Wick, Chapter 7
Title: Wick
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 7
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: Melchior looks up from their hands and suddenly feels unusually sheepish under her earnest gaze. Words fail him once more and the corners of his mouth simply twitch upwards in a small smile. “Anna, may I--?”
Author’s Note: For my birthday, the writing gods have bestowed upon me a bit of inspiration. It took me forever to write such a brief chapter, but I thought adding more would be, I don’t know, too much? Anyhoo, please enjoy and leave a comment, if you wish. :)
“What changed your mind?” Melchior asks, watching Anna tend to the modest garden behind her home, which is pretty, though not as elaborate as her neighbor’s.
She looks up from watering the daisies. “About what?”
“Me.”
Anna smiles at him. “God teaches forgiveness.” (And, again, Melchior finds that cannot argue with her.) The wind picks up a few of her brown tendrils and the sun makes her eyes brighter.
He must admit his attraction to Anna, which astonishes him somewhat; Wendla might have been the leader of the group of girls, but Anna had subtle ways to stand out. Sometimes, he listened in on their conversations and she had always said something that surprised him. And here he is, three years later, still surprised, watching her care for her plants and resisting the urge to kiss her again.
Melchior smiles at her when she joins him on the step. “I’m glad.”
“Would you like to come in for tea?” Anna asks, looking up at him again.
“I would,” says Melchior, standing up and following her inside.
She smiles. “Please sit.”
So, Anna begins to make tea and he observes her once more, oddly fascinated by every little thing she does. (He cannot explain it.) “You are not afraid to be seen with me?” he asks curiously as she sets the kettle on the stove.
Anna looks at him in surprise, though she knows very well what he is talking about. “Why should I be?” she asks, setting two teacups on the table. After a moment, she sits next to him and gathers his hands into her smaller ones. “You are kind to me, Melchi, and you listen to whatever, as silly as it may be.” She smiles. “I appreciate you doing that-not even my mama will sometimes.” (Yes, Frau Nussbaum has called Anna ‘ridiculous’ on occasion.)
Melchior looks up from their hands and suddenly feels unusually sheepish under her earnest gaze. Words fail him once more and the corners of his mouth simply twitch upwards in a small smile. “Anna, may I--?”
But before he can finish asking his question, Anna leans forward and touches her lips to his, as if reading his mind. He closes his eyes and dares to touch her face, gently rubbing his thumb on her cheek. She keeps her hold on his hand, too timid to move further than that. (It is an innocent kiss, but Anna’s heart is racing.) What lasted for a second feels like hours to Anna, but she does not mind in the slightest.
When Melchior pulls away, the kiss still lingers on his lips and he tenderly pushes a curl away from her face. The twinkle in her wide eyes makes his smile widen. (She certainly has grown into a lovely young woman, and he wishes to tell her, but is afraid to come on too strong.) They sit for another suspended moment until the whistling of the kettle breaks the spell and Anna jumps up from her chair, startled.
“Oh, the tea!” she exclaims.
As Anna tends to the hot water, fluttering across the kitchen, Melchior chuckles in spite of himself.
“What was that all about?”
“The tea!” Anna repeats, setting two teacups on the table. “I didn’t want it to simply sit on the stove for ages.”
He gives her a look. “I’m certain you what I’m referring to…”
A blush promptly colors her cheeks and she clears her throat, slipping into the chair once more. (He notices that she subtly shifts away slightly.)
“I-I wanted to… I wanted to know…” she trails off, unsure how to string her words together anymore.
“Know what?” Melchior pries further. (A knowing grin plays across his lips.)
“Mind your cheek, Melchior Gabor,” Anna manages to reply, though she cannot keep a smile from appearing on her face either.
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 7
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: Melchior looks up from their hands and suddenly feels unusually sheepish under her earnest gaze. Words fail him once more and the corners of his mouth simply twitch upwards in a small smile. “Anna, may I--?”
Author’s Note: For my birthday, the writing gods have bestowed upon me a bit of inspiration. It took me forever to write such a brief chapter, but I thought adding more would be, I don’t know, too much? Anyhoo, please enjoy and leave a comment, if you wish. :)
“What changed your mind?” Melchior asks, watching Anna tend to the modest garden behind her home, which is pretty, though not as elaborate as her neighbor’s.
She looks up from watering the daisies. “About what?”
“Me.”
Anna smiles at him. “God teaches forgiveness.” (And, again, Melchior finds that cannot argue with her.) The wind picks up a few of her brown tendrils and the sun makes her eyes brighter.
He must admit his attraction to Anna, which astonishes him somewhat; Wendla might have been the leader of the group of girls, but Anna had subtle ways to stand out. Sometimes, he listened in on their conversations and she had always said something that surprised him. And here he is, three years later, still surprised, watching her care for her plants and resisting the urge to kiss her again.
Melchior smiles at her when she joins him on the step. “I’m glad.”
“Would you like to come in for tea?” Anna asks, looking up at him again.
“I would,” says Melchior, standing up and following her inside.
She smiles. “Please sit.”
So, Anna begins to make tea and he observes her once more, oddly fascinated by every little thing she does. (He cannot explain it.) “You are not afraid to be seen with me?” he asks curiously as she sets the kettle on the stove.
Anna looks at him in surprise, though she knows very well what he is talking about. “Why should I be?” she asks, setting two teacups on the table. After a moment, she sits next to him and gathers his hands into her smaller ones. “You are kind to me, Melchi, and you listen to whatever, as silly as it may be.” She smiles. “I appreciate you doing that-not even my mama will sometimes.” (Yes, Frau Nussbaum has called Anna ‘ridiculous’ on occasion.)
Melchior looks up from their hands and suddenly feels unusually sheepish under her earnest gaze. Words fail him once more and the corners of his mouth simply twitch upwards in a small smile. “Anna, may I--?”
But before he can finish asking his question, Anna leans forward and touches her lips to his, as if reading his mind. He closes his eyes and dares to touch her face, gently rubbing his thumb on her cheek. She keeps her hold on his hand, too timid to move further than that. (It is an innocent kiss, but Anna’s heart is racing.) What lasted for a second feels like hours to Anna, but she does not mind in the slightest.
When Melchior pulls away, the kiss still lingers on his lips and he tenderly pushes a curl away from her face. The twinkle in her wide eyes makes his smile widen. (She certainly has grown into a lovely young woman, and he wishes to tell her, but is afraid to come on too strong.) They sit for another suspended moment until the whistling of the kettle breaks the spell and Anna jumps up from her chair, startled.
“Oh, the tea!” she exclaims.
As Anna tends to the hot water, fluttering across the kitchen, Melchior chuckles in spite of himself.
“What was that all about?”
“The tea!” Anna repeats, setting two teacups on the table. “I didn’t want it to simply sit on the stove for ages.”
He gives her a look. “I’m certain you what I’m referring to…”
A blush promptly colors her cheeks and she clears her throat, slipping into the chair once more. (He notices that she subtly shifts away slightly.)
“I-I wanted to… I wanted to know…” she trails off, unsure how to string her words together anymore.
“Know what?” Melchior pries further. (A knowing grin plays across his lips.)
“Mind your cheek, Melchior Gabor,” Anna manages to reply, though she cannot keep a smile from appearing on her face either.