Your Heart, It Sings
Wolfgang doesn't know why he ends up back here; back on that small school stage, children behind him and the spotlight hitting him in the center of the stage. He's twelve again, insecure and missing his mother. He can hear her voice echoing in his head, echoing in the entire room and it almost brings him a sense of calm, it almost brings him enough confidence to open his mouth and sing, the teacher coaching him patiently and with care. Wolfgang can feel the words at the tip of his tongue, knows exactly how he has to sing them and how they need to sound, knows his tempo and his pitch, can hear his mother even louder now, and maybe – just maybe – this once, the dream will end differently.
Wolfgang is about to take a deep breath, about to let the first note leave his mouth, but then he makes the mistake of checking the door in that naive hope that his father won't be there, that he won't have to see him – not now, not tonight, not ever again – but sure as hell there he is, standing by the door. His laughter starting off as incredibly silent even though his mouth is open, as if he's on a muted television channel, a grimace on his rough features. Slowly, the volume gets turned up and his mother's voice – that lovely, beautiful sound, the sound of care and safety – is becoming smaller and quieter, pushed out of the room by the harrowing laughter of his father, and it's like a metaphor for their entire life.
Just like that, Wolfgang's throat is closed up again. The words are gone, never to be let out, the monster taking them away as he's taken everything, as he'll take everything, because Wolfgang's worth nothing, he's worth nothing and the monster laughs and laughs and laughs, his father's face distorting but never disappearing or going away, so Wolfgang will. He'll escape, he'll run, he'll wake up; why can't he wake up?
Suddenly, there's a hand in his. The hand is delicate, but the grip is tight, and Wolfgang is grounded instead of fleeing. The warmth that left with his mother is slowly coming back, filling his heart, and Wolfgang feels like he can breathe again. The world becomes brighter.
He looks to his side to see a girl his age, her light brown hair braided, a reassuring smile on her face that instantly makes him want to smile back. She doesn't break eye contact with him as she slowly starts singing, a slow, careful tune that picks up in strength the longer she sings. "Sofðu unga ástin mín, úti regnið grætur."
Riley nods at him, urging him to sing with her. He understands the song, knows the lyrics in his heart just as well as she does, and he keeps his eyes on hers as he carefully finds his voice and sings the song with her. Their voices grow louder and stronger with each word, and he entertwines their fingers now, returning her smile as they continue. He can't hear his father now, even if he listened for him. He doesn't even bother to look at the door to see if he's still there. Wolfgang only looks at Riley. "Það er margt sem myrkrið veit, minn er hugur þungur."
He's no longer twelve, and her hair isn't light brown and braided. It's shorter and bleached white, a blue streak in it. Her eyes show more depth, more pain but also more joy. Her smile is bigger if possible, and she's still holding his hand. And he knows she won't let go. She won't ever let go, until he is safe.
When he finally starts to wake up, he can feel her holding him, a hand going through his hair, her voice soft in his ear. He knows she's not actually here with him, but it still feels so undeniably real. Her singing soothes him. "Mæðan kenna mun þér fljótt, meðan hallar degi skjótt, að mennirnir elska, missa, gráta og sakna."
When she finishes the song, Wolfgang lets his eyes open. He looks up at her, his head cradled in her lap, and she's still soothingly running her fingers through his hair. He feels like he could stay there forever.
"Thank you." he whispers and Riley smiles down at him before leaving a kiss on his forehead.
"Rest now, Liebling." she tells him, cupping his cheek ligthly before she leans back again and resumes the comforting motions of caressing his hair.
Wolfgang brings up one of his hands to gently entertwine with the one she keeps on his shoulder, and he gives it a light kiss before he closes his eyes again.
This time, he has no nightmares.