Wick, Chapter 8
Title: Wick
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 8
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: Still, as she pushes the door open, he quickly busies himself, burying his face behind a large book. (He’s hoping he isn’t blushing or anything terribly embarrassing and childish like that.) “Anna!” Melchior looks up, feigning surprise, a smile immediately lighting up his handsome face. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
Author’s Note: After some time not writing, this came to be in, well, a flash. XD I hope you enjoy! Please, please, please comment!
Anna quickly agrees to bring a few things to Liesel’s home, arms looped through the woven basket full of treats and other little things Frau Nussbaum would send along to her eldest daughter and her family. Her heart races as she heads down a path completely committed to memory. After quick chatter (about mother and father and what she’s been up to) and a significant look from Leisel, Anna hurries out of the house and into town. She pauses, telling herself to calm down, to maintain a steady pace so she will not attract attention to herself.
Melchior sees her through the window of the bookshop, his entire disposition brightening considerably. Still, as she pushes the door open, he quickly busies himself, burying his face behind a large book. (He’s hoping he isn’t blushing or anything terribly embarrassing and childish like that.) “Anna!” Melchior looks up, feigning surprise, a smile immediately lighting up his handsome face. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
Anna closes the door behind her and approaches the counter with a shy smile of her own. “My mother sent Leisel a gift basket and wanted me to give it to her and then I thought ‘Why, I shall visit Melchior today!’” she explains in one breath. (She’s telling the truth, she swears.)
Melchior chuckles and finds her even more attractive when she is flustered. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’ve decided to visit me today, Anna.”
“Oh, I hope I won’t be a terrible distraction,” she adds, tucking a small tendril behind her ear, only for it to pop out again.
He gently pushes the hair back himself (and she freezes in wide-eyed shock.) “No, please stay. It’s been dreadfully slow and your interruption is only appreciated.” Melchior glances around the small, cramped shop- no one else around. His small smile widens and he comes out from behind the counter, taking her hand. “Come, I want to show you something!”
“Goodness!” Anna exclaims as he leads her to the back of the shop, behind a bookshelf. (And she thoroughly enjoys the feeling of his hand around hers.) “Another book?”
“Not today.” The area behind the last bookshelf is tight, with just enough space for two bodies; Melchior is aware of this and smiles impishly at Anna, who is entirely pink. (They are far too close for comfort and it absolutely thrills her.)
“Wh-what did you want to show me?” Anna asks as Melchior takes both her hands. (She knows, somehow.)
“This,” he barely whispers, tenderly pressing his lips to hers. She reacts immediately, squeezing his hands affectionately. (Anna wants this just as much.) After a moment, Melchior raises a hand to gently graze her cheek and jaw with his fingertips. Just as Anna parts her lips to him, the back door opens and the owner of the shop stares, stifling a chuckle as he clears his throat.
“Melchior…”
The boy steps away and the girl springs back, ducking, shrinking behind him, horrified. “My apologies, Herr Baer,” is Melchior’s smooth response, reaching behind to grasp Anna’s hand.
“Save the romance for the books, would you, boy?” Herr Baer asks, trying not to sound so amused. He winks at Anna, who squeaks in response.
+++
“What is her name, Melchior?” Herr Baer asks the next day as he sits on the windowsill, pipe in hand.
“Who?” is Melchior’s casual response as he tries to place new books in their proper sections.
“Oh, you should know who I’m referring to, boy,” the old man replies wryly, laughing his hoarse laugh. “The pretty one, curly brown hair, pink ribbon…”
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” he says without thinking. (He blinks in surprise, looking up suddenly.)
Herr Baer laughs again, heartily. “Oh, yes.” He takes a puff. “You are a lucky fellow.”
Melchior feels a rather ridiculous, flushed smile spread across his face and he suddenly feels as if he is twelve and not eighteen. This feeling is familiar yet unfamiliar all at once, and it frustrates him, and he thinks of her, an old acquaintance, a new friend, who believes in God and trusts her parents and is always, always searching for answers. “Anna, he says finally, “her name is Anna.”
+++
Anna is singing. It is a silly childhood tune, but she could care less as she sweeps the broom around the house.
“My child, I have never seen you so cheerful!” Frau Nussbaum exclaims as she washes the dishes.
Anna’s heart stops for a moment. “W-well, I-I…”
“It is lovely to hear you sing again,” Herr Nussbaum says, kissing Anna’s cheek on his way to the sitting room. “Will you sing a solo at mass like you used to, my girl?”
Anna shrugs and leans on the broom. “Papa, my voice isn’t as pretty as Mariana Wheelan’s. I’ve not sung a solo since I was thirteen!”
“And that is a dreadful thing!” her mother exclaims, drying her hands on her apron as she enters the sitting room. “Just think about it, Anna- you have a very sweet voice.”
+++
“I think you should ask to sing,” Melchior tells her, his head resting in her lap as they sit in a secluded part of the woods.
Anna has taken to running her fingers through his dark hair, gently massaging his head. “Truly, Melchior? Even if my voice isn’t as good as-“
“Forget Mariana!” he exclaims, sitting up quickly to gather her hands in his.
“Well! I-I… regardless,” Anna sputters, “I’m not very good. Never have been.”
“Prove it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Prove it!” Melchior kisses her hand. “Prove to me you’re not a good singer.” He grins knowingly. “I cannot make a fair judgment unless I have heard.”
Anna sighs and clears her throat, sitting up straight and fixing her gaze on a knot on a tree. She sings a simple hymn in a clear soprano voice, naturally sweet albeit weak and shaky from nervousness.
“You’re terribly wrong,” is Melchior’s immediate answer.
She sighs again. “Of course.”
He laughs and kisses her forehead. “Sometimes, it is good to be incorrect. You’ve a beautiful voice, Anna.”
“But-“
“And don’t you convince yourself otherwise!” He pauses. “If you sing, I shall even stop by to listen.”
Anna gasps and her entire disposition brightens. “Would you?”
“Just for you.”
“Oh!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him.
Melchior catches her around the waist (and cannot help but think about how wonderful it feels when she is pressed up to him like that.)
“I’m afraid I must go,” Anna murmurs, though she cannot seem to release him.
“…Why?”
“Look at the clouds, silly boy!” she chuckles and he looks up, only after kissing her cheek. “So dark and gray…”
Melchior stands and helps Anna to her feet, using a stronger force than necessary and catching her by the waist again. “I shall walk you home.”
+++
“Goodness!” Anna exclaims as she hears a strike of thunder, jumping a bit. Suddenly, it seems as if the sky closes and the thick and heavy clouds are emptying themselves out.
“I guess we couldn’t beat the rain!” Melchior laughs, blinking water out of his eyes and gripping Anna’s hand tighter. “Come, let’s run.” Without waiting for a response, he starts to race through the woods like they all used to in their youth.
“Melchior!” Anna yells, finding herself laughing along with him, her curls sinking and flattening under the weight of the water pouring down on them.
They find shelter in a decrepit, abandoned shack and Melchior wraps his arms around Anna. “You must be cold,” he says.
Anna slides her arms around his torso and presses her cheek to his wet shirt, feeling warmer (and not just because of his embrace). “I’m better now.”
He rests his chin atop her head for a moment, trying to catch his breath in order to return his heart rate to a normal pace, but he cannot seem to do that around Anna. Melchior feels indescribably happy as he holds her like this- everything is good. Simple. He believes he can be perfectly content with Anna and the thought surprises him.
“I do enjoy the rain,” Anna mumbles into the material of his shirt.
“Me too,” he whispers, tilting her chin up and kissing her deeper than he ever had before and it feels fantastic.
“Melchior Gabor? Anna Nussbaum?”
The pair springs apart, looking flushed and wet and guilty. “… Thea!” Anna exclaims.
Author: accio_cowbell
Rating: PG, for now
Chapter: 8
Characters: Anna, Melchior
Summary: Three years after Wendla’s passing, Anna and Melchior find each other and form a new connection.
Preview: Still, as she pushes the door open, he quickly busies himself, burying his face behind a large book. (He’s hoping he isn’t blushing or anything terribly embarrassing and childish like that.) “Anna!” Melchior looks up, feigning surprise, a smile immediately lighting up his handsome face. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
Author’s Note: After some time not writing, this came to be in, well, a flash. XD I hope you enjoy! Please, please, please comment!
Anna quickly agrees to bring a few things to Liesel’s home, arms looped through the woven basket full of treats and other little things Frau Nussbaum would send along to her eldest daughter and her family. Her heart races as she heads down a path completely committed to memory. After quick chatter (about mother and father and what she’s been up to) and a significant look from Leisel, Anna hurries out of the house and into town. She pauses, telling herself to calm down, to maintain a steady pace so she will not attract attention to herself.
Melchior sees her through the window of the bookshop, his entire disposition brightening considerably. Still, as she pushes the door open, he quickly busies himself, burying his face behind a large book. (He’s hoping he isn’t blushing or anything terribly embarrassing and childish like that.) “Anna!” Melchior looks up, feigning surprise, a smile immediately lighting up his handsome face. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
Anna closes the door behind her and approaches the counter with a shy smile of her own. “My mother sent Leisel a gift basket and wanted me to give it to her and then I thought ‘Why, I shall visit Melchior today!’” she explains in one breath. (She’s telling the truth, she swears.)
Melchior chuckles and finds her even more attractive when she is flustered. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’ve decided to visit me today, Anna.”
“Oh, I hope I won’t be a terrible distraction,” she adds, tucking a small tendril behind her ear, only for it to pop out again.
He gently pushes the hair back himself (and she freezes in wide-eyed shock.) “No, please stay. It’s been dreadfully slow and your interruption is only appreciated.” Melchior glances around the small, cramped shop- no one else around. His small smile widens and he comes out from behind the counter, taking her hand. “Come, I want to show you something!”
“Goodness!” Anna exclaims as he leads her to the back of the shop, behind a bookshelf. (And she thoroughly enjoys the feeling of his hand around hers.) “Another book?”
“Not today.” The area behind the last bookshelf is tight, with just enough space for two bodies; Melchior is aware of this and smiles impishly at Anna, who is entirely pink. (They are far too close for comfort and it absolutely thrills her.)
“Wh-what did you want to show me?” Anna asks as Melchior takes both her hands. (She knows, somehow.)
“This,” he barely whispers, tenderly pressing his lips to hers. She reacts immediately, squeezing his hands affectionately. (Anna wants this just as much.) After a moment, Melchior raises a hand to gently graze her cheek and jaw with his fingertips. Just as Anna parts her lips to him, the back door opens and the owner of the shop stares, stifling a chuckle as he clears his throat.
“Melchior…”
The boy steps away and the girl springs back, ducking, shrinking behind him, horrified. “My apologies, Herr Baer,” is Melchior’s smooth response, reaching behind to grasp Anna’s hand.
“Save the romance for the books, would you, boy?” Herr Baer asks, trying not to sound so amused. He winks at Anna, who squeaks in response.
+++
“What is her name, Melchior?” Herr Baer asks the next day as he sits on the windowsill, pipe in hand.
“Who?” is Melchior’s casual response as he tries to place new books in their proper sections.
“Oh, you should know who I’m referring to, boy,” the old man replies wryly, laughing his hoarse laugh. “The pretty one, curly brown hair, pink ribbon…”
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” he says without thinking. (He blinks in surprise, looking up suddenly.)
Herr Baer laughs again, heartily. “Oh, yes.” He takes a puff. “You are a lucky fellow.”
Melchior feels a rather ridiculous, flushed smile spread across his face and he suddenly feels as if he is twelve and not eighteen. This feeling is familiar yet unfamiliar all at once, and it frustrates him, and he thinks of her, an old acquaintance, a new friend, who believes in God and trusts her parents and is always, always searching for answers. “Anna, he says finally, “her name is Anna.”
+++
Anna is singing. It is a silly childhood tune, but she could care less as she sweeps the broom around the house.
“My child, I have never seen you so cheerful!” Frau Nussbaum exclaims as she washes the dishes.
Anna’s heart stops for a moment. “W-well, I-I…”
“It is lovely to hear you sing again,” Herr Nussbaum says, kissing Anna’s cheek on his way to the sitting room. “Will you sing a solo at mass like you used to, my girl?”
Anna shrugs and leans on the broom. “Papa, my voice isn’t as pretty as Mariana Wheelan’s. I’ve not sung a solo since I was thirteen!”
“And that is a dreadful thing!” her mother exclaims, drying her hands on her apron as she enters the sitting room. “Just think about it, Anna- you have a very sweet voice.”
+++
“I think you should ask to sing,” Melchior tells her, his head resting in her lap as they sit in a secluded part of the woods.
Anna has taken to running her fingers through his dark hair, gently massaging his head. “Truly, Melchior? Even if my voice isn’t as good as-“
“Forget Mariana!” he exclaims, sitting up quickly to gather her hands in his.
“Well! I-I… regardless,” Anna sputters, “I’m not very good. Never have been.”
“Prove it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Prove it!” Melchior kisses her hand. “Prove to me you’re not a good singer.” He grins knowingly. “I cannot make a fair judgment unless I have heard.”
Anna sighs and clears her throat, sitting up straight and fixing her gaze on a knot on a tree. She sings a simple hymn in a clear soprano voice, naturally sweet albeit weak and shaky from nervousness.
“You’re terribly wrong,” is Melchior’s immediate answer.
She sighs again. “Of course.”
He laughs and kisses her forehead. “Sometimes, it is good to be incorrect. You’ve a beautiful voice, Anna.”
“But-“
“And don’t you convince yourself otherwise!” He pauses. “If you sing, I shall even stop by to listen.”
Anna gasps and her entire disposition brightens. “Would you?”
“Just for you.”
“Oh!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him.
Melchior catches her around the waist (and cannot help but think about how wonderful it feels when she is pressed up to him like that.)
“I’m afraid I must go,” Anna murmurs, though she cannot seem to release him.
“…Why?”
“Look at the clouds, silly boy!” she chuckles and he looks up, only after kissing her cheek. “So dark and gray…”
Melchior stands and helps Anna to her feet, using a stronger force than necessary and catching her by the waist again. “I shall walk you home.”
+++
“Goodness!” Anna exclaims as she hears a strike of thunder, jumping a bit. Suddenly, it seems as if the sky closes and the thick and heavy clouds are emptying themselves out.
“I guess we couldn’t beat the rain!” Melchior laughs, blinking water out of his eyes and gripping Anna’s hand tighter. “Come, let’s run.” Without waiting for a response, he starts to race through the woods like they all used to in their youth.
“Melchior!” Anna yells, finding herself laughing along with him, her curls sinking and flattening under the weight of the water pouring down on them.
They find shelter in a decrepit, abandoned shack and Melchior wraps his arms around Anna. “You must be cold,” he says.
Anna slides her arms around his torso and presses her cheek to his wet shirt, feeling warmer (and not just because of his embrace). “I’m better now.”
He rests his chin atop her head for a moment, trying to catch his breath in order to return his heart rate to a normal pace, but he cannot seem to do that around Anna. Melchior feels indescribably happy as he holds her like this- everything is good. Simple. He believes he can be perfectly content with Anna and the thought surprises him.
“I do enjoy the rain,” Anna mumbles into the material of his shirt.
“Me too,” he whispers, tilting her chin up and kissing her deeper than he ever had before and it feels fantastic.
“Melchior Gabor? Anna Nussbaum?”
The pair springs apart, looking flushed and wet and guilty. “… Thea!” Anna exclaims.