A/N: Okay, so my muse finally kicked into action and here is part one of my promised epic, Ways A Man Can Go. Updates will be every other week, hopefully, seeing as I am incredibly busy this summer. This fic spans a massive length of time and looks like it will go on for a while, but we'll certainly see. Read, review and enjoy!

Warning: Although Hanschen/Ernst is the main pairing of the story, there WILL be OCs and they both will have romantic relationships with OCs, although this won't happen for quite some time. If you've read my Goodbye Until Tomorrow, you have an idea of what one of these will entail. Both are entirely necessary to the plot, but keep in mind: this story IS Hanschen/Ernst.

Disclaimer: 'Spring Awakening' is not mine; various later OCs are belong to me! =D

i.

Sweat rolled down his face, rivers of salt racing on a clammy porcelain bed. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, but he stared resolutely at the picture clutched in his right hand. He imagined the softness of her lips against his, the full weight of her breasts in his hands, and still, Hanschen could find no relief. The speed of his strokes increased, a soft moan escaping. His eyes screwed up, the exertion beginning to take its toll on him.

The moment his eyes closed, however, the image of his lovely Desdemona melted into the recesses of his mind. Her breasts shrank and became a flat chest. The body he now held was lanky and downright scrawny. Her lovely lips became thinner, and her face more angular. This fantasy, whomever it was, was infinitely more alluring and pleasurable than the girl. He imagined their hands stroking down his flat chest, skimming the soft patch of hair past his pelvis and reaching down to massage the organ that stood proudly between Hanschen's legs. And then, colours danced on the back of his eyelids, a white noise roared in his ears. Hanschen opened his eyes after a moment and sighed, cleaning himself up. He was, most definitely, not as attracted to the fairer sex as he know he ought to be. Or rather, he was far more attracted to his own gender than was appropriate.

This was not the first time that Desdemona had turned into someone decidedly more masculine whilst Hanschen pleasured himself. He left the bathroom and headed directly to his bedroom, where he sat contemplatively at the head of his bed. He was not particularly troubled by his attraction to other boys; even if there was another boy who shared his... proclivities, so to speak, Hanschen could certainly not approach him about it. He was meant to get married, become a lawyer or a banker, produce several children who were meant to serve to better Germany. It was not altogether an unpleasant fate. His one experience, if you could even call it that, with another boy had produced undesirable results, and he had lost two friends because of it. He knew better now. He gazed at Desdemona in his hand, before sighing and crumpling it up.

The classroom was stiflingly hot. It was a hot and sticky day; school had only been in session for a few weeks, and the sunlight poured in through the windows. The windows had been opened, in a vain hope that a cool breeze would come in. The sun beat down mercilessly on the boys in their heavy wool uniforms. Herr Sonnenstitch had reluctantly given them permission to remove their jackets, and now the sweat began to soak through their white starched shirts to their vests. Hanschen had finished his Latin conjugations several minutes before and listlessly looked around the classroom. Melchior, to his immediate left, had apparently finished as well. He had pulled out Goethe's Faust and was deeply immersed. Hanschen's lip curled up ever so slightly in disdain. Melchior had been putting forth quite an effort recently to prove that he was more intelligent and mature than Hanschen, although they both secured top marks in their studies. Moritz, on the other side of Melchior, was trembling in his seat, eyes screwed shut and hunched over as he desperately tried to remember the proper conjugations. He then noticed Melchior tilt his chalkboard ever so slightly to his left, just enough that his perfect conjugations were in Moritz's eyeline. Hanschen scoffed and turned away. Melchior was really only enabling his friend; if Moritz saw fit to not study, he would certainly not receive passing marks. He did not deserve Melchior's help. He turned slightly in his chair to see the boys in the last row. Georg and Otto were still finishing up their conjugations, though both seemed to understand the material. Georg and Otto had become two of his closest friends recently; taking lunch break together and walking home from school together. He and Otto would sit in the woods as they waited for Georg to finish his piano lesson, discussing literature, hopes for the future, and the girls from the village. He made eye contact with Georg and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in a smile, which George returned fully before turning back to his work. Hanschen then turned his attention to the thin, mousy boy in the corner. Ernst was staring at him, his gaze soft and full of an emotion Hanschen couldn't quite identify. As soon as his eyes met Hanschen's, he turned back to his work so quickly that his chalkboard dropped to the floor.

CRACK.

Herr Sonnenstitch was over to Ernst in the blink of an eye, the switch resting just under his jaw. "Herr Robel," He spat, his eyes narrowed, "what exactly is the meaning of this?" He snatched the board off of the floor and quickly examined it. "Would you care to explain to me why there is absolutely nothing of sense written on your board?"

"I-I'm sorry, s-sir... I-" Ernst fumbled, his face flushing and his eyes quickly becoming watery. He stared resolutely at his feet.

"Speak up, boy!" Herr Sonnenstitch barked, spittle flying as he bore down on Ernst. "I asked you to explain yourself! Tell me why it is that Herr Gabor and Herr Rilow have already managed to complete their assignment correctly, I presume, while you have not managed to complete a single conjugation. LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!" He roared, snapping the switch across Ernst's chest, a resonant THWACK! echoing throughout the room.

Ernst raised his eyes to meet his instructor's. "I... I h-have no excuse, H-Herr Sonnenstitch." He softly said, his entire body trembling. His eyes were glassier than before, Hanschen noted. His face had lost all of its color as well. "I'm sorry." Ernst murmured.

"Herr Robel." Sonnenstitch began in little more than a whisper, but the entire room heard each and every word. "You do realise that one member of this class will not promoted with the rest, due to limited space. And you do realise that you are precariously close to that position, correct?" Herr Sonnenstitch's aspirations flew through the room, each word hitting its intended mark dripping with calculated cruelty. His beady eyes turned now to Moritz. "The only thing saving you from being an utter failure... is Herr Stiefel." He turned completely around; Moritz slunk down in his seat. "And Herr Stiefel's continued sleeping in my class is the only reason that he, himself, is failing. I would suggest," he snarled at Ernst, "that you learn your conjugations. I expect a complete list of the conjugations we have worked on thus far this year on my desk tomorrow, the moment that this class begins. If you have not completed it, I will fail you myself at that very moment. Do I make myself clear?"

Ernst nodded rather pathetically; it was now all too obvious that there were tears streaking down his face. Hanschen studied the boy: he was rather small, very pale, but with dark hair and even darker doe eyes. He had a delicate, almost girlish manner; indeed, it appeared that he would positively break in two if Sonnenstitch continued on for much longer. Hanschen pondered this. Indeed, Ernst spent more time playing with the girls than he did rough-housing with the other boys. However, the girls themselves had always treated him as one of them, refusing to relinquish Ernst when he, Hanschen, and the other boys came to play pirates. Ernst himself, however, would eventually slink away with the boys, once Melchior had commanded he join them. Ernst was nothing if not submissive. This intrigued Hanschen.

"Herr Rilow?"

Hanschen blinked. Sonnenstitch stood in front of him, eyeing him expectantly. "Your conjugations, please."

He wordlessly handed him his chalkboard, gathered his belongings and rushed to the door. Ernst was moving faster than usual today, and he did not have to wait long. "Ernst." He said, leaning against the doorframe. To his amusement, Ernst was so startled to be addressed that he tripped and dropped his bag, spilling its contents everywhere. He smirked and approached Ernst, kneeling next to him and helping him replace the items strewn about.

"Th-thank you." Ernst stammered in his soft, light voice. "I can be so clumsy..."

Hanschen disregarded this and stood, offering the other boy a hand up. "Come to lunch with me." He said, before turning and beginning to leave. He expected the other boy to follow, and was not disappointed. While he began to wonder what to do with him, his attention was diverted.

"Hansi! Hanschen, wait up!" Georg called, he and Otto running to catch up with them. Vaguely irritated, Hanschen slowed his gait and turned to the pair.

"Perhaps if you two had finished more quickly, you wouldn't have had to run." He simply said before approaching a nearby tree and sitting under it. "Ernst will be eating with us today." He gazed at the smaller boy, who was standing a short distance away, obviously uncomfortable. "Ernst, sit and eat." He commanded, nodding toward the area next to him. Ernst obeyed, head bowed, refusing to make eye contact with the other boys.

As Georg began to regale them with a tale of yesterday's piano lesson, Hanschen turned to look at Ernst again. "Tell me why you didn't do your Latin." He ordered, softly enough so that Ernst was the only one who would hear.

Ernst froze for a moment, before slowly chewing and swallowing the piece of bread in his mouth. "I... I have been feeling ill lately." He replied slowly. "It is rather difficult to focus on my studies." He made eye contact with Hanschen, and Hanschen found fear in his eyes. Hanschen knew he intimidated Ernst; Hanschen intimidated many people. But Ernst had no reason to fear him, for the moment.

"Ill, you say?" He murmured, taking the opportunity to lean in closer and stare intently at Ernst. "Shall I take you to the matron? We cannot have you falling ill and neglecting your studies." His gaze fixed on Ernst, he pulled an apple out of his bag and took a bite.

Ernst shook his head vehemently. "No, no! It... it's nothing! I'm fine!" He protested, eyes now refocusing on something behind Hanschen.

"Ernst, are you well?" Melchior and Moritz had walked over to join the boys for lunch. Melchior sat next to Ernst and grasped his shoulder in a brotherly embrace. Moritz sat next to Georg on Ernst's other side: he steadily avoided looking at Hanschen.

"I'm alright; I-I've just been feeling somewhat... ill recently." Ernst replied warmly, a smile spreading across his face. It was obvious that Ernst held Melchior in rather high regard. This was not acceptable, but Hanschen held his tongue. For the moment. "I was simply... enjoying the view outside. The vineyard is in full bloom, and the fruits are weighing heavily on the trees. It is quite an extraordinary sight, and I'm afraid I quite forgot myself." He blushed and ducked his head, as he finished his bread and cheese.

Melchior smiled at him. "I see. It is quite understandable that you would be distracted." He pulled out his own food, passing some to Moritz, who mumbled his thanks and began to eat. They fell into companionable silence, listening and laughing at Georg and Otto's banter. After several minutes of this, Melchior turned back to Ernst. "You know, if you ever need help in your schoolwork-"

"I have already offered to tutor Ernst, Herr Gabor." Hanschen interrupted, his eyes narrowing. Ernst turned to look at him, confused. Hanschen ignored this and continued speaking to Melchior. "How is it that you have enough time to help Moritz with his studies and still do your own? Where would you find time to help Ernst, or are you simplying offering because you're such a hero? You simply have to help everyone, even those who do not need your help. It has become rather obnoxious. Seeking to prove that you are better than others simply proves that you are inferior." He did not need to raise his voice or shout to deliever this blow: his scathing words inflicted more damage in Hanschen's natural cold and detached deadpan.

Melchior flushed scarlet, his fists clenched, while Moritz conversely lost all color. Georg and Otto had fallen silent, waiting for the inevitable confrontation betwen Hanschen and Melchior. "Melchi, can we...?" Moritz tugged on the other boy's sleeve, pleading with his eyes.

The other boy deflated slightly, looking over at Moritz. "Yes." He stood up, pulling Moritz to his feet as well. "Ernst, if you ever need anything, let me know." He said, smiling slightly. With a friendly nod to Georg and Otto, and one last angry glance at Hanschen, he spun on his heel and headed back towards the school, Moritz several steps behind him.

Ernst looked at Hanschen. "Um, y-you didn't have to d-do that." He stammered, confusion evident on his features.

"On the contrary. Melchior and I have... shall we say, an unpleasant past." George and Otto nodded at this, turning back to each other and resuming their conversation from earlier. "I am more than willing to tutor you in your subjects, if that's agreeable to you." He slid himself a little closer to Ernst.

Ernst flushed slightly in response to how close the other boy was. "If you don't mind- I mean, I could certainly use the help, but I wouldn't wish to be a burden to you."

Hanschen's eyes bored into his. "Ernst. We're friends, aren't we?" It was not a question. "It is never a problem to assist my friends." He smirked, maintaining his intense eye contact with the smaller boy, until Ernst, flushing an even deeper red, looked away. This amused Hanschen greatly. "We'll start in the vineyard, after classes are finished." He gazed at Ernst for several moments, before standing and offering him a hand up. "Come, we musn't be late."

ii.

As soon as Herr Sonnenstitch dismissed them, Ernst grabbed his bag and headed towards Hanschen. Or, he started to, before Melchior grabbed his arm. "Ernst, can we talk?" Concern was apparent on his face, and Ernst darted a glance at Hanschen. Hanschen had already left, though, prompting Ernst to nod. "Let's walk together, okay?" Melchior dropped his arm and together, the two left the schoolhouse. Once they were a short distance away, Melchior stopped walking and stared at the sky. Ernst simply stood, tensely watching him.

Several minutes of silence passed, Ernst becoming more and more uncomfortable. Melchior Gabor was a very nice boy, but he greatly intimidated Ernst. He was very intelligent, well-liked by the girls and boys, and very handsome. He was several inches taller than Ernst, who barely came up to Melchior's chin. Whenever Ernst spent time with Anna, Ilse and the other girls, they would, on occasion, sit around and giggle over Melchior. He had always listened to these conversations with some degree of interest: he too found Melchior admirable and felt a small degree of attraction to him. They were friends, but not on the same level that, say, Melchior and Moritz were. Ernst wished that he had the confidence to strengthen their friendship, but simply could not overcome his introverted nature.

"How are you, Ernst?" Melchior's voice drew Ernst out of his trance. "I mean, honestly. Are you alright?" He walked over to Ernst, placing his hands on his shoulders. "You seem... different lately. Distracted."

Ernst swallowed, his mouth suddenly rather dry. "I just h-haven't been feeling well." He replied thickly, steadily avoiding eye contact.

"You don't have to lie to me." Melchior frowned, turning to face Ernst completely. "You can talk to me. Maybe I can help with whatever is bothering you." Seeing the determination and complete sincerity on his face, Ernst crumpled.

"It is strange..." Ernst began, turning his gaze toward the ground, "but I have been having strange thoughts and dreams lately. Not like Moritz's!" He assured Melchior quickly, "I am not haunted by phantom women and their stockings! But these... ideas," he turned his eyes to Melchior, pleading with him to understand, "are not normal! I do not understand them, nor do I wish to!" He cried out. "I just want-" He burst into tears and sunk to the ground. Melchior was beside him in two large strides, on his knees and comforting the smaller boy while he wept.

"Ernst." Melchior spoke after the boy's cries had subsided for a bit. "I think you should stay away from Hanschen Rilow."

Sniffling, Ernst lifted his head and looked at Melchior strangely. "Hanschen? Why?"

Melchior's face clouded over and he did not speak for a minute. Finally, when he did speak, he stared into the woods. "There is something not right with him. Something strange and frightening. I simply don't want you to be hurt."

"Really, Gabor. I had thought better of you." The smooth, cold tones of Hanschen's voice drifted to the other two boys. Melchior quickly stood up, leaving Ernst on the ground confused. "Anyone would think you were trying to lure Ernst away from me. How very," Hanschen's eyes narrowed and his smirk grew crueler, "suspicious of you." He looked at Ernst and his expression softened slightly. "Ernst, come. I promised you assistance with your assignments." He did not miss the pleading look Melchior gave Ernst as the small boy got to his feet. "Go home, Herr Gabor. I'm sure there's a damsel in a tower somewhere who needs saving."

Melchior clenched his fists. "You really are an unmitigated ass, Herr Rilow." He replied in a frosty tone. He sadly smiled at Ernst, before turning on his heel and storming off.

"Now then." Hanschen genially said, the icy expression on his face melting into what could almost be considered a smile. "Shall we go?" He held his hand out to Ernst, who stared at it a moment, before flushing slightly and taking it. Hanschen laced their fingers together, smirking at the smaller boy. He scrutinized Ernst's face, not entirely surprised to see a touch of fear in his eyes. This pleased Hanschen. He stopped dead and pulled Ernst toward him. "Are you frightened, little Ernst?" He stroked the other boy's cheek, his cold touch causing Ernst to shiver.

"Frightened?" He squeaked, trying to pull away, but Hanschen's grip remained firm. "Why should I be," he swallowed forcefully, "frightened?"

Hanschen smirked at this. "You have no reason to be frightened with me, Ernst. Melchior Gabor seeks to rise above the rest, like oil floats on water." His eyes narrowed and his smile slid into something more sinister. "Oil, however, is a pollutant. It sullies the pure and untainted water, destroying the resplendant life beneath its deep waters. I simply want to help you better yourself." He ran a long, thin finger down Ernst's tearstained cheek. "Ernst, I'm on your side."

He felt Ernst searching his face for something, but for what, Hanschen was not entirely sure. Not that it really mattered, Hanschen reasoned, he simply wanted the boy for himself. He wanted a pet of his very own: something none of the other boys could have or taint with their idiocies.

Especially Melchior Gabor.

"I trust you, Hanschen." Ernst shyly confided, not entirely making eye contact with the blonde.

Hanschen's smile returned, and Ernst was not entirely sure if he liked the glint in the other boy's eyes.

Moritz Stiefel had always been a nervous, twitchy little boy. His Mama had encouraged him to go play pirates with Melchior Gabor and the other boys near the stream, but Moritz had preferred to cling to his Mama's apron strings. Finally, his Papa had pulled him off of his Mama, telling him it was "high time he started acting like a young man" and deposited him outside with his neighbor and playmate Melchior. Melchior had simply smiled at him, grabbed his hand and pulled him to their own little corner of the world.

He had initially been taken aback at the sight of all of the other children playing in the grass and stream, but Melchior was already dragging him to meet his friends. "This is my best friend in the whole wide world, Moritz Stiefel." Melchior declared, wrapping an arm around Moritz's shoulders.

Moritz lit up like the sun at that. He was somebody's best friend? He had a best friend! Somebody to share his secrets and stories with, and he would hold his in turn. A best friend!

As the years went on, the group of friends grew even closer. At age ten, however, the schools split for the different sexes. Ernst and the girls shed many tears over the distance that would soon overwhelm their bond; Melchior, Moritz, Ilse and Wendla mourned the splitting of their pirate band. Melchior was upset at the loss of the fiery Ilse and gentle Wendla and began immersing himself in literature of progressive philosophists and theorists.

Moritz deeply felt the loss of his best friend. Granted, Melchior was still there, and they still played everyday, but Melchior seemed less interested in finding the buried treasure of the Great Pirate King and more interested in the flaws and intricacies of the church. Moritz just wanted his best friend back.

Until, one day, Moritz Stiefel made a new best friend.

iii.

Hanschen laid back on his bed, arms folded under his head. "Do you remember," He softly asked, relishing the warm breeze from the open window mussing his hair, "the story we're supposed to read for Ancient Greek?"

Ernst sat at Hanschen's desk, his gaze fixed out the window somewhere in the clouds. "Hmmm?"

"Ernst." Hanschen said as he sat up, "Come sit over here. The sky may be simply fascinating, but Ancient Greek mythology is the order of the moment."

The other boy flushed embarrassedly, tearing his gaze away from the window and looking at Hanschen. "I'm sorry. It's just so lovely outside, it seems a shame to spend the day studying in here." He stood and walked over to the bed, staring at it somewhat nervously. "Are you sure you d-don't mind me sitting here?"

"If I minded, I would not have told you to sit here." Hanschen replied, tersely smiling at Ernst. "Now then. Do you know the story we are supposed to read?"

"A little." Ernst admitted, sinking slowly onto the bed next to Hanschen. At the other boy's raised eyebrow, he elaborated, "My grandfather was a professor of Greek, and when I was very small, he would sit me on his lap by the fire and tell me stories about the gods and goddesses as he puffed away on his pipe. I don't quite remember this story, though." He gazed at his feet, somewhat abashed.

Hanschen gazed at Ernst for a moment. "I myself have read it through several times, but I find it tedious and overlong. Perhaps if I retell it, it would be easier for you to understand and, no doubt, more pleasant to listen to." He offered, leaning back on his elbows. At Ernst's nod of assent, he began to speak, his voice a pleasant rumble that caused warmth to blossom in Ernst's chest.

Ernst made every effort to listen to the taller boy, but Hanschen's words faded into a sort of white noise. Ernst instead found himself focusing on the blonde boy's features: eyes that were normally a steely gray were presently lit, as if by some unseen ember, with what might have been passion. As he spoke, his lips caressed each word as they left his mouth. This was an entirely different Hanschen than he had ever seen; this Hanschen was warm and radiated an intense sort of energy that Ernst felt drawing him in. He shook his head slightly and tried to refocus on Hanschen's words. Only now, too late, Ernst realized that Hanschen was silent.

"Might I inquire", Hanschen drolly asked, "as to what is so interesting now? Surely my storytelling isn't that abysmal." His lips, the lips that just moments before had been moving so beautifully, now curled into a smirk. The light in his eyes dimmed to a colder, harsher glow. Ernst shivered slightly.

"Not at all," Ernst protested, wringing his hands. "I... I have a stomachache." He finished lamely. Hanschen raised an eyebrow.

"I can have my mama make us some tea." He replied, eyeing the other boy. He knew Ernst's stomach was fine, he simply wasn't sure of why he was so distracted. The idea of Ernst's attention being elsewhere irritated him. Ernst was his number one priority, at least for the moment, the brunette could at least do him the courtesy of returning the favor. "Is something troubling you, Ernst?"

Ernst bit his lip; Hanschen bit back a smile. Ernst was silent for a moment, before, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

This was not what Hanschen was expecting, but he was pleased nonetheless. He schooled his face into a mask of innocence. "Have I not been nice to you before?" Ernst stammered for a moment, and Hanschen continued with a light laugh. "I like you, Ernst. You're a good Christian boy who doesn't need to be led down the wrong path by the wrong sorts of people." The irony of this statement was certainly not lost on him, and he let a sliver of a smirk blossom on his face. "I want to keep you on the right path. Don't you want to be my friend, Ernst?" His smirk could almost have passed for a smile, and for Ernst, it passed.

"Well, yes of course, but... I'm sorry." Ernst mumbled, looking at his hands abashedly. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"Of course not." Hanschen interrupted. "We are friends now, are we not?" The other boy nodded. "Then it doesn't matter." Hanschen finished, fixing his gaze out the window.

"Friends..." Ernst softly echoed as he looked at Hanschen, a small smile on his delicate face.

And there's the end of part one! Please review; it inspires me to keep going!