Ilse didn't let go of Melchior's hand as she led them inside the building and around a table in the corner. The room wasn't what they'd call clean, but it was definitely homey. There were at least twenty other people crowded in with them, chatting and scribbling onto slips of paper as they sipped their morning coffee. Ernst felt a few twinges of jealousy at the lust-filled glances Hanschen was receiving from ten or so members of the household, but they vanished as the blonde boy's fingers wrapped around his own, leading him to a chair opposite Melchior.

"So..." Ilse glanced at Melchior before launching into their story full-on. He made a slight gesture for her to get it over with. "I made it a habit to put flowers on Moritz's grave whenever I could, and one night he was with Moritz as well. We had always gotten along so well, and I knew what had happened with Wendla because I always delivered their letters. We met up almost every week after that. At first it was just remembering Moritz, when we were in school, playing pirates, but then we got to talking about eachother and there were just...so many connections we'd never made, so many similarities in how we saw the world. Let's just say it didn't take long for the relationship to evolve."

"That simple, huh? How very nice for you." Hanschen muttered.

"Actually, yes." replied Melchior, a little more sharply than necessary. "This building is exactly halfway between Priapia and our home village, it became a perfect meeting place. There wasn't any need for us to become complicated, Hanschen, we were already both outcasts."

Ilse placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down before his voice rose any further. He ignored it, brushing her aside. "Melchior, please-"

"Don't! I led them out of danger, I took risks for them! And the thanks I receive is a snide remark? They know nothing of how much danger their position has put us in-" he turned suddenly and lifted his shirt over his head to reveal the stretch of skin covering his back. It was marred by the all-too-familiar sight of criss-crossing scars reaching from shoulders to waist. "I spoke up. I entered the village knowing how unwelcome I was and I demanded that the elders at least give you a fair trial. They flogged me in the town square in front of everyone, Martha, Otto, Thea, Georg, Ana...They don't see me anymore. I'm just some criminal to them now, do you realize that? But I thought it would be worth it for you two!"

"He didn't mean anything by it." Ernst cut in wearily. "Trust me," he lifted his shirt as well, ignoring Melchior's gasp of surprise "we know what we must be putting you through and it means more than you can imagine. Hanschen only made the remark because of the irony he found in your story."

"Irony?"

"In the fact that while you and Ilse are together because you're outcasts, Hanschen and I are outcasts because we're together." he stated simply. "My father found out and, I think, intended to beat me to death. He would've indirectly succeeded if Ilse hadn't found me and brought me to Hanschen, so please believe me when I say we know what we're up against."

The words seemed to calm Melchior, who finally sat down and ran a hand through his hair. "We should get you two to a room. You've been traveling all night, you could do with some sleep."

Ilse's eyes filled with concern. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "I'm behind on kitchen duty. I'll be alright." he turned to the chattering throng behind him and called over a girl of maybe fifteen who, for reasons unknown, was carrying what looked like a version of the miniature-chalkboard slates they had once used in school. "Elise, could you be a dear and show Hanschen and Ernst to a room?"

The girl named Elise nodded and gestured at the two to follow her upstairs. They didn't speak, even as Ernst thanked her after she unlocked the door. "Not much for words, was she?"

Hanschen chuckled a little. "Ernst, I swear, you never cease to amaze me with your naivete."

"What do you mean?"

"That girl was a mute. She couldn't have spoken if she wanted to, though by the look of her she did not wish to. What did you think the slate was for?"

Ernst blushed as they stepped inside. "I...I thought she might be taking lessons. How would you know?"

"This isn't the kind of place where they teach their children to do math problems with bits of chalk. Did you see the look in her eyes? She's been taught to distrust newcomers, my guess is the other residents aren't much different. We're all outcasts here, to the point where we know better than to give out information to people simply because they might know how we feel."

When the two had finally settled in enough to get some sleep, the sun was just barely beginning to fade into the hills. They breathed a sigh of relief as they crawled into bed, happy to be together without a thousand worries pressing on them. Hanschen had begun to drift off when suddenly Ernst pulled away from his arms. "Ernst?" he murmured groggily.

"Please don't be angry with me." he whispered, "But sometimes I can't help but to wonder if maybe my father's right. That loving you as much as I do is going to send us to Hell." his shoulders shook with the confession and was quickly rebound by Hanschen's arms.

"Dearest, if I may be blunt, I've always thought your father was a filthy bastard. This idea of his that a person will spend eternity in torment because of who they love merely proves my point. He has no idea what he's talking about, and probably never will." he kissed him, slowly, deeply. "Sometimes you have to close your ears and trust what your instincts tell you. What do you think I was doing that night in the vineyard?"

Ernst groaned. "Please, don't remind me of that. We've got another twenty-five years before it stops being embarrasing and starts being incredibly beautiful." he curled up under the blanket again and sighed. "I love you even more now, you know."

"I love you too, Ernst. Always did." Hanschen whispered with a yawn.

They settled uneasily into the rythm of the community. Laundry on Mondays. Kitchen duty on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Dusting and tidying on Thursdays. Studying/Trade on Fridays. Weekends were reserved for socialization and, if it was wanted, prayer. It was a far different lifestyle than they'd ever known, and it wasn't exactly easy getting used to the sideways glances they received day after day, but it was worth it to feel safe at night. The fact of the matter was that it worked.

Until the day they awoke to a world on fire.