadn't heard from anyone at home, which they wouldn't have changed, because they desperately did not want to be found.
Wendla's mother told the town that she had died from anemia. They had a funeral and the body was declared missing.
Melchior's parents chose to tell everyone that he was at the reformatory and would still be there for a while.
All was well.
SO. i spent all morning writing that. I hope you enjoyed it. please review, it's been a few years since I've written and i hope that was decent. sorry if the song thing was weird:/ BUT REVIEW. PLEASE.