A/N: Had to put this up, 'cause there's just not enough Spring Awakening fanfics out there (I think it should have its own section, but that's just me...they're so hard to find!). Based on the musical. Wasn't sure what to rate this, so I'm making it T because I don't think it's explicit enough enough for M (it's definitely appropriate for anyone who's seen the musical). If you think I should change the rating, let me know. I might write more chapters if people like it.
Plot: Just some thoughts on why Melchior might have started his "research."
Disclaimer: Not mine (would be cool if it was).
Twelve-year-old Melchior Gabor trotted down the hallway, book in hand. Every so often he paused to peer into a room. Finding no one in the kitchen or the living room, he continued down the hall toward his parents' bedroom.
"Father?" he called.
No one answered. That was odd. It was too late for his parents to still be asleep, even for a Saturday. He had been up for three hours.
Melchior made one last sweep of the house before coming to a stop at the door of his parents' room. He pressed his ear to the door. Silence.
Melchior took a step back, reluctant to enter the bedroom. If they were still sleeping, they wouldn't want to be disturbed. He started to back away, but stopped, frozen with indecision. He fingered the creased pages of his book and studied the door.
After several long moments, during which time no sound could be heard from the other side of the door, Melchior stepped closer and knocked twice, quickly. No answer.
"Father?" he called, and knocked louder.
Again there was no answer. Melchior touched the doorknob, then pushed the door open. He quietly entered the room and glanced toward the bed.
He hesitated and stared at the moving shapes on the bed. His father above his mother, kissing her. Someone moaned softly. Melchior's mouth opened in astonishment. The bed sheet had slipped down slightly, exposing his mother breast briefly before it was covered by his father's hand. He had never seen his mother unclothed.
"Father?" he asked, uncertain.
The shapes on the bed froze at the question and stared at him. Melchior stared back, eyes wide. His father quickly rolled to the side, accidentally pulling down the sheet as his did so. His mother immediately pulled the covers over her exposed body, but not before Melchior saw…things.
"Why are you here, boy?" his father asked harshly, face very red.
Melchior stared, not hearing. "What are you doing?"
Both of their faced reddened even more. His mother examined her fingers where they clutched the bed sheet. His father refused to meet his eyes. "Nothing," Herr Gabor answered.
"Nothing," Frau Gabor agreed.
Melchior did not believe it. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"
Herr Gabor sighed. "Son…"
"Why are you still in bed? If it's nothing, why are you trying to be quiet? Why won't you tell me?" His voice was accusatory.
"Melchior!" Frau Gabor scolded. "There is no reason to talk like that."
"What are you doing, then?" he demanded.
"Melchior!" Herr Gabor roared. "This does not concern you! Now leave us."
"But I had a question!" Melchior protested, abandoning the topic of his parents' bedroom activities for the time being. He would continue his interrogation later. When they were dressed.
"Is that why you are here?" Herr Gabor sighed.
"What is your question?"
Melchior opened his book to a marked page. "I was reading, and I came across a word," he held out the book, "that I had never heard before."
Herr Gabor squinted at the book. "Just ask your question."
"OUT!" Herr and Frau Gabor cried in unison.
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