Hi again! Just wanted to say that I had to work through a serious case of writers block to get this to you guys. :) Hope you enjoy!

Pleas

Melchior Gabor sat in his family's hayloft, motionless. He had watched as Wendla had come in, approached him, admitted to him that she loved him, and then stormed out. He still reeling at the situation. So he just sat there. He continued to sit as he saw the rays of the morning sun shine through a small window and stretch across the hayloft floor. He head his mother calling from the door of the barn.

"Melchior, are you up there?" she called. Melchior didn't respond. "Melchior?" He then heard her step up the stairs that led to the loft. He saw her head appear slowly with her entire figure following it.

"Melchior, why did you not respond to my calls? And why are you still wearing the clothes you were the night before? Follow me. I have prepared breakfast." Melchior remained sitting. He looked down at the floor. He believed that if he couldn't have his Wendla, then he truly didn't deserve the life that he was living right now. His mother looked back at him and joined him in his motionless state for a minute before asking, "Melchior, is everything all right?"

Melchior looked up at her, unsure how to reply. He decided to lie. "Fine, Mama."

His mother continued to look at him, but then turned around and said, "Very well then, keep what you will from me for now, but please obey your mother."

"Yes, Mama." he said, getting up. He followed Frau Gabor down from the loft and out of the barn. As he walked, he pondered what he would do with his life now that his Wendla had refused him. He also remembered her last comment. She believed that what could have been spawned in the hayloft was sinful, an act against the God that everyone seemed to pray to. He wondered how something that helped the human race become more expansive could be a sin against their God. He instinctively reached into his pocket to grab his journal, then realized that he had left it in the hayloft. "Oh, one moment, Mama. I need to retrieve my journal." he said, turning around. They were about halfway between their house and their barn. Frau Gabor patiently waited for Melchior to retrieve his journal before continuing to her breakfast of fresh milk and eggs.

Melchior remained in an out-of-mind state. His friends would often worry about him when he would often give them a black expression when they would walk around throughout the town, enjoying the summer sun.

"Are you feeling well, Melchi?" Moritz asked one day on the way home from such a walk. Everyone else had already left to be with their families. It had dwindled down to Moritz and Melchior. "You don't seem to be yourself."

"I'm fine, Moritz," Melchior said, not wanting his best friend to worry. "Don't think a thing of it." Moritz stepped in front of his friend.

"Melchior, don't do this," Moritz said, placing his hands on Melchior's shoulders, "I've been your friend for years and we have always told each other everything. You helped me so much last year. I want help you, too. In any way that I can."

"Moritz…" Melchior said, looking into his friends eyes. He knew Moritz was right. But how could he tell Moritz about something like what happened in the hayloft. He decided to keep quiet. "Please let me through." Moritz continued to hold his friend in place for a moment, before resuming his usual posture. Melchior walked past him, heading for his home.

"I saw Wendla a few nights ago," Moritz said. Melchior stopped. Moritz turned to him. "She really has become beautiful, hasn't she?" Melchior wondered where Moritz was leading this conversation as he turned to his friend.

"Yes, I suppose," Melchior said carefully.

"I remember when you, she, and myself would spend the whole summer together. We were inseparable," Moritz said, his voice getting quieter as he recalled the days that had passed.

"Yes, but those days are over now, Moritz," Melchior said, remembering Wendla's reaction to his love for her. "Maybe we should just forget the lives we are living and move on. Maybe we should just forget what has passed and focus on our present while it is still here before us. No matter what is past, and what will come to be, we have to realize that there will be an end. So let us strive for the best that we can do with the time we have. Before it runs out." It was at this moment that Melchior realized he did want to move on. With or without Wendla.

"Melchi-"

"Moritz," Melchior said, interrupting him, "I appreciate your offer. I honestly do. But I'm not going to dwell on my past mistakes any longer. I suggest you do the same. Goodbye, old friend." With this, Melchior turned back and walked down the road to his house as he left his childhood friend in the dust.

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Melchior was ready. He had packed a sensible amount of books, a good portion of rations, and a few changes of clothes. He was going to leave this small town and explore his horizons while they were still there. He was packing the last of his belongings in a briefcase when his mother stepped into the door.

"Melchior," Frau Gabor said, "Wendla is here to see you."

Melchior looked up surprised. "Really? Let me see her." Melchior stood up and followed his mother to the sitting room. Wendla stood from her chair when he entered. Everything about her seemed the same, except a look in her eyes that seemed to show sorrow.

"I'll leave you two alone." Frau Gabor said leaving the room, but keeping the door open behind her in case she wanted to check up on them.

"Melchi…What are you doing with that briefcase?" She said, looking at the object that Melchior planned to be living out of for the next few days.

"I'm leaving, Wendla," Melchior said steadily, admitting to himself more then her that he really was leaving.

Wendla didn't seem surprised. "Where will you be going?"

Melchior was silent a moment. "Anywhere but here. Wendla, I have to leave. There's nothing left for me here."

"Melchior, don't be ridiculous. There are plenty of things. Your education, Moritz, Hanschen…" Wendla said, approaching him.

"And?" Melchior said, closing the briefcase.

"Me."

Melchior turned to her. "Do you really mean that?" Wendla nodded.

"Show me that you do." Melchior said, turning to her to see what she would do. For a few seconds, all Wendla did was stand there, looking at Melchior. "Well?"

"Melchi…" She said, slowly approaching him. "Please stay." She then, very slowly brushed her lips to his. Only letting them linger for a few seconds. "Please."

Well, thats it for now. Reviews and suggestions are appreciated, shoes are accepted. I should have the next chapter up soon. It will be from Wendla's POV.