Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Martha Bessell is used to feeling afraid.

She supposes it goes along with the territory of being a musician. She was in a band in high school, and she only played guitar and sang harmonies. But before every show, her hands would shake and her throat would get dry. Of course, once the music started, she could focus on chords and the audience and making funny faces at their drummer. She escaped into the world of the shitty covers they played and the even shittier songs they wrote.

It’s not the same kind of afraid that her dad made her feel. That kind of afraid oozed all over her. It felt cold and hot at the same time, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to curl up in a thousand blankets or take an hour-long cold shower. He made her feel afraid to live in her own body. She had to live with it and live with it until he got arrested and even now it’s not totally gone. She goes to bed every night shivering, scared he might come knocking on the door, just like he used to.

But now she’s going to be miles away at college to study music. She gets to escape every day for hours at a time, even if it just means she’s prolonging the time before she has to go back to shivering in her sleep.

Martha arrives on campus to a few overcaffeinated upperclassmen. They give her a lanyard with her name on it and point her in the direction of her dorm building. She’ll be in a suite with five other girls. She doesn't really know anything about them, other than she hopes to God that she likes them. Their suite is broken up into three actual rooms, and one common living space. Martha finds her suite, and opens the door.

Music is already blasting, some top 40 song that she couldn't name with a gun to her head. She follows the music to a door marked with her name, written on a blue eighth note, and a green star reading “Ilse”.

Martha knocks as hard as she can. Behind the door she hears the music shut off with a groan, followed by “it's not even THAT loud, alright?”

The door swings open to reveal a freckly girl taller than Martha with a curly red bob. She has an undercut growing out on one side, and an oversized shirt with “I survived the Mint Room” on it tucked into bright purple shorts.

“Oh, wait, are you Martha?” she asks, obviously relieved, looking at Martha’s suitcases and guitar case.

“Ah, um, yep. I'm Martha Bessell. In the flesh,” she says awkwardly, extending her hand.

Ilse takes it, shaking confidently with a grin. “I'm Ilse Neumann. Film major, she-slash-her, taker of no bullshit. Come in!”

Martha pulls her suitcases into a room that, for now, is the definition of polar opposites. The bed on her side consists of a white metal frame and a blue standard issue mattress. Her desk chair looks relatively comfortable, even if the speckled gray fabric reminds her of TV static. Her closet has no door, just a rod in a rectangular hollow in her wall.

Ilse’s side of the room overflows with color. Her bedspread has rainbows on it, and her pillows are a mishmash of funny sayings and patterns. She has a tapestry tacked up on her wall, along with string lights and movie posters. It looks like she's lived here for months rather than hours.

Martha realizes she's staring when Ilse asks, “so do you need help unpacking?”

“Oh, um, not right now. I'll let you know if I do,” she says distantly, smiling at one poster in particular. “Pretty In Pink is one of my favorites.”

Ilse’s grin, if possible, gets wider. “It's a classic, right?! I just love 80’s movies so much. I mean, a lot of people shit on them, but I have yet to meet one person who can't relate to The Breakfast Club. Like, that's some powerful shit right there. And the fact that they improvised everything in that one scene? Un-fuckin’-real. Anyway, the other girls should be getting here soon. I'll give you some time to get your stuff unpacked. Let me know if you need anything, though.”

Ilse starts out of the room, then turns around, suddenly quiet but still smiling. “You're all right, Martha Bessell. I think we'll be really good friends by the end of this.”

Martha smiles back at Ilse. She decides she likes her. Ilse’s intense, but she seems like the kind of person who would move mountains to make someone feel better. Martha feels safer knowing that she’s sharing a room with her. If someone came into their room in the middle of the night, Ilse could probably punch them in the face without even getting out of bed.

Chapter Text

Martha’s side of the room is definitely more understated than Ilse’s, but she thinks they compliment each other. Martha’s bedspread has more dark tones like blacks and purples. Her walls include a few posters, silly Polaroids of her and her bandmates and a nice picture of her hugging her mom. She hangs string lights shaped like spheres over her bed, and her guitar leans up against the back of her closet. She’s putting her clothes away in her two drawers when she hears Ilse from the common area.

“Hey! I’m Ilse. Are you the Rilows?”

A slightly higher voice answers, just as confident as Ilse. “Yep! I’m Thea, this is Melitta. I’m assuming they put us together in a room?”

It’s really more of a statement than a question. Martha tucks away her pajama pants and goes to greet her new suitemates.

The Rilows look, in a word, intimidating. One has hair redder than Ilse’s and piercing gray eyes. She has on a bright pink tank top and black athletic shorts that highlight her toned legs. The other is tall, thin, and blonde. She’s wearing a white t shirt tucked into a perfectly pleated navy blue skirt. She looks like she’s put up with entirely too much today, even though it’s only one in the afternoon.

The redhead sticks out her hand to Martha. “Hi! I’m Thea Rilow. Pre-law, she her pronouns. You must be Martha.”

Martha finds herself thanking the room selection committee that Ilse and Thea aren’t sharing a room. They’re both probably the most intense people Martha has ever encountered. Still, Thea has an air about her that she won’t stand for any sort of ridicule, which Martha definitely respects. She shakes Thea’s hand.

“Hi, yeah. I’m Martha. I guess I go by she her as well. I’m a music major,” she says, trying to sound more confident.

Thea unabashedly looks her over. “I like your hair and your shorts. They suit you.”

She says this as more of a fact than a compliment. Martha instinctively brings a hand up to her hair, which barely grazes her shoulders. “Thanks, I cut it off as soon as-”

As soon as her dad got arrested. “Um, as soon as I turned eighteen. My first act as a legal adult, you know?”

Melitta smiles at her. It’s a sweet, kind smile, not at all what Martha would’ve expected. “Kind of sticking it to the man. I love it. I’m Melitta. She her, and I’m pre-med.”

Ilse lets out a low whistle. “Damn, pre-law and pre-med in one family? That’s hardcore.”

Thea smiles proudly, drawing herself up to her full height. “That’s a good word to describe the Rilows in general, don’t you think, Melitta?”

“Just wait till you meet our brother,” Melitta laughs softly. “He’s-”

The door opens again, cutting her off. A short girl with jet-black hair backs into the room, pulling her suitcase with both hands. She pushes it back upright and turns around.

She’s easily one of the most beautiful girls Martha’s ever seen. She has bright green eyes framed by long lashes and her smile reveals dimples in round, rosy cheeks. She’s wearing a flowy light blue dress and seems oblivious that everyone except for Melitta is staring at her like she’s descended from heaven.

“Hi everyone! I’m Wendla Bergmann. Are you my new suitemates?” Her voice has a musical lilt to it, sweet and light.

Martha snaps out of it first and offers her hand to Wendla. “That’s us. I’m Martha, um, she her, and I’m a music major.”

Wendla shakes her hand, grinning widely. Behind her, Ilse audibly gulps and sticks her hand out.

“Ilse Neumann! She her, film major, um, hi!”

Wendla looks utterly charmed by Ilse’s awkwardness. Martha catches her sweeping her eyes over Ilse’s long legs and freckles. “Hi, Ilse. You have such a pretty name!”

Ilse looks like she’s somehow trying to keep the color from rising in her cheeks and fails miserably. Thea steps forward and presents her hand.

“Thea Rilow. She her. I’m pre-law. Nice to meet you.”

Martha notices Thea’s voice has gone slightly less aggressive, and smirks. This must be her version of flirting.

Melitta introduces herself, smiling her kind smile, and Wendla looks around at all of them again.

“This is so exciting! You all seem lovely, and … is Anna here yet?”

No sooner do the words leave her mouth than they hear a knock on the door. Wendla runs over to open it.

A blonde girl rolls into the room in a dark green wheelchair, smiling at Wendla.

“Thanks, Wendla.” Her voice sounds a little like a bird. She looks around at the other girls, “hi, everyone, I’m Anna!”

They all introduce themselves again, and Anna breaks the silence that follows.

“So, obviously, I’m in a wheelchair,” Everyone lets out a surprised laugh. “Just so you guys know, I’m pretty independent, and if I need help with anything, I’ll ask you.”

There’s a general murmur of acknowledgement, and everyone agrees to go to their rooms and get settled in.

Martha and Ilse get back to their room and shut the door. Martha looks at Ilse and decides to have a bit of fun. “So, Wendla’s pretty, huh?”

Ilse looks at her with wide eyes. “Pretty? More like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my whole entire life… um. Are you, like, gay or bi or anything? I probably should have asked everyone else but we can do that later.”

Martha laughs. “I’m bi, I think. Probably.” She shrugs to emphasize her point. “What about you?”

“I’m just queer. I don’t really think I need to label myself more than that. All anyone needs to know is that I’m not straight.”

Chapter Text

It’s early evening when the girls get back from orientation activities and dinner. They sit around their little living room in various chairs and beanbags, feeling very full and tired. They don’t realize how quiet they’ve been until Ilse speaks up.

“So, um, I probably should’ve asked this earlier, but is anyone else here bi or gay or anything? Like, I’m queer, so I’m just curious. You don’t have to say anything if you’re uncomfortable.” She nods to Martha, nudging her to go first.

“I’m, uh, bi, but I think I have more of a preference for boys,” Martha murmurs, slightly ashamed. Admitting that always makes her feel false, like she shouldn’t be allowed to say she’s bi. Luckily, Anna smiles warmly at her.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m bi too, and I definitely prefer girls. But we’re both bi.”

“Me too,” says Thea, “and I’m about fifty-fifty. Anyone who says any of us aren’t bi can go eat a rusty spoon, frankly.”

Martha grins at the two of them. Anna is as kind as Thea is blunt, and both of them are totally genuine.

Melitta identifies as aroace, and everyone turns to Wendla.

“Oh, I… I’m queer. I tried for forever to say I’m gay or pan or bi or whatever, but… I figure it’s just easier to let everyone know I’m definitely not straight, you know?”

Ilse looks at her with what Martha can only describe as the real-life version of heart eyes. Thea chimes in, “To be honest, I’m just kind of glad none of you are straight. All the straight people I know are so boring.”

They all laugh at that. Wendla leans back against their couch and asks, “So, what should we do tonight? I feel like we should do something, first night of true freedom and everything.”

“Maybe we could ask our brother?” asks Melitta, looking at Thea. “If we hang out with him, it’ll definitely be interesting.”

Thea smirks, pulling out her phone. “Interesting is a good euphemism for ‘possibly illegal.’”

“Does your brother go here too?” asks Anna, equal parts cautious and impressed.

“Yeah. Our dad is good friends with a few people who work here. Also, we’d all go nuts if we had to be too far away from each other,” Melitta explains, smiling fondly at her sister. Thea smiles, still looking at her phone.

“Okay. Hanschen says that the guys in his suite haven’t decided what they wanna do, but he’s asking us to go up there because he’s tired of listening to them be indecisive,” she states. “They live on the floor above us, so we can just take the elevator up.”

They get up to the second floor and Thea and Melitta lead the other girls to a suite on their right. Male voices argue from behind the door. Thea raises her hand to knock and only taps once before the door swings open.

The boy standing in the threshold looks like some sort of Greek statue. His cheekbones could cut marble, and his eyes, while not particularly large, are so strikingly green that emeralds seem dull in comparison. His golden hair lays across his forehead in a way that Martha could only describe as “swooshy.” His full lips breathe a sigh of relief when he sees the girls at his door.

“Tay, Mel, thank God . They’ve been at it for twenty minutes. If I didn’t value my education and my future, I’d have thrown them all out the window by now.”

“Hansi, don’t be so violent. You’ll give our new friends the wrong idea about you,” chides Melitta, jerking her head to Anna, Wendla, Ilse, and Martha behind her.

The boy steps back so they can all come in. “Don’t be fooled,” he drawls, “my name is Hanschen , not Hansi.”

Ilse gives him an innocent grin as she passes. “Whatever you say, Hansi. I’m Ilse. She her.”

Each girl introduces herself as she comes in. Martha feels hyperaware of herself in Hanschen’s presence. He definitely has the Rilow intimidation tactic down pat.

Hanschen’s suitemates take up the floor, the couch, the armchair, and even the windowsill. They don’t even notice that the girls came in until Hanschen yells at them.

“HEY. My sisters and their friends are here. If you could all stop arguing long enough to say hi to them that would be divine .”

They all turn around, with expressions ranging from slightly offended to intensely interested. Hanschen sighs as he introduces them all.

“This is Otto,” he points to a black-haired kid who looks like he’s about fifteen seated on the floor.

“This is Ernst.” The brunette with a baby face flashes a peace sign from the couch.

“This is Georg.” The sandy-haired boy with thick black glasses next to Ernst waves.

“This is Melchior.” Martha senses slight distaste in Hanschen’s voice as he motions to the particularly handsome boy seated in the armchair.

“And this is Moritz.” He nods his head towards the boy on the windowsill. Something about him makes Martha want to look at him longer than the others. His brown hair looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in months. His eyes hide behind round, thin glasses. His shirt has a few paint stains on it, mostly shades of purple. He catches Martha’s eye and smiles shyly before looking hurriedly at his feet.

Martha finds herself blushing over his fleeting smile, and chides herself. You don’t even know him yet, she tells herself, calm down, he could be a total douche.

A tiny part of her gets the feeling that that’s highly unlikely.

Chapter Text

You can learn a lot about people, Martha thinks, if you go ghost hunting with them on your first night of college.

As soon as the girls came in the room and settled in, Melchior exclaimed that he was trying to convince everyone else to go ghost hunting with him. He went on about how nice it was outside and how their campus was supposedly one of the most haunted in the country and didn’t anyone have a sense of adventure anymore? Hanschen rolled his eyes, but Thea lifted her chin and smirked.

“You don’t have to go outside to have an adventure, darling.”

Hanschen cleared his throat loudly while Thea and Melchior eyed each other with increasing interest.

“Fine, let’s go. But I’m going to complain the whole time.”

So Martha finds herself standing outside the science building, looking to see if the head in the window is just a bust of some dead white scientist or if it’s the ghost of a student who blew their ear off trying to make LSD in the lab in the sixties.

On her right, Melchior and Thea argue about the plausibility of ghosts while slowly creeping closer and closer together. Behind them, Hanschen scoffs and complains quietly to Ernst, who tries and fails to stare at something other than Hanschen’s mouth. In front of her, Melitta and Otto lift Anna out of her chair so she can get a better view of the window. To her left, Georg makes shadow animals with his hands against the building. Ilse lets Wendla jump on her back so Wendla can see the window from a different perspective. Martha catches Ilse’s eye and gives her a thumbs up. Ilse makes a face equal parts terrified and ecstatic.

She takes her Polaroid out of her bag, capturing each of these little scenes on a piece of film. She squints as they develop to try and see how they’ll come out. A bright light shines from behind her, and she turns to see Moritz, holding his phone over her shoulder.

“Does that help?” he asks. His voice is deeper than Martha expected, but still gentle and soft.

“Yeah, a lot,” she says, blushing at his sudden proximity. A sheepish grin creeps over her face, and before she can stop herself, she adds, “thanks for… enlightening me.”

Moritz looks torn between disappointment and amusement. “Oh, my God .”

“I know, sorry.”

“Just… I need a second.”

He sits down on the grass, takes off his glasses, and buries his face in his hands.

“I should’ve seen it coming, really,” he says, voice muffled through his fingers.

Martha sits beside him as he puts his glasses back on.

“I can’t believe I said that, though. I normally save the terrible puns for people I’m really close to.”

Moritz looks at her questioningly, worry replacing his deadpan expression.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean it like that,” Martha backtracks. Shit . She hasn’t even been here a full day and she’s already fucked up in front of a really nice person. “I guess I just felt really comfortable around you already? I think my subconscious is telling me that we’re going to get along really well.”

Moritz looks visibly relieved. The corners of his lips quirk up as he says, “I’m glad this understanding has been… brought to light.”

Martha almost groans, the pun is worse than hers, but she stops when Moritz starts laughing at his own joke. His eyes crinkle up at the ends, and he leans forward, cheek resting on his hand but not hiding his smile, which makes Martha’s heart skip a beat. She grabs her Polaroid again, snapping a photo before the moment slips away.

She spreads out all of her photos on the grass in front of them. Moritz laughs at Georg making rabbits with his hands and compliments her on the one of Ilse and Wendla in particular. The photo of him finishes developing and she lays it on the grass as well. Moritz picks it up with a surprised expression.

“I think,” he says, “you’ve taken the only photo of me where I actually like how I look.”

Something small in Martha’s heart breaks.