I don't own Spring Awakening or any of the characters. Hanschen VOLUNTEERED to stay in my closet for the last six weeks! *shuts door discreetly* ENJOY!

Hanschen paced his room in a maddening loop. Ernst should've been with him fifteen minutes ago, and Ernst wasn't one to be late. Something had to be wrong, and he hated how much he cared. He told himself he was merely annoyed at having to wait for the admiration in that thin, doe-eyed face. Such a pitiful lie though, really.

Five minutes passed, then ten, than another fifteen, and still no sign of Herr Robel. Damn it, what was he playing at?

Then a knock came at the door, rapid and uneven, one could almost call it flustered. Hanschen leapt out of his room, much too quickly, told himself to slow down, and turned the handle. The sight that met his eyes very nearly dissolved the mask of arrogance and nonchalance he wore so well.

Ilse stood on the doorstep, cheeks stained with tears and struggling with the weight of the barely conscious boy slung over her shoulders. "Hansi…" her voice shook, "I found him in the woods, I-I didn't know where else to go, I knew you'd take him."

Hanschen gasped as he recognized Ernst's face and quickly helped Ilse inside. There was definite concern etched into his expression now as he noticed the criss-crossing lines of red that decorated Ernst's back and shoulders. "What happened to him?" he asked quietly, preparing water to sterilize bandages.

Ilse took a deep, shuddering breath. "I patched him up as best I could, but I didn't have much material to work wi-"

"I asked you what happened to him, now answer me!"

"I don't know Hanschen! How would I know why he was in the middle of the woods bleeding out?"

"You must have some idea, he must have said something!"

She shook her head slowly. "All he told me was that he needed to see you before he left."

"Before he left where?"

She fixed a heated glare on Hanschen. "I. Don't. Know. I was hoping you would."

They didn't speak after that, just set to work patching up Ernst. He was worse, far worse, than Hanschen could've guessed. The wounds on his shoulders were deep, his skin pale and eyes sunken with exhaustion, raven hair matted terribly with dirt and blood. Ilse had managed to stop a good portion of the blood loss, but as soon as they had been cleaned and freed of bandages, they bled again until the new ones were tied on. Once, while Hanschen was meticulously combing the dirt from his hair, Ernst stirred and reached a bony hand to Hanschen's face. Hanschen simply caught it, kissed it, and set it back on the mattress, glancing at Ilse. Her mouth twitched in what looked suspiciously like a smirk, but she said nothing.

"I think that's all there is to be done." Hanschen broke the silence tentatively, not trusting his own voice.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I can handle him." he muttered, some of the drawling quality returned to his countenance. "You should get back to…well, where do you live these days?"

"The artist's colony on the edge of nowhere." she said simply, whirling to the door, "I'll be back before long to see him Hansi, take good care of him, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Promise me." he had never heard her voice so commanding.

"Yes, I promise. He'll be back on his feet in no time."

"And what'll you tell your parents?"

"They're in Berlin for the time being, and if he's not better before they get back I'm sure I can think of something."

She gave him a funny tilt of her head, then vanished onto the street.

So WHAT happened to Ernst? WHAT trials lie ahead? And WHY is my characterization of Hanschen so terrible? REVIEW AND ALL SHALL BE REVEALED!