#trans moritz

I say into the mic.

— spring awakening. (transfem moritz tries to come out to wendla in a drabble i wrote at like midnight)

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moritz looked at the dark horizon, oranges and pinks painting the once blue sky. birds flew over the creek, cicadas chipring as they did. moritz looked at the field, seeing wendla dancing barefoot through the tall grass, a large smile on her face as her hair whisked in the air. she danced without a seeming care in the world. moritz wanted a life like hers.

she was beautiful. moritz wanted to be her. “moritz?” wendla asked, noticing moritz. “uh, hi,” moritz said, standing up. moritz was wearing the required male school uniform, picking at the tight vest. it felt suffocating, though only metaphorical. “i didn’t expect to see you out here,” she said, soft blue eyes making contact with moritz’s muddy brown ones. “i followed you here.”

“you did?” she asked, fluttering her long eyelashes. “why so?”

“you’re beautiful, wendla.” her cheeks flushed as she bit her lip, a little unsure as of what to say. “i’m not attracted to you, though. i want to be you, wendla. how do i do that?"

wendla looked at moritz oddly, this tender softness flooding her clouded eyes. “how do you do what, mo?” her voice had the semblance of birds chirping their melodic music in the early morning. moritz's voice sounded like a scratched record compred to hers.

“you’re beautiful,” was all moritz could muster out of moritz’s mouth. wendla stared, then took moritz’s hands within her own supple ones, leading them to a cut down tree stump. they sat down, and she pointed at four trees in the distance, all swaying in the wind to an invisible harmony.

“do you see those trees?” moritz nodded, glancing at wendla. “notice how they all look similar, but none is the same? every one differs from the one next to.”

she must have picked up on moritz’s confusion when silence tanged the subtle breeze as she followed up on her statement. “you don’t need to be like me, mo. you can be you, and i can help you to be the finest version of yourself,” she said, standing up and letting her hands linger away from moritz’s.

she kneeled, almost completely absorbed by the tall grasses. wendla picked flowers of many variations—yellows, blues, pinks, whites—and even though moritz didn’t have a clue what she was up to, moritz remained ever so vigilant, glued on every movement she made with awe. before moritz knew it, wendla was striding back to moritz and held a beautifully crafted flower crown in front of moritz.

“this is gorgeous... i don’t know what to say,” moritz mustered out, cheeks aglow.

wendla gracefully put the crown atop of moritz’s head. “you don’t need to say anything.”

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