Where the Sins Cry

by fingertips

SPRING AWAKENING: MortizIlse They come across one another in the woods late one night and help each other understand the world around them. Melchior has a minor role. Stays in character. Mature Themes. Oneshot.

Where the Sins Cry

Spring Awakening: Moritz/Ilse

Rating: R

Authors Note: These characters are not mine and therefore I can only hope that I have sufficiently recreated them in this new light. Anything in italics are actual lines from the show. In addition, due to the course of the main events in this plot the dialogue during "Don't Do Sadness/Blue Wind" would be significantly different, so I decided to take the liberty to alter them here, but I left out all the stuff in between those scenes, because I'm sure you all know how it goes perfectly well. If you care to read a much shorter story you could just stop after the "Touch Me" scene and then just imagine for yourself how "Don't Do Sadness/Blue Wind" would be changed. Also, I tried my best with the timing of events. From the show it's sometimes hard to know how much time passes between each scene so, be lenient, but otherwise I can't wait to hear what you guys think.

Warning: Pages 5 through 7 contain graphic content. (3 PAGES OF SEX, I KNOW, CRAZY!)

Scene: "Touch me"

"Moritz! Moritz wait!" The boy hailed after his friend but this was futile; Moritz had already left.

"Melchior, what is it?" His mother asked as she entered the room looking concerned.

"Nothing Mama."

"Has Moritz gone?"

"Yes"

"Well, he does look awfully pale, don't you think? I wonder, is that Faust really the best thing for him?"

Frau Gabor left the room leaving her son alone by himself to think.

Where I go, when I go there,

No more shadows anymore –

Only you there in the kiss;

And nothing missing as you're drifting,

To shore…

That night Moritz didn't even attempt to sleep until midnight when he had finally completed all the work he had been assigned. He knew that if he hadn't been so distracted he would have been able to do a better job, but at the moment he could no longer focus on anything except the essay Melchior had written for him. He had hoped Melchior's explanation would help clear up some things – help him make sense of the troubling nightmares he was having. But instead, the essay only made things worse, offering new questions and yet still, no answers. Moritz didn't even bother trying to understand how Melchior knew all this stuff about the human body. True, Melchior's parents were remarkable people, but surely they hadn't taught him that!

Finally surrendering to thoughts of the essay, which were quickly forcing their way to the front of his mind, Moritz packed up his school work. While changing into his night clothes he caught his reflection in the mirror and paused. I just put myself in her place and imagine…Melchior's words from earlier that day raced through Moritz's head as he stood staring at his own half-naked body.

"Put myself in her place, put myself in her place," he recited over and over again, while his face contorted with concentration. Slowly he brought his hand to his cheek where he felt the roughness of short, unshaved hairs. Then with both hands he softly caressed his neck and the top of his bare chest. As he moved lower down towards his stomach, he struggled to control his accelerated breathing. Then, suddenly, with a look of disgust and tears in his eyes, he turned away and finished dressing.

Once in bed he tossed and turned for several minutes trying to find a comfortable position. Finally realizing that this was going to be another sleepless night, yet again, he pulled Melchior's essay from under the corner of his mattress and opened the curtains on the window so that the light from the moon illuminated the room just enough to make out the small words and sketches on the faded parchment. His eyes scanned back and forth, left to right, but he wasn't actually reading or processing any of the words. Frustrated with himself and his total lack of understanding, Moritz forcefully folded the essay back up and stored it in the pocket of his night shirt. Not really pausing to think, he climbed out of bed and slipped on the first pair of shoes he could find. Thanking god that his parent's room was on the opposite side of the house and praying that they would not hear him leaving, he opened the window and quietly climbed out into the cool night air. Cursing the full moon, he ran, head ducked and body crunched down until he was in the woods and safely out of sight of the neighboring houses.

He knew these woods well from his childhood years when he, Melchior, Ilse, and Wendla would make up games to play all day long until their mother's called them in for dinner. Even in the dwindling light he knew exactly where he was, yet he walked without a destination. He had no purpose other than he was convinced he would not waste another night lying in bed traumatized by merciless nightmares. Maybe being out in the woods with the trees, and the animals, and the cool breeze would help him think. 'Melchior always comes to the woods to think,' he thought to himself. As he moved along he kept having visions of himself as a child, running carelessly through the woods before him almost as if his younger self was rubbing in the fact that there used to be a time when nothing troubled or worried him. There was no doubt that he envied this vision and longed to be that carefree child again.

"Moritz Stiefel?" He froze where he was, abruptly awoken from his thought process by the startling sound of someone calling his name.

"God?" He asked quietly, confused beyond belief, reasoning that there couldn't possibly be anyone else in the woods at this hour.

"No, silly, it's me, Ilse." Said a voice from somewhere behind him, but he didn't dare move.

"Ilse? No, that's not right," he said, trying to reassure himself. "WHAT KIND OF CRUEL GAME IS THIS?!" He shouted as loud as he could; now trembling.

"No, really, I'm right here, turn around." Still shaking, he turned around slowly, preparing to run if there was no body to match the voice. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when he turned to see the figure of a beautiful young woman, about his age, dressed in nothing but a long white shirt very similar to the one he was wearing. He jumped back, startled.

"Ilse, it really is you," he said softly while quickly trying to erase the look of horror from his face.

"Of course it is, you didn't honestly think God was talking to you in the woods," she giggled a little.

"No, not really," he said, laughing a little in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. By taking several deep breaths he was finally able to relax from the shock. "I didn't think I'd find anyone out here. What hour do you think it is?"

"Oh, I don't know, not too long after midnight, though."

"Really? That's all?"

"Uh huh! What are you doing out here Moritz?"

"Oh. Nothing," but she didn't seem convinced so he added, "I couldn't sleep so I thought I would get some fresh air, and you know… think… a little. What are you doing out here?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, I was watching the stars. I do it every time there is a full moon. You'd think you wouldn't be able to see them because the sky is so bright already but if you look hard enough you'll see them appear very faintly almost as if creeping out behind a shadow. Come here, I'll show you." She grabbed his hand and led him into a clearing near the center of the woods. As he followed behind her he noticed her long, auburn hair waving behind her as she moved. When she stopped the waves came to a rest just above her hips, but then every so often a few strands would be given life by a soft breeze only to quickly fall against her back again.

She laid down on the soft grass in the middle of the clearing and tugged on his hand until he laid down next to her. He looked over at her, they were awfully close together. Her face was beautiful with the look of concentration as she stared up at the sky. Almost unwillingly his eyes recognized her womanly figure that surely was not present the last time he had seen her. He couldn't help but to notice that her small round breasts rose and fell with each soft breath that she took. In the back of his mind he was comparing her figure to that of the picture in Melchior's essay and he wondered whose figure it was that Melchior had sketched.

"Look, there, I found one!" She said, pointing into the sky with her arm closest to Moritz. He jumped again, startled, and looked away praying that she hadn't noticed him staring. He tried to follow her finger towards the sky but could see nothing but the bright moon and a blank canvas of midnight blue.

"I, I, don't see anything," he said squinting his eyes while his right hand subconsciously fiddled with the folded up parchment in his shirt pocket.

She glanced over at him to check to make sure that he was indeed looking and noticed that there was something in his pocket, but ignored it. "Don't squint, that will only make it harder. Here." She took his hand in hers and raised it so that they were both pointing at the same spot. She shifted her body so that she was right up against him, their sides touching, and when they both tilted their heads to get a better look, their temples rested up against each other. Just above where their joint hands pointed, Moritz was able to make out the faint outline of a small glowing orb that was a star millions of miles away.

His heart was beating more and more rapidly, his hand still fumbled with the concealed essay, but he smiled and said, "Now I see it." She looked over at him and smiled but then her look turned to curiosity when she saw that he was still fumbling with something in his pocket.

"What's that you have there in your pocket?"

"Oh, it's, it's nothing." His face contorted as he started and shifted away from her before standing up.

"I'm not blind, Moritz." She followed him up so that they were standing face to face. "I've been watching you fiddle with it for the past few minutes." She reached for his pocket but he clasped his hand over it and spun away."

"No! Ilse, it's nothing!" He was now panicking. What would she do if she knew what it was? Why did she care so much anyway? What he kept in his pockets were none of her business.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be hiding it from me. Come on Moritz, show it to me!" She was now playing with him. She reached for it again, but when he turned away she grabbed his wrist. She was able to pry his hand away but knowing he was taller than her he grabbed the essay and held it high above her head. She jumped but couldn't reach. "That's not fair," she cried. "When did you become so tall anyway?"

"I don't know. When did you become so strong?"

"Gosh," she said, now pretending to ignore the essay which he still guarded from her. "It's been ages since we've played together like this." He looked at her inquisitively. "This very clearing! This is where we set up our pirate ship! Do you remember?"

"Yes…I remember."

"And even when we got older! You and Melchior didn't want to play pirates anymore. You wanted to do something different. But Wendla and I would tickle you until you agreed."

"Yes… you would," he laughed, "We hated that so much…You both had a extraordinary way of getting us to do what you wanted. But now I wish we were young again… I would play pirates all day long if it just meant we could be… young again."

"Let's play pirates now!"

"Oh no…I couldn't…we don't have the others…it's too dark…"

"Oh really?" she said with the sound of mischief in her voice.

"What?" He asked, alarmed. Without warning she sprung towards him and started tickling his sides. His knees buckled and they both fell to the ground. He struggled against her while she reached for the essay but she was able to grab it an escape to the other side of the clearing. "Ilse, no!" He just lay there defeated. She had already started to read it. "You can have it. I'm going home." He was utterly embarrassed and confused but also disappointed. He had actually been enjoying the time he was spending with Ilse, especially that strange feeling he felt while they were laying next to each other watching the stars. He started to leave –

"Moritz! Wait. Don't go yet!" He turned around to see her looking up at him but then she quickly turned her eyes back to the essay. "Where did you get this?" He stumbled for his words, not wanting to incriminate his friend and embarrassed to be talking about such a subject with a girl. As if she knew what he was thinking she said, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone I ever saw this."

Deciding to be honest, he confessed, "Melchy wrote it for me."

"Melchior Gabor wrote this essay?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because…because…I asked…him…to," he muttered almost as if asking a question.

"Why?" She looked up at him, confused.

"Because…Because I had no idea why I was being haunted by nightmares of strange women and Melchy didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that so I asked him to explain. Okay. Now can I leave?" He sounded angry and flustered.

"No, you can't."

"God Ilse, why are you doing this to me!"

"Because I know that you don't really want to leave. So no, you can't leave."

"What do you mean? Of course I want to leave."

"No you're just scared and embarrassed, but a minute ago you were enjoying yourself. You were perfectly happy." He had no reply, rather his just stood their awkwardly, face contorted, trying to keep from crying and not sure which emotion to express. "This essay intrigues me, Moritz. Don't you ever wonder if all this stuff is true?"

"What do you mean…"

"Well how could Melchior Gabor know so much about women and what they feel?"

"Perhaps…he…I don't know, books maybe, but he must know something I don't because he sure is able to focus a lot better than I am."

"Have you asked him about it?"

"Well…yes…just this afternoon actually…"

"And?"

"Well…I asked him how he knew what it…you know…felt like…for the woman…and…he said…'I just put myself in her place…and imagine.'"

"Huh. That's an interesting way to put it."

"Ilse…"

"Uh huh?"

"I…um…is he…Melchior…is he right…about…you know…what it feels like?"

"Well I've never really thought about what it must be like for the man. But Moritz, why does all this trouble you so much. You seem so…unhappy. Just looking at your face right now. You seem disgusted almost."

"Oh, Ilse. I'm so confused. I just don't get it. I can't fathom it. Nothing ever makes sense to me any more. I can barely focus on my school work because I'm too busy worrying all this stuff Melchy tells me I'm supposed to be feeling. But what feelings, Ilse? I don't feel anything! I can't feel anything! I try. I try to imagine what it must feel like for the woman, but still, I feel nothing. What are you doing?" She was moving towards him for the first time since she had escaped to the other side of the clearing to read the essay. When she reached him she folded the essay and slipped it back into his pocket. She stared deep into his eyes and he dared not look away.

"Hold my hand." Without breaking their stare he moved his left hand around until their fingers rubbed against each other. He took her smaller hand in his and then she squeezed his fingers gently. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

Still staring at him she moved her free hand to rest upon his cheek and rigid jaw. He shuddered when she touched him. "Do you feel my hand?"

"Yes," he said quietly, struggling once again to control his breathing. She moved her body closer to him until their chests pressed against each other. She could feel his body trembling but she closed her eyes and kissed him softly anyway. He was utterly lost with no idea what she was doing or what to do in return but somehow it all felt right. When their lips broke apart he said softly, "I could feel your lips, Ilse."

"I know. Here." She tugged on his hand until they were sitting on the ground facing each other. "Lay your head back." She held her hand behind his head and he leaned against her until he was lying flat on the grass, his hands at his sides. She laid herself softly on top of him, her legs off to the side, but her torso in line with his. She placed each of her hands on either side of his face and kissed him more forcefully. He felt like he should be doing something but was unsure of what, so he resolved to nervously move his hands until they rested gently on her waist. "Now there, that's it," she whispered gently, breaking the kiss once again.

"Ilse…I…you're lips are so soft, and your hair," he reached up and stroked her hair all the way from her head down to where it ended, "it's so soft too, and your eyes are so beautiful, and I can hear your heart beat, and…and…I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing." They both laughed a little but then she put a finger over her lips.

"Just follow my lead and it will be alright." She brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him once again, this time running her fingers through the thick brown curls on his head. He matched the force of her kiss and began caressing the long brown strands that covered her back. She ran the tip of her tongue across the front of his lips creating a new and exciting sensation. He let out a small sigh and as he did so his lips parted and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. They kissed passionately desperately trying to gain knowledge of each others bodies as their tongues entwined and they fumbled over each others lips. After several sweet moments Ilse broke the kiss and began placing short soft kisses all over his neck.

"Oh, Ilse," he cried out gasping for air as his breathing became rapid. "Oh, god." He held her body tightly to his, never wanting her to leave his side. This was better than the essay described, this was pure bliss.

Ilse stopped kissing him and sat up. He propped himself up on his elbows and revealed a small grin.

"Ilse. That felt…oh it's indescribable, but it was so good. I didn't know I could feel like that."

She couldn't help but to smile a little. She unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, then another. All the while they gazed deep into each other's eyes. He lifted a hand and began stroking her hair. She had reached another button and did not look like she was going to stop until they were all undone.

"Have you ever done…you know…this…before, Ilse?"

"Well…not really…" She stopped unbuttoning his shirt "I mean no…" She paused for a moment while he examined her intently. "Moritz, do you know why I don't live with my family any more. Why I stay with the artist's colony?

"Melchior said you were banished from your house because you disobeyed your father."

"Yes. Well…" she quickly decided that it would be best for her to be honest with him. For her own sake, she finally said, "My father, Moritz…he used to touch me…but I didn't like it…it felt wrong…I tried to be strong but it hurt…and so I told someone but they didn't listen…and when my father found out that I had told on him he threw me out of the house and told me he never wanted to see me again. I was young and had no where to go. If my mother tried to help me he would have hurt her too. So I went and found the gypsies. And…sometime the artists will try to touch me too and I feel scared. But you Moritz, I feel different around you…I'm not afraid of you. I want to be touched and have it feel wonderful, like you said you felt earlier. I don't want to be scared anymore."

"Ilse…I would never hurt you." Leaning on one arm he used the thumb of his other hand to wipe a tear from under her eye.

"I don't know whether Melchior is right or wrong. I've never felt anything but sadness from being with a man the way he describes in the essay. But, just like you, I want to know the bliss he describes. I want to know what it feels like to be loved."

Moritz, at last, was beginning to understand. This beautiful thing that had started there in the woods was love. Now realizing that Ilse was just as wounded as he was, he was no longer afraid of whether he was doing something right or not. After all, he had read the essay, and he knew enough to get by, but really all that mattered was that he made Ilse feel as beautiful as she was.

He sat up the rest of the way and kissed her once softly on the lips and then began kissing her on the neck as she has done to him several minutes before. He held her as close to him as possible and could feel her chest rising and falling against his own. After a few moments she leaned against him until he fell back onto the cool, soft grass where she resumed unbuttoning his night shirt. Once unbuttoned she began caressing his pale white chest with her hands and her lips while beneath her his breathing once again became hurried. The lower she moved the more excitement he felt rushing through his body.

"Ilse," he moaned, his hands holding her small body above his own struggling form. She kissed him on the lips once more while her hands blindly fiddled with the tie to his pajama pants But, before she could get it undone he had rolled her over so that he was now propping himself up in order to keep from crushing her. They continued to kiss passionately while he took his turn at unbuttoning the long shirt she had been wearing as a dress. Once he had reached the bottom he sat her up so that he could gently slide the sleeves off her arms and cast the shirt aside leaving her almost entirely naked. Laying her back down beneath him he slowly began caressing one of her small round breasts in his hand while never letting his eyes leave her faced. He watched her intently as she breathed in and out, at times gasping or moaning softly.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently, praying that if he was hurting her she would have told him.

"Yes," she said breathing deeply, "I'm fine. Please…don't stop."

He continued fondling one breast while his lips met the other. Then, as she had done with him, he began moving lower down to her stomach, waist, and then hips. He looked up at her for any signs of discomfort, but instead she gave him a half smile and nodded, "It's okay." He gently took the elastic of her panties in his fingertips and then slid them all the way down and off her legs. He then returned to her following the contour of one of her legs all the way from her ankle to her thigh where he then let his hand come to a rest between her legs. Still keen on watching her face he struggled to remember which parts of the anatomy Melchior had mentioned in the essay as being most sensitive. He caressed her gently using just his thumb and forefinger until she gasped loudly.

"Yes! There!" she cried to him as he began to rub her more rapidly. She started breathing heavier than ever before and her body began to tremble beneath him as she moaned in ecstasy. He couldn't bear to see her like this so he stopped, moved until his face was beside hers, and stroked her forehead until her breathing calmed. Unable to resist from doing so, he kissed her softly on the lips then took his hand in hers and kissed the top of her hand. She opened her eyes and stared into his eyes as he smiled back at her.

"You are beautiful," he said gently. She kissed him softly and then they laid there watching each other.

"I can't believe you did that," she said, smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, worried he had done something wrong.

"One moment you're beneath me complaining you have no idea what you are doing, and then the next moment, you have me naked and feeling things I never even dreamt I could feel."

"I wanted to make you feel loved."

"Oh Moritz, you made me feel so much more than love. I can't even describe it."

"Will you show me…Ilse…what it feels like…?"

"What? Oh. You didn't even need to ask. I was planning on it anyways."

"You were?"

"I was," she kissed him softly. "You're the whole reason we're here in the first place. Remember, you said, 'I feel nothing,'" she did a poor imitation of his deepening voice.

"Oh right, well I've already felt tons of things. Just with you holding my hand I felt like the luckiest man on earth."

"But there's always more to feel, Moritz. I want to be with you like Melchior described in the essay."

"Me too, Ilse, I want to be with you, but I don't want to hurt you or scare you."

"I'm not scared anymore, Moritz. You make me feel safer than anything." She pulled him into a deep kiss and then moved to his neck and jaw-line to arouse him again. While she did this he held her naked body close to him, his hands tightly gripped around her waist. Her hands caressed his chest then fumbled blindly with the tie to his pants which easily pulled out of the loose bow it had been tied into. She removed his pants and underwear just as he had done with him then gently seized him into her small hand. She stroked him first gently then harder before bringing her lips down to take him into her mouth. It was now his turn to gasp for air as she fell into a rhythm, moving her lips and tongue up and down around him. He began to thrust against her but before he could release she had stopped and was kissing his lips passionately once more. He was still breathing deeply and dying for release. He rolled her over onto her back and without thinking inserted himself into her. Her nails dug into his back as he thrust against her, but he didn't mind. They clung to each other, moaning and breathing together until with one last thrust he was overcome with sensation and collapsed onto her throbbing breasts.

"Ilse," he breathed, rolling off her, his naked body dripping with sweat.

"I know, Moritz," she said, catching her breath.

"What was that?" he asked honestly.

"I…I don't know…but it was beautiful."

"It was unbelievable. I never imagined anything feeling so wonderful."

"I know, Moritz, I'm so glad we met here in the woods tonight. It's like this was all meant to be."

"It was Ilse, I'm sure of it. Already I feel like nothing can ever go wrong again. No more questions, no more confusion, no more sadness. Melchior will never believe –"

"You mustn't tell Melchior," she turned to him quickly, "or anyone."

"Why not? Surely not any adults, if we were meant to feel this way we would have been told about it long ago, but Melchy is my best friend. He worries about me, I know it." He had stood up and had put his sleep pants back on but left his shirt lying on the ground near the edge of the clearing next to hers.

"I know Melchior is your friend, but you really mustn't tell. I don't want to share this with anyone other than you." She watched him redress.

"But how am I supposed to explain to him my sudden understanding of everything he's been telling me?" he asked as he dressed her in his own shirt.

"You won't, you'll just have to pretend, this never happened."

"But Ilse, will I get to see you again, will I get to hold you again. I want to be with you forever."

"Moritz. Oh, Moritz, don't be silly. Of course we'll see each other again." They laid back down on the grassy patch beneath the stars. "I would meet you in this very clearing every night for the rest of my life if I didn't think you needed to sleep for school. But we can meet every so often. Once a week to watch the stars. How does that sound?"

"That sounds wonderful. I promise not to tell anyone about tonight. Not even Melchior."

"Oh Moritz," she snuggled up between his outstretched arm and his warm body. He closed his arm around her as she rested one of her small hands on his bare chest. "I can't believe the man you've grown up to be. I always dreamed about you when I was just a little girl and we all ran around as friends, but I never thought I would actually be lucky enough to have you."

"We're still just children really. Next year the other boys and I will be entering the upper school. And you? You'll just continue to run around with the gypsies?"

"They are my home now. Maybe once we are older, of marrying age perhaps, I won't have to be wild anymore and you and I can live in a cute little house on the countryside and raise a family and be happy."

"I would like that, Ilse. If my father permits it."

"And if he doesn't we can run away and be pirates!"

"Yes. We can be pirates." He looked down at her and smiled, then kissed her forehead softly, before settling down to watch the stars and finally, at long last, sleep.

Moritz awoke the next morning by Ilse gently running her fingers through his hair. When he opened his eyes he noticed that the sky was slowing turning a clearer shade of blue as the sun rose. He startled, remembering he had to be back to the house before his parents awoke with the hens. "Ilse, what time do you think it is?"

"Just after four I would say. The hens haven't crowed yet. If you leave now you should be back to your bed in time."

"Okay," he quickly put his shoes and shirt on. "When will I get to see you again?

"Are you free after school? We can meet here before dinner."

"No. It's not safe. Melchy comes into the woods to think and I've seen the other girls playing in the stream before. Plus, we have our middle-term exams and I'm awfully far behind in Latin and Trigonometry."

"Well then, how about at the next half moon? We'll meet here again at midnight. Just briefly to see each other if that's all."

"That sounds wonderful. I won't stop thinking about you until then." He kissed her with force and held her close, not wanting to leave, but then he broke off and disappeared into the woods without saying goodbye.

The next day at school Moritz was abruptly awoken by the sound of his Latin professor's switch hitting the table in front of him four times, Melchior counted.

"What's wrong with you," his friend whispered while the teacher was writing on the board. "I've never seen anyone sleep this much in a single class. Not even you Moritz. Another bad night?"

"Unfortunately." He said, trying his best to focus on the work in front of him. "Your essay, thank you very much, refuses to leave me alone. It's like a dog wanting to go out. It bugs you and bugs you until you do something about it." Melchior giggled and accidentally laughed out loud. The teacher turned on them. Melchior's face had gone blank but Moritz still sported the traces of a grin.

"Herr Stiefel!" Their teacher barked at them. "I'm glad you think it is funny that you've slept through most of my class. Please!" He pointed at the board and Moritz began to recite. "Again!" Moritz repeated the lines, trying to maintain his composure. "Again!" Only Moritz was ever made to recite alone in front of the entire class. The teacher had it out for him. "You're getting the eighth word wrong. Again!" Moritz kept reading. Melchior whispered the correct pronunciation praying that only Moritz would hear his words, but there was no such luck. "Herr Gabor, I did not ask you to assist the boy. He is the one who disregards this class; he is the one who will recite these lines until I am satisfied with the pronunciation. Again Herr Stiefel!" At this point Moritz was trembling and almost crying. Melchior could do nothing but sit and watch his friend suffer. Fortunately the day was soon over and they could escape this dreadful classroom.

Several days passed by. No longer haunted by indiscernible dreams and haunting images, Moritz was able focus more time on his schoolwork in the evenings and was even getting a decent amount of sleep each night. Much to his teacher's dismay he had not faltered once in class since that first day after meeting Ilse. In fact, the lone thought of being able to see Ilse again soon was what encouraged Moritz to work hard at his studying for middle-terms. Melchior was astonished by his friend's sudden change in determination and only prayed that whatever had inspired this change would be around until the finals. Moritz was so anxious to see the exams results that he snuck into the headmaster's office before the grades had been announced. It was with great pride that he told Melchior that he had passed. "Oh truly, heaven must feel like this!" he cried to his friend.

Scene: Don't Do Sadness/ Blue Wind

"Moritz!"

"Ilse! What are you doing here?" He fumbled to fold up the letter he had just finished writing, and jammed it in his coat pocket. Ilse ran to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek.

"What a pleasant surprise! We weren't planning to meet today."

"No," he said, trying to hide his anger. "We weren't." He was hoping that he wouldn't have to see anyone.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" she asked letting go of him.

"I…I…I don't know."

"What's wrong, Moritz? Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Yes." He lied "But I'm busy."

"We'll you don't look very busy. What's that you were writing?"

He fumbled around in his pocket, his hand brushing against the cool metal of the gun while he reached for the piece of folded parchment. "It's a letter, for Melchior."

"Why are you writing Melchior a letter? You see him every day. You could just go to his house. That seems so silly."

"I…I am…unable…to speak what I have to say to him." This was an honest statement however, Moritz never had the intention of handing Melchior the letter. Instead, he was going to leave it next to him when he took his own life and pray that Melchior would be the first to find him, dead beneath the huge oak tree. "But really Ilse. You need to go. I can't see you. Not today."

"What's going on with you Moritz?" She brushed the hair out of his eyes and took his reluctant hand in hers.

"Ilse…really I can't – "

"You must tell me!"

"Ilse, no! Leave me alone!" He broke his hand away from hers and turned so that he could no longer see her beautiful teary eyes.

"Moritz, I don't understand. Have I done something? You're always so happy when we are together. What's so different about today? Let's not talk. We can lie in the grass, and I'll let you hold me, and you can run your fingers through my hair. You always love that."

"Not today, Ilse. I have to go."

"Walk as far as my house with me?"

"And?"

"We'll dig up those old tomahawks and play together Moritz! Just like we used to!." She reached out a hand and rested it softly on his turned shoulder. He did not respond.

"We did have some remarkable times," he said at last, still not turning to look at her. "Hiding in our wigwam."

"Yes!" She said, hoping her appeal was working. "I'll brush your hair. Curl it. Set you on my little hobby horse."

He took her hand from his shoulder and turned to face her. "I wish I could," he said sadly before dropping her hand.

"Then why don't you!" Tears streamed down her face.

"Eighty lines of Virgil, Sixteen equations, a paper on the Hapsburgs."

'Cause you know, I don't do sadness – not even a little bit.

Just don't need it in my life – don't want any part of it.

I don't do sadness. Hey, I've done my time.

Lookin' back on it all – man, it blows my mind.

Don't do sadness. So been there.

Don't do sadness. Just don't care.

"Goodnight Ilse."

"Goodnight?"

"Virgil, the equations, remember?" He too was almost crying. At this very moment he wanted so desperately to go with her but he knew as soon as their time was up he would have to return to the miserable state of his disappointing life.

"Just for an hour," she pleaded.

"I cant," he had already made up his mind and he had to stick to his plan.

"Well, walk me at least!"

"Honestly. I wish…I could…" All he had to do was reach out and take her hand. He could go live with her and the gypsies and he would be happy forever. But that seemed too good to be true.

"You know," she said, tears streaming down her eyes. He too was crying now. "By the time you finally wake up, I'll be lying on some trash heap."

"Ilse… that is not going to happen to you. You're too beautiful."

"I don't understand why you won't just come with me!"

"I'm sorry…I am…truly…I can't explain…will…will you take this letter to Melchior for me?" He held it out to her, but then pulled it back. "You must promise not to read it until he has seen it."

"We can take it together, you know," she said reaching out and taking it softly from his grip.

"No. I can't. Now I must go." He turned and left, heading for the patch of woods where Melchior would most likely show up to read the next day.

"Goodbye Moritz!" she called after him, but he could not hear her. "I love you," she whispered softly as if the trees would pass on her message.

Scene: Left Behind

Several days latter the young man Melchior Gabor sat silently in his room staring at the letter Ilse had slipped him during the funeral of their best friend.

Melchy,

If you are reading this you probably already know what has come of me. I'm sorry to leave you like this but I just can't handle it anymore. My father won't even look at me anymore. Every time I catch a glimpse of his face I can see his disappointment. The shame is unbearable. I considered fleeing to America but I did not have the money so I have been left with no choice. I cannot survive in this world any longer. Thank you, Melchy, for being such a dear friend. You did your best to help me and you were always so brave and loyal. You cannot imagine how much I will miss you. Before I say goodbye I want you to know that your essay was right…mostly. I asked Ilse, one night, in the woods, we ran in to each other. She touched me, Melchy, and I felt things I had never felt before. She was so close to me, I could hear her heart beating. I felt her lips on every part of my body. Then, she asked me to touch her. Oh, Melchy, I for a minute forgot everything else and was in pure bliss. Truly heaven broke over me. We fell asleep naked under the stars. After that night everything in your essay seemed to make sense. I was no longer haunted by disturbing nightmares, I only dreamed of the next time I would get to see Ilse. I was able to focus once again and I passed my middle-terms and I was so excited. I don't know what happened during finals. I thought I did well. I should have passed. I never messed up in class any more, but they made an example of me, Melchy. It wasn't fair. They didn't give me a chance. Until now I have continued to see Ilse in the woods at night. We meet as often as we can and hold each other in our arms. She told me not to tell you any of this and to keep it our secret, but I want you to look after her and take care of her for me. You were always so honest with me and I couldn't bear to keep this secret from you but I also did not want to betray her trust. But now…I am gone so it doesn't matter. As you know, I've always had such a problem finding the words to describe my feelings. I was stupid and never told her this…but…please tell Ilse I love her…

Goodbye Melchy…

Your Friend, Moritz

Melchior sat in his room and cried, his tears wiping the sweat from his face. All the emotion that had built up inside him was finally released. He folded up his friend's letter and kissed it softly. A tear fell onto the outside as if sealing it shut. "I'll never forget you Morit, Stiefel," he whispered to the letter as if it was a living embodiment of Moritz himself. He slipped the letter into the heel of his shoe, guaranteeing that no one would ever find it and securing his friend's secret. With every step he took Melchior was reminded of his friend's life.

Several days later, Melchior was back in his room, writing in his journal. After he was expelled from school for writing the essay that the headmaster decided had "hastened" Moritz's death, his parents had taken away all his books and other effects, leaving him only with his journal and pen. But this was enough for Melchior. He had already read and learned everything he needed to know; now all he had to do was develop his thoughts and hope that one day society would change. His father had wanted to send him away to a reformatory school but his mother had defended him. It was his parents, after all, who had permitted the young man to gain such knowledge of such unspoken subjects. And so, he spent his days writing and thinking and hoping that someone would think to come visit him. Of course, his lover, Wendla, was too afraid to enter his house and speak to his parents, knowing the sin they had committed together. However, on this day, he heard the voice of a younger woman at the door speaking with his mother and hoped that it was one of the other girls who had come to bring him news of Wendla. He peered out the window to find Ilse, his old friend, standing at the door in a long white button down shirt that she was wearing as a dress and holding a bunch of flowers. She offered the flowers to Melchior's mother who kindling took them and brought the girl inside. Melchior could hear his mother saying "Yes, my dear, you may speak to Melchior, but only if you allow me to give you proper clothes and you promise to eat a hearty meal. Darling you look so thin, but I think I have a nice dress that will fit you just fine, I barely wear it anymore so you are more than welcome to keep it. I'll dispose of this horrid tunic for you." "No!" Melchior heard her say quickly. "It belongs to one of the gypsies, I must keep it." "Well, if you insist, but still. Here is the dress. I show you where to change." Several minutes later Melchior could hear footsteps coming to his room and he quickly looked back to his journal to pretend that he hadn't even known Isle was in the house. Frau Gabor knocked on the door.

"Come in." The door opened to reveal Melchior's mother and Ilse who stood shyly in an oversized blue dress and clutching the white shirt she had worn in.

"Melchior dear, your old friend Ilse is here to see you. Doesn't this dress just look lovely on her?"

"Yes, Mama."

"She will also be joining us for dinner."

"Yes, Mama."

"I expect you too keep the door open while there is a young lady in your room. I trust you know why."

"I understand, Mama."

"Would you darlings enjoy some tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you, Mama."

"Of course, my dear." She left the room, leaving the two alone. Melchior observed the young woman who stood in front of him. He offered her his chair and when she sat, he perched himself on the edge of his desk.

"Melchior, it's been so long since we've seen each other. I'm sorry to barge in on you like this."

"I'm glad you've come, Ilse. I've been wanting to talk to you," he said casually to her.

"I passed Hanschen and Ernst on the way here. They said you've been expelled from school. I told them, 'surely not Melchior. From all I've hear he's the most brilliant student at the school.'"

"They were right Ilse. The school is blaming me, for Moritz's suicide. I wrote an essay that –"

"I know. Moritz showed it to me. It was a brilliant essay, Melchior. So knowledgeable."

"Yes, well they say that my essay caused Moritz –" Melchior broke off as his mother's footsteps returned. "Thank you, Mama," he said as she placed the tea down next to him.

"Melchior, dear, perhaps you should not be discussing such grim topics."

"Mama, Ilse was Moritz's and my friend, if nothing else I must be honest with her so that we may both make it through this devastating loss." He was trying to control his anger. "Surely you understand what it must be like to loose someone so close to you. You yourself were rather fond of Moritz and yet I do not see you mourning!"

"We all have different ways of showing remorse, regret, and responsibility, my dear," she said, taken aback. "I'll be going now." She made to leave the room.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I should not have yelled like that."

"No. You shouldn't have. But I understand." She left the room, leaving the two children alone and silent.

"Melchior," Ilse said at last. "I think…I could have stopped him…but I said the wrong things." Tears fell from her eyes. "I saw him in the woods, just before he took his life. He was acting funny. I begged him to walk me home but he wouldn't and I got upset. I knew he was confused but I pleaded with him anyway. I was selfish. I made it more about me than him.

"Ilse," he looked into her eyes. "This is not your fault." He got down on his knees in front of her and took her hands while she cried. "A little while ago Moritz was told he wasn't going to be promoted to the upper school, because he had failed his final exams. Since then, his father and mother hadn't spoken to him or even looked at him. He was so overcome with sadness from their disappointment that he couldn't bare it anymore. Ilse, you are certainly not to blame. When he was with you was the only time he was ever happy."

"You know?" she asked quietly, holding the white shirt in her arms to her cheek and feeling its softness on her skin.

"He told me in the letter you gave me."

"I saw him finishing that letter and he asked me not to read it. If I had opened it I would have known what he was going to do and I could have stopped him. But I left. Melchior, see. It is my fault."

"No, Ilse. He had already made up his mind. He would have found another way. Here." Melchior took off his shoe and showed her the letter. He held one of her hands tightly in both of his while she struggled to read the letter in her other hand, which was shaking terribly. He watched her sincerely as tears streamed down her face, and he began to cry with her. After a moment she handed it back to him and he stored it away safely. "See Ilse! He loved you."

"But why didn't he just come with me. We could have been together forever in exile."

"He was confused and he had already made his mind up. Already written this letter. He was too scared to realize you were offering him another option. He had already told himself there were no more options."

"Oh, Melchior," she cried. "How do you stay so strong? You're so determined not to let anything get to you. Not even being expelled!"

"I've learned a lot from you Ilse. You stood up against your father when you were just so young and you were thrown out on your own, yet somehow you've managed to survive. There's always a way to get by, some of us just fail to see it."

"Melchy, I don't know what I'm going to do without him. I loved him, and I never told him, because I wasn't sure if he would understand." She held the shirt up." This is all I have to remember him by. He gave me this the first night we spent together and now I wear it all the time, trying to feel him near me. I don't know if I can ever go into those woods again. I'll never play pirates again." She held the shirt to her lips and nose, trying to catch a sent of the man who once wore it.

"We're adults now, Ilse. This has changed us and made us learn so much about the world. I don't think either of us will ever be able to run carefree and play pirates like we used to. But that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. We can still see each other. We can still find a way to pass each day. But we aren't children. I'll be a strong man and you'll be a beautiful woman and Moritz will be so proud of you." He squeezed her hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. They cried softly into each other's shoulders.

"Children! Dinner!" Frau Gabor called from another room.

The End.