Wick, Chapter 6
Title: Wick
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 6
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: “Are you praying?” Anna whispers.
“I’m not sure,” says Melchior honestly, a half-smile flitting across his features for a moment.
“That’s alright, too.”
Author’s Note: This chapter took much longer than it should have and I’m totally worry for the slight wait. Also, I hope this kind of shows the influence Anna and Melchior already have on each other, perhaps? ALSO, check my badass new icon. Anyway- enjoy! Please drop me a line. ☺
Anna bursts through the front door of her house, rushing to get to her room and quickly shutting the door. She throws herself onto her bed and curls her arms around a pillow, kicking off her shoes and bringing her knees up. She hears her mother calling her name out of concern but she does not answer. She’s angry. She’s guilty. She’s sad and her heart hurts.
She cannot believe how impetuously she had acted just then! Kissing him? How could she have kissed him? And he-how could he kiss her, walk with her, when he had been keeping such a secret? And, Wendla- poor, poor Wendla- no one knew! Unless…
Anna looks up to see her mother standing out the door. “Anna, my child, whatever is the matter?” the woman asks, sweeping in and sitting on the bed as well, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
She looks up curiously as her mother wipes away the drying tears from her face. “Mama?”
“Yes, my dear?”
She clears her throat. “What happened to Wendla?”
“Oh, surely you remember? Anemia!”
Anna stares up at her, blue eyes wide and searching. “It wasn’t anemia, mama.”
And suddenly Frau Nussbaum is flustered, her eyes growing wide. “Wh-whatever do you mean? Why would the doctor lie?” she stammers.
“Wendla was pregnant! I think you knew that and you didn’t tell me,” she accuses, her voice soft, hurt.
She reaches out to put her arms around her. “Anna, I was only trying to protect you-“
Anna quickly moves away, standing up, her hands clenched into fists. “Protect me from what? Knowing the truth?”
“Anna, please calm down!”
“Mother, I have lived my entire life listening to everything you have told me, thinking it was right, and you lied about the death of someone I loved!” (She knows she’s being loud and a little dramatic, but she’s understandably upset, and not just at her mother.)
Frau Nussbaum is silent.
And suddenly, Anna realizes the truth in Melchior’s words. Though what he did was still wrong, she realizes that her mother, Wendla’s mother, and the rest- they concealed anything they deemed inappropriate, resorted to lying to seemingly ‘protect’ the children. She stares after her mother as she leaves the room.
+++
Later that evening, as Anna lies in bed, she hears her mother’s sobs through the wall.
+++
Sunday rolls around again. Anna picks her flowers and wanders down the path to the graveyard, quiet, filled with a new melancholy feeling that twists her stomach into knots as she draws closer to Wendla’s grave.
And then she sees him, standing at a distance from the grave, as if expecting Anna’s arrival.
She freezes at the gate, accidentally (or not?) meeting his eyes. Their expressions do not change, but Anna’s heart races as she rushes forward, not to him, but to the grave. She utters a prayer (for Wendla and the baby as well), her hand placed on the stone, the flowers at her knees.
Anna senses Melchior slowly, slowly approaching her from behind and she manages a short, “Hello.”
He finally releases a breath. She’s speaking to him. “Hello.” He gestures to the spot next to her. “May I?”
Silently, she shifts over and looks over in surprise to see Melchior kneeling next to her, his hands folded as hers are. “Are you praying?” Anna whispers.
“I’m not sure,” says Melchior honestly, a half-smile flitting across his features for a moment.
“That’s alright, too,” is Anna’s reply, watching him as he lowers his head and closes his eyes.
“If he exists, how do I know if he’s listening?”
“Sometimes, you don’t always need proof, Melchi. Sometimes, you must leave things to the unknown.”
The thought doesn’t sit very well with Melchior, but he remains in his position if it means Anna will speak to him. (It meant more than he realized.)
+++
And they’re walking again, keeping a safe space between their bodies, quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Melchior’s noticed how Anna’s marvelously curly hair is threatening to tumble out of its loose bun, how a single tendril falls over her left eye. That curl taunts him, daring him to reach across and brush it away from her face.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I know.”
“I should have told you.”
“I know.”
“But, then again, your parents should have told you as well.”
“I know.”
“Anna…”
“Melchior.” She’s somewhere between teasing and keeping her distance. (A part of Anna wants to forgive him, but another part is still, understandably, angry.) “I finished the book you gave me,” she says suddenly.
Melchior looks at her in surprise. “That was quite fast!”
Anna smiles proudly. (She cannot help but smile. Impressing Melchi Gabor is still something to be proud of.) “I’m curious as to why you gave this particular book to me.”
“I saw a bit of Penelope in you,” says Melchior.
A blush fills her cheeks again. (He anticipated this, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.) “Me and Penelope? Truly?”
“Why, of course! Penelope is clever and refuses to marry just anyone, always loyal to Odysseus.”
“I don’t think I’m as passionate or dedicated,” Anna admits shrugging her thin shoulders.
Melchior’s smile widens a little. “I beg to differ.”
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 6
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: “Are you praying?” Anna whispers.
“I’m not sure,” says Melchior honestly, a half-smile flitting across his features for a moment.
“That’s alright, too.”
Author’s Note: This chapter took much longer than it should have and I’m totally worry for the slight wait. Also, I hope this kind of shows the influence Anna and Melchior already have on each other, perhaps? ALSO, check my badass new icon. Anyway- enjoy! Please drop me a line. ☺
Anna bursts through the front door of her house, rushing to get to her room and quickly shutting the door. She throws herself onto her bed and curls her arms around a pillow, kicking off her shoes and bringing her knees up. She hears her mother calling her name out of concern but she does not answer. She’s angry. She’s guilty. She’s sad and her heart hurts.
She cannot believe how impetuously she had acted just then! Kissing him? How could she have kissed him? And he-how could he kiss her, walk with her, when he had been keeping such a secret? And, Wendla- poor, poor Wendla- no one knew! Unless…
Anna looks up to see her mother standing out the door. “Anna, my child, whatever is the matter?” the woman asks, sweeping in and sitting on the bed as well, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
She looks up curiously as her mother wipes away the drying tears from her face. “Mama?”
“Yes, my dear?”
She clears her throat. “What happened to Wendla?”
“Oh, surely you remember? Anemia!”
Anna stares up at her, blue eyes wide and searching. “It wasn’t anemia, mama.”
And suddenly Frau Nussbaum is flustered, her eyes growing wide. “Wh-whatever do you mean? Why would the doctor lie?” she stammers.
“Wendla was pregnant! I think you knew that and you didn’t tell me,” she accuses, her voice soft, hurt.
She reaches out to put her arms around her. “Anna, I was only trying to protect you-“
Anna quickly moves away, standing up, her hands clenched into fists. “Protect me from what? Knowing the truth?”
“Anna, please calm down!”
“Mother, I have lived my entire life listening to everything you have told me, thinking it was right, and you lied about the death of someone I loved!” (She knows she’s being loud and a little dramatic, but she’s understandably upset, and not just at her mother.)
Frau Nussbaum is silent.
And suddenly, Anna realizes the truth in Melchior’s words. Though what he did was still wrong, she realizes that her mother, Wendla’s mother, and the rest- they concealed anything they deemed inappropriate, resorted to lying to seemingly ‘protect’ the children. She stares after her mother as she leaves the room.
+++
Later that evening, as Anna lies in bed, she hears her mother’s sobs through the wall.
+++
Sunday rolls around again. Anna picks her flowers and wanders down the path to the graveyard, quiet, filled with a new melancholy feeling that twists her stomach into knots as she draws closer to Wendla’s grave.
And then she sees him, standing at a distance from the grave, as if expecting Anna’s arrival.
She freezes at the gate, accidentally (or not?) meeting his eyes. Their expressions do not change, but Anna’s heart races as she rushes forward, not to him, but to the grave. She utters a prayer (for Wendla and the baby as well), her hand placed on the stone, the flowers at her knees.
Anna senses Melchior slowly, slowly approaching her from behind and she manages a short, “Hello.”
He finally releases a breath. She’s speaking to him. “Hello.” He gestures to the spot next to her. “May I?”
Silently, she shifts over and looks over in surprise to see Melchior kneeling next to her, his hands folded as hers are. “Are you praying?” Anna whispers.
“I’m not sure,” says Melchior honestly, a half-smile flitting across his features for a moment.
“That’s alright, too,” is Anna’s reply, watching him as he lowers his head and closes his eyes.
“If he exists, how do I know if he’s listening?”
“Sometimes, you don’t always need proof, Melchi. Sometimes, you must leave things to the unknown.”
The thought doesn’t sit very well with Melchior, but he remains in his position if it means Anna will speak to him. (It meant more than he realized.)
+++
And they’re walking again, keeping a safe space between their bodies, quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Melchior’s noticed how Anna’s marvelously curly hair is threatening to tumble out of its loose bun, how a single tendril falls over her left eye. That curl taunts him, daring him to reach across and brush it away from her face.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I know.”
“I should have told you.”
“I know.”
“But, then again, your parents should have told you as well.”
“I know.”
“Anna…”
“Melchior.” She’s somewhere between teasing and keeping her distance. (A part of Anna wants to forgive him, but another part is still, understandably, angry.) “I finished the book you gave me,” she says suddenly.
Melchior looks at her in surprise. “That was quite fast!”
Anna smiles proudly. (She cannot help but smile. Impressing Melchi Gabor is still something to be proud of.) “I’m curious as to why you gave this particular book to me.”
“I saw a bit of Penelope in you,” says Melchior.
A blush fills her cheeks again. (He anticipated this, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.) “Me and Penelope? Truly?”
“Why, of course! Penelope is clever and refuses to marry just anyone, always loyal to Odysseus.”
“I don’t think I’m as passionate or dedicated,” Anna admits shrugging her thin shoulders.
Melchior’s smile widens a little. “I beg to differ.”