Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening. The play was written by Frank Wedekind and the musical is property of Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik.

I haven't seen very much fanfiction for Spring Awakening. So here's my attempt to add to the small pile of fanfiction here. This one focuses on Melchior and Wendla's romance. Thank you for reading!

Punishment

For what seemed to be the millionth time, Wendla peered out of the kitchen window longingly. The soapy rag in her hand slopped across a filthy plate madly. Nervously, anxiously even, Wendla pursed her lips together into a scowl. Right about now, Melchior was waiting for her arrival. No thanks to her mother, however, she was forced to wash dishes until each and every one of them were spotless.

"Mama!" Wendla called impatiently.

"Yes, dear," her mother replied.

"Are these good enough?" Wendla asked.

As her mother inspected the dishes, Wendla's fingers twisted and fumbled with her dress. Watching her mother's eyes pick and prod at each dish was like torture to her. If she made a careless mistake on a single dish, her mother would surely assume she made the same mistake on the others. A single shiver slid down her spine as her mind drew terrible conclusions.

"They aren't spotless," her mother announced in a severe tone. "However, I'll let it slide this one time."

"Oh, thank you mother!" Wendla exclaimed.

With renewed happiness, Wendla leaped into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly. Instantly, Wendla raced into her room and snatched her lavender baby doll dress from her closet. Without a thought, she tossed her chore clothes aside lazily and fought her way into the dress. Quickly, Wendla slipped on a pair of black stockings and matching black shoes. Then after saying a short goodbye to her mother, she was finally out the door.

Wendla darted down the streets as fast as her little feet would allow her. Ever since their first encounter, Wendla and Melchior frequently met in the hayloft to experiment with each other. Of course, Wendla hadn't the slightest idea what she was doing, but something told her it had to be kept secret. Besides that, she had an odd feeling that her mother would not approve of her actions.

Finally, she reached the hayloft. Wendla stopped briefly to catch her breath. She then entered, hoping to god that Melchior was still waiting patiently for her to arrive. She pushed the door open thoughtlessly, and instantly her eyes searched for Melchior. A small smile formed upon her lips when her eyes caught sight of him. There, on top of the highest platform, sat Melchior reading another one of those confusing books of his.

"Melchior," Wendla called, but only received a chorus of echoes in response.

There was a slight tinge of worry, but Wendla tried her best to squash that negative emotion immediately. Quietly, Wendla climbed the latter which led to the highest platform. An odd feeling of warmth swallowed her. This platform was the very place she first shared her love with Melchior. The memory sent a tingly feeling through her insides, and Wendla tried her very hardest to suppress the girlish giggle that threatened to escape her lips.

Once she climbed on top of the platform, Wendla crawled next to Melchior. She softly snuggled up next to his shoulder, hoping to get a reaction from him. Still, Melchior refused to acknowledge her presence. It was as if his eyes were practically glued to his book. A defeated sigh escaped her lips as she was overcome with worry.

"I'm terribly sorry, Melchior," Wendla whispered, "I didn't intend to be late. Can you believe it? I thought of you all last night, so much that I'm amazed I got any sleep at all."

"Why then did you arrive so late?" Melchior asked.

"I didn't intend to be late," she pressed herself against his shoulder, "Oh Melchior, I know I've kept you waiting so long, but mama, she wouldn't let me leave until I finished my chores. You probably don't believe me, I'm sure, but please at least forgive me."

"You're so silly, Wendla," Melchior replied, "Of course, I'll forgive you."

With a tight hug, Wendla whispered, "Thank you."

"But," he paused, "I must punish you for your tardiness."

"You're going to," her eyes widened, "punish me?"

Wendla trembled slightly, pondering how he might punish her. Her brown eyes watched Melchior carefully while he set his book off to the side. There was a dangerous look in his eyes, and instinctively, Wendla lowered her gaze. Melchior cupped his hand under her chin, and with little effort, forced Wendla to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Wendla repeated, "I'm sorry."

"You best be sorry," he replied.

Without a moment's notice, Melchior slid Wendla underneath him. His finger's tickled her stomach causing her to burst out with laughter. She struggled to break free and even attempted to crawl out from underneath him. Much to her dismay, however, Melchior simply pounced on her before she could escape. Wendla was now completely at Melchior's mercy.

"Alright, I surrender!" Wendla cried out while giggling.

Melchior smiled down at her. "Promise me that you won't be late next time."

"Alright, alright, I promise I won't!" Wendla replied and Melchior ceased his assault.

Both fell silent. The only sound that could be heard was the song of a chirping bird. Wendla gazed up into Melchior's warm eyes. His warm fingers brushed her cheek gently, and he whispered, "I was worried you'd never come."

Fin