Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening.
Takes place in the FUTURE.
Prompt: J for Jazz
Rating: K+/T
Ernst,
Late at night, if I sit by the window, I hear this wondrous jazz music coming from who knows where. I crack the window open just enough, so as not to disturb my children's sleeping, yet just enough for my wife, that bitch, to hear (accidentally of course). She storms up to me and shuts the window angrily saying how 'she hates jazz music'. She beckons me to bed and I follow. I think she hates jazz because she knows that jazz music reminds me of you.
Love you always,
Hänsy
Ernst sighs happily as he folds the latest letter carefully, and stores it in a drawer in his desk that can lock. He takes out some paper, ink and pen to reply.
Ernst stayed in their little hometown and married the pastor's daughter, just as everyone expected him to do. Hänschen moved into Berlin where he met a Greek girl, hm, Desdemona was her name Ernst believed. He didn't particularly like Desdemona, neither did Hänschen for that matter, but for reasons un-known to Ernst, Hänschen married her anyway. Ernst's wife, Lucinda, was at least friendly and caring.
Ernst and Hänschen lived far from each other, and rarely had chances to meet. The letters were really all they had. Ernst would cling to every word Hänschen wrote, imaging the days when they would spend afternoons in the vineyards doing anything but homework, or the nights spent hidden under bed sheets were they had to rise earlier then desired just to put some clothes on so their parents wouldn't suspect anything.
Hänschen wrote much briefer letters then Ernst did, yet Ernst still got butterflies in his stomach when he would read the letters. It seems that even after all these years, Hänschen still had this effect on Ernst.
Ernst would wait eagerly for each letter to arrive. Perhaps telegrams would be faster, but there was something about seeing each other's handwriting, and reading every word that the other desired to say. Telegrams also cost money, and their wives would not be to keen about spending money on sending love letters. Not every letter was a love letter, but there were still things that Ernst and Hänschen wrote that they would tell no one but each other.
With the railroads, Ernst and Hänschen were able to see each other more often, but they would have to take their respective woman. And there were few brief moments were they could sneak away, drop their masks and steal a kiss.
The letters weren't much, but what could they do?
Ernst takes up his pen and begins to write. He makes sure to ask why exactly jazz music reminds Hänschen of him…