spring awakening drabble
Oct. 15th, 2009 01:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tattooedsirenTitle: the flash of a firefly in the night
Ship: Moritz/Ilse
Rating: PG
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
msmoocow
Prompt: Spring Awakening (Moritz/Ilse) + green + Stay On My Side Tonight
Summary: He envies her spirit.
the flash of a firefly in the night
Their lives don’t exist in the same world anymore. Haven’t for a long time. So when she comes upon him in his darkest hour, even through the fog of his mind he wonders if it must be fate.
She asks him to walk her home, and for old times sake he consents. The air is cool and though Ilse doesn’t say anything, she must be freezing. Moritz offers his coat, and her reaction startles him. He realises she hasn’t seen such kindness in a long time, and yet there she is, surviving. Smiling even. As though she wants nothing more in this entire world than his company.
He envies her spirit.
They reach her so called home. The people stagger about and speak at the top of their lungs. He can’t imagine his old friend here, even after her earlier confession.
He doesn’t know how he got the courage for what he did next. Maybe it was the intoxication in the air, seeping into his skin. Maybe it was just because he had hit rock bottom, and assumed things could not become worse. Maybe, and most probably, it was her.
He takes her hand, and takes her to his home. She protests, but he can hear in her voice that she does so just because she thinks it’s expected and her heart isn’t really in it. She talks all the way there, reminisces about the games they played and the times they had, as though they were the best of her life. Maybe they were.
His house door creaks when opened, and the noise sounds so loud in the quiet of the house he fears waking his parents. They creep into the cold dark room, and his chamber feels especially small with the both of them standing in it.
Seeing her standing there, in a shirt and jacket and little else in the middle of his room, sends his minds eye immediately to visions of the two of them together. The words of Melchior’s essay run through his mind, and he can see them together, here, imagines how it would feel, for both of them. He sees planes of creamy white skin that react to his touch, lips and fingers and tongue caressing his body…
With a shake of the head he turns, pretends to be busying himself at his nightstand. She asks what they will do now, as though there is any answer other than sleep. He offers her the bed as he sheds his jacket and shoes, taking a spare woollen blanket from the wardrobe. She slides easily between the sheets, and though the floor is hard he will not complain. In any event, he only endures a few minutes before she reaches down, takes his hand in hers and pulls slightly. He understands her meaning and, though more than slightly terrified, he gets up from the floor and slips into the small bed with her. It’s cramped, his body along the length of hers, but he somehow wraps his arm around her waist as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It doesn’t take long for Ilse’s breathing to become deep and rhythmic, and he knows she has succumbed to sleep. He lies awake all night, sleep elusive like normal, always just out of his grasp.
He wonders how he can experience such highs and lows all within the one day. He fears the morning, fears her getting up and leaving him cold, scared of what happens when the warmth and comfort of her embrace is gone and he is returned to the harsh realities of failed schooling and a disappointed father.
He is scared of the rising sun.
Ship: Moritz/Ilse
Rating: PG
For:
msmoocowPrompt: Spring Awakening (Moritz/Ilse) + green + Stay On My Side Tonight
Summary: He envies her spirit.
the flash of a firefly in the night
Their lives don’t exist in the same world anymore. Haven’t for a long time. So when she comes upon him in his darkest hour, even through the fog of his mind he wonders if it must be fate.
She asks him to walk her home, and for old times sake he consents. The air is cool and though Ilse doesn’t say anything, she must be freezing. Moritz offers his coat, and her reaction startles him. He realises she hasn’t seen such kindness in a long time, and yet there she is, surviving. Smiling even. As though she wants nothing more in this entire world than his company.
He envies her spirit.
They reach her so called home. The people stagger about and speak at the top of their lungs. He can’t imagine his old friend here, even after her earlier confession.
He doesn’t know how he got the courage for what he did next. Maybe it was the intoxication in the air, seeping into his skin. Maybe it was just because he had hit rock bottom, and assumed things could not become worse. Maybe, and most probably, it was her.
He takes her hand, and takes her to his home. She protests, but he can hear in her voice that she does so just because she thinks it’s expected and her heart isn’t really in it. She talks all the way there, reminisces about the games they played and the times they had, as though they were the best of her life. Maybe they were.
His house door creaks when opened, and the noise sounds so loud in the quiet of the house he fears waking his parents. They creep into the cold dark room, and his chamber feels especially small with the both of them standing in it.
Seeing her standing there, in a shirt and jacket and little else in the middle of his room, sends his minds eye immediately to visions of the two of them together. The words of Melchior’s essay run through his mind, and he can see them together, here, imagines how it would feel, for both of them. He sees planes of creamy white skin that react to his touch, lips and fingers and tongue caressing his body…
With a shake of the head he turns, pretends to be busying himself at his nightstand. She asks what they will do now, as though there is any answer other than sleep. He offers her the bed as he sheds his jacket and shoes, taking a spare woollen blanket from the wardrobe. She slides easily between the sheets, and though the floor is hard he will not complain. In any event, he only endures a few minutes before she reaches down, takes his hand in hers and pulls slightly. He understands her meaning and, though more than slightly terrified, he gets up from the floor and slips into the small bed with her. It’s cramped, his body along the length of hers, but he somehow wraps his arm around her waist as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It doesn’t take long for Ilse’s breathing to become deep and rhythmic, and he knows she has succumbed to sleep. He lies awake all night, sleep elusive like normal, always just out of his grasp.
He wonders how he can experience such highs and lows all within the one day. He fears the morning, fears her getting up and leaving him cold, scared of what happens when the warmth and comfort of her embrace is gone and he is returned to the harsh realities of failed schooling and a disappointed father.
He is scared of the rising sun.
