Come Back To Me8
By Aoikami Sarah
NOTE: Moliggan Brightside sings "Yesterday" by the Beatles.
This chapter includes vomiting and alcohol abuse.
Chapter 10
In the wee hours of the morning the staff of the Lavish Chateau were winding down for the night, cleaning up after the patrons and getting things neat and tidy for another day before calling it quits. A nervous-looking human man with slicked back hair swept through the bar area and found the minotaur bouncer flipping chairs up for the cleaning crew. "Uh, Blude, I can't get him to listen to me."
Blude exhaled loudly through his nose, ruffling the young man's shirt. "Gods dammit," he grumbled. "Fine." He handed a chair to him and the small man strained a bit under its weight as Blude stomped off into the club.
All the patrons had long gone home, save one.
"Fuckin' Molly," he grumbled.
Moliggan Brightside was slumped over a table, face down and clutching a tall, empty bottle in one hand. There was a dinner knife loosely held in his other hand and the remnants of a meal half eaten scattered around him. Blude took a fistful of the back of his jacket and made to heft the drunk to his feet.
If the minotaur's reflexes had been worse, he would not have been able to avoid what happened next. In a flash, Molly gripped the knife and as he popped up he attempted to attack whoever it was who had grabbed him with the small, serrated blade (designed for cutting a steak, not an adversary, but still sharp).
"Whoa!" Blude shouted and easily disarmed him. "What the fuck, Molly!"
Molly swooned and looked up at the enormous, dark, furry form that loomed over him. "Oh…" he muttered and was probably going to apologize but something about the way he opened his mouth and no words came out was terrifyingly familiar to the bouncer.
"Not in here you don't!" he shouted, scooped him up and charged out the back with him. Blude set him down only a little roughly on all fours and stepped back as Molly vomited onto the ground behind the Chateau.
Molly tried to get to his feet, but slipped and nearly landed in the pile of sick before him.
"This is above my fuckin' pay grade," Blude grumbled, helped him up and opened the door back into the building. "Come on, you. If I letcha go like this Marion'll kill me."
.x.
Molly sat on a stool at the bar and Blude poured him a glass of water. After he'd had enough of it that Blude was satisfied he wasn't going to throw up again he leaned in close and stared Molly down. "You attacked me," he whispered, gruffly.
"Did I?"
"You did," he said slowly.
"Ya don't say?"
"I can't tell if you're bullshittin' me or not, Brightside, but you better not be. Why'dja do that?"
Molly focused on the ring in the bouncer's nose and cleared his sore throat. "I honestly do not know why I did that." His words came out staccato, pointed and deliberate. "My guess? Ya startled me," he slurred. "Did you know that you are one imtiman...itimimim...you're a little scary?"
"Why are you so hammered all by your lonesome? Cause Marion was busy tonight? You got all them other friends a yours, don'tcha?"
Molly licked his teeth and waved his hand as if to discount that statement. "I have fucked up, Blude. Really, really fucked up this time."
"Gustav kick you out?"
"Yyyyep." Close enough.
"I don't blame him. You're a godsdammed shitshow and he's a good man you got. Y'oughtta be ashamed a yerself."
"Thank you for that, Blude. You, sir are an expert trash removal... expert," he drawled, slid off the stool, and tottered out the door.
.x.
Molly woke the following day on the little divan in the front room of the apartment and lay very still. His head throbbed and he felt like he would break with every movement. He could not recall how he made it back, but he did remember throwing up in an alley and Blude trying his best to help him in his own way.
About an hour later he slowly and carefully rose from the divan and relocated to the bedroom. The sun was low in the sky by the time the hangover had passed. Molly stood in the doorway and listened carefully. "Gustav?" he asked the silence then slumped his shoulders. He thought he should find something to eat and trudged around the corner. He knew there was a loaf of bread and some cured sausage tucked away and if he was lucky a couple pieces of fruit that wouldn't have turned too badly yet.
The scant light glinting off something on the floor near the bar caught his eye and stopped him short. The beautiful cut-glass decanter he had gotten as a present for Gustav was smashed to pieces and someone had tracked glass and liquor away from the bar and toward the door. Molly stepped carefully toward the little cabinet that served to hold up his prodigious collection of intoxicants. Four glass tumblers sat crammed together, half-full, presumably of the sherry from the decanter—the one thing besides red wine that Gustav liked to drink. The stuff was also spilled around them and had ruined the finish. He struggled to remember the night before, and though his memory was incomplete he was positive he would have remembered breaking something so precious to him. The whole scene screamed 'something is not right' and Molly broke out in a cold sweat. He shook his head. "No, he's just messing with you," he whispered. "Trying to make you think something terrible happened." He turned around slowly in place taking in the rest of the room. The only other thing out of place was another tumbler, this one mostly empty, sitting on the little table by the divan. Molly gave it a sniff and noted it contained the same sherry that was spilled. "He got shitfaced just like you did and he poured it all out into those glasses then smashed the decanter to spite you." He couldn't remember if Gustav had been home when he dragged himself back in the door. He couldn't remember him leaving while he slept on the divan. As a nauseating doubt nagged at him he decided to head to the shop to get some answers. Molly hastily cleaned himself up a little then went to head out. His eyes lighted on the bar once more and he did a double-take as he noticed something else out of place.
Molly stepped carefully around the mess on the floor and reached out with a trembling hand for the platinum and tarnished silver ring, one size smaller than his own, tucked just behind one of the bottles. He slipped it on his pinky and suppressed a panicked shriek before bolting from the house.
.x.
Gustav hadn't shown up for work that morning. Ema had hoped he and Molly made up and were sleeping in. Her brows arched as she asked him when was the last time he saw him, but before she had finished, Molly ran into the street and flagged down a Zolezzo who took him to the nearest station to report Gustav missing.
Once they heard that the two men had had a fight the night before they tried to placate Molly with assurances, but it was clear the authorities were convinced that his disappearance was romantically motivated. They told him they would let him know if they heard anything.
Molly trudged back to the shop in a daze. He told Ema what they police had told him and answered her questions with vague answers before she became frustrated and shouted at him to look her in the eye and tell her what happened.
He looked down on his tiny grandmother with glistening eyes and a lost expression. "I broke his heart," he said. "This is all my fault. Whatever happened to him, I deserve it." He turned and left Ema standing dumbfounded and weeping.
He didn't remember getting home. He grabbed a bottle from the bar on his way to the bedroom and didn't leave the building for the next week.
.x.
On the morning of the eighth day, a young woman with a satchel stuff full of papers and small packages knocked on the door of the house. After a few moments she knocked again more forcefully and looked nervously from the door to an envelope she held in her hand. She had just started to knock for a third time when the door swung open slowly revealing a shirtless, heavily scarred and tattooed tiefling who glared at her through red eyes rimmed with sleeplessness and smudged makeup. "What?" he asked.
"M-Moliggan Brightside?" she asked, voice wavering.
"What?" he repeated.
"A message for y—"
He snatched it and slammed the door in her face. Molly tore the note open and tried to read it as fast as he could, but his illiteracy blocked all but the words 'Molly', 'Love', and 'Marion'—enough to get the idea that it had nothing to do with Gustav. His chest heaved and he cursed heavily in Infernal. A knock sounded again and he slowly opened the door to give the courier a curious look.
"I'm sorry, sir. I've been asked to take your reply with me."
"My reply…sure. My eyes're kinda fucked up," he mumbled and shoved the note at her. "Wha's it say?"
She squinted at it as he held it out for her to read. "Molly, I'm worried about you. Please send word you are alright. Love, Marion."
Molly sighed dramatically. "Ya hear that? The Ruby of the Sea wantsa know if'm ok," he slurred and dragged a clawed hand suggestively across his chest. "You may tell my beloved Marion," he said slowly, trying to enunciate the best he could, "that I'll pay her a visit, post haste." He flicked his forked tongue at her and the poor girl turned and fled. Molly laughed darkly, retreated inside and leaned against the door.
"Fuck."
.x.
When Marion Lavorre heard the four knocks on her door (Molly's knock: one two-three four) she didn't wait for her handmaid to get it. She bounded across the room in a few graceful strides and whipped the door open. "Molly!" she cried and the pleased look shifted to one of worry. "Oh, you look terrible!"
"Well, y're the one wanted ta see me," he mumbled with a sheepish look and let her pull him into the room. She seated him and fussed over him, peppering him with questions.
He reached out for a half-full bottle of wine on an end-table and she stopped his hand. "I can smell you from here, darling," she admonished. "Please don't."
"Mer, i's the only thing keeping me from fallin' apart."
Marion stared at him intensely. "Blude told me Gustav kicked you out."
"Incorrect. We had a terrible fight," he said, slurring a little as he brushed her delicate hand aside and uncorked the bottle. "And then he vanished without a trace."
Marion gasped and yanked the bottle from his hands. "You can't be serious!"
"As a heart attack. Didn't take anything with him. No money missing, no clothes packed. Never reported fer work las' Wednesday morning. Haven't seen 'm since."
"That's terrible!"
"And so'm I. Please may I have that?" he asked and held out his hand for the bottle.
"No. And no you are not. What in the world happened?"
Molly gave up trying to get her to give him the wine and slumped back in his chair. He told her everything that happened including the night of the party and the subsequent fight. "I'm not entirely sure he meant that I was screwin' someone else or if he was usin' 'fucking' in the usual way ta mean 'very' or 'seriously' in reference ta my becoming literally someone else, not that it really matters, because Gustav never, ever swears, an' it was like havin' my face peeled off ta hear it."
"Oh, Molly, I'm sorry."
"And I'm gettin' sober sittin' here and the dread's startin' ta creep back in an'm just so fuckin' miserable, Mer." At last, Molly cracked. His face contorted, lower lip trembling, brows pinched tightly together and he sobbed. "I'm scared. I don't know if he's dead or alive and I feel like I wanna curl up and die!"
Marion rushed forward and put her arms around him. "No, please don't say that! He was hurt and you both said hurtful things, but you have a strong love. You must be able to find the strength to endure in that."
"But I ruined it…"
She shook her head. "Love may not always be a raging fire, but it never dies. That's what is important—what's real. Fame, adoration, pleasure—these things are fleeting. They wilt and fade. They decay. Love does not," Marion said with a sad, closed-eye smile. "Love stays. I hold love in my heart always and it shines for me through any darkness."
Coming from a prostitute who never left the bordello she was tied to, this was quite the statement, indeed. He let it sink in under the fading layer of intoxication, nodded, and hugged her back.
"I want you to do some things for me," she said, took his hands in hers and leaned back to look into his eyes. "One, stop drinking. Right now. Two, come see me for lunch every day. No excuses. I will help you. Do this for me?"
"I'll try."
"You'll do," she insisted in Infernal and squeezed his hands. "And I think I may be able to relay a message to Gustav through my friend who knows magic."
Molly perked up at this. "You can?"
"I cannot guarantee it, but I will ask her when she calls out to me."
Molly thanked her profusely and promised to do his best. She kissed his forehead and told him to go see an apothecary as she knew that coming down off an eight-day drunk would hurt. She would let him know the moment she knew anything and would see him tomorrow at noon.
As he left the venue, Molly passed by its huge, well-stocked bars and bit the inside of his cheek, but thought of Marion's pleading eyes and her love gave him the strength to walk on by, out into the sunshine.
.x.
The apothecary they frequented was a few doors down from Fletching & Fletching in the Open Quay and Molly stood in front of it, squinting down the lane at the sign with his husband's name on it. Though he was starting to shake and felt like he would throw up at any moment, he hugged himself and made up his mind. "It already hurts like hell. What's more pain at this point?" he asked and walked slowly to the shop.
Emerald Fletching was alone. She looked up from some hand-work she was doing as the bell rang and froze, needle in mid-stitch. "Molly."
"Ema." A pair of children ran by outside, shouting about some amusement or another and he flinched. He looked down and away from her penetrating gaze. "I have maybe some good news, kind of. Maybe not. Marion has a friend who does magic. They might be able get a message to Gustav, but maybe not. I'm not going to get my hopes up and you shouldn't either, really, but it's better than nothing."
"Where have you been?" she asked—slowly, quietly, angrily.
Molly flinched again. "H-home."
"You didn't answer the door."
"I…" The words got stuck in his throat; telling her that he didn't hear her knock felt more excuse than explanation and he choked them down. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Sir Epwint has been pushing the Zolezzo to act. They found a witness."
Molly's head shot up and he stared at her in disbelief. "A witness…?"
"Gustav got in a carriage in front of your house on Tuesday night last week with four unidentified men."
The room went away. He saw the four glasses of liquor on the bar in his mind's eye and he dropped to his knees. The implications this had on the handful of theories he'd tried so hard not to dwell on for the last week quickly sickeningly recalculated in his head and he whimpered. "He didn't wander out drunk and fall off a pier…" he breathed and hugged himself tighter. "He was...taken?"
Ema slipped off her stool and slowly approached the trembling tiefling. "Molly. Show me your hands."
He lifted his chin and gave her a confused look.
"Show me," she insisted, face dark and stern.
"I'm sorry…" he repeated and unwrapped his arms from around himself and presented his hands for her inspection. The only rings that adorned them were the two he'd had made for his marriage. He could not stop them from shaking. "I didn't hear you knock. I've been drunk ever since—"
"You foolish boy!" Emerald barked. "When will you learn?! When you hurt you tell the people who love you! That is what we are for!" She grasped his hands in her tiny ones and pulled him to her, tucking his horned head under her chin and clutched him tightly. His whole body spasmed as he broke down and bawled loudly. "I love you, Molly, and I came looking for you and I couldn't reach you and you were not there for me, either. You are my family, you fool boy," she chastised him and wept. "I need you just as much as you need me."
He begged her forgiveness through stuttering sobs and once he'd calmed, Ema released him, closed the shop, and set about caring for her grandson. "I'll go get your medicine. You'll stay here, tonight and I'll straighten you out." He opened his mouth and she cut him off before he could utter a syllable. "Ah-ah! No buts."
Molly smiled kindly on the old woman, wiping his face with a handkerchief she gave him. "I was just going to say, 'yes, Yiayia'."
.x.
Nine days later while Marion Lavorre dressed that morning her daughter's voice echoed in her head, checking in as she did occasionally with her whereabouts and news.
Hello Moma, we're in Zadash. Not much going on. It's cold. I want to come see you but not sure when we can. Love you!
Marion took a deep breath and read from a note she'd prepared for the occasion.
Dear Friend's husband missing two weeks ago. Gustav Fletching. Tall, half-elf, ashy brown hair, brown eyes. Tailor. Please send him message. Ask if safe.
.x.
Gustav could not suppress a shuddering breath as Jester's voice echoed in his head. Desmond cracked an eye open and watched him as he bent at the waist, putting his head between his knees. "Gustav, we heard you are missing. If you need it, we'll save you. Where are you? If not safe, cough twice. Twenty five word limit reply."
He tried to calm his breathing and whisper into his hands as quietly as he could. "En route to Shady Creek... Not safe... Please help..."
The rattling of the carriage covered the actual words, but wasn't enough to hide his whispering. He cried out as his braid was viciously pulled, causing him to lurch toward Desmond.
"A little late for prayers, don't you think? Shut your mouth and sit up straight."
"Forgive me, Master Jagentoth!" Gustav cried and was released. He sat back against the seat and squeezed his eyes shut, bemoaning the loss of thirteen more words he could have added to the reply. He would have liked to have asked who his ethereal would-be saviors were. The message had come to him as if in a dream and the reality of it and any hope it might have brought him slipped further away with every mile he drew closer to House Jagentoth.
.x.
Jester blinked and her hand flew up to her mouth as his words reached her. She made a small, startled squeak as he cried out and waited a few moments for more, but the spell faded in silence broken only by his pained breathing.
"Oh no, you guys, it's real bad. He's alive, but he's being taken to Shady Creek."
"Shady Creek?!" Beau shouted. "That fuckin' place…"
"And does the name 'Jagentoth' mean anything to anyone?!"
Caleb swallowed and his brows came together. "It is the name of the family that controlled the Iron Shepherds."
Jester trembled and tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh shit, that's not good. It sounded like someone heard him maybe and hit him maybe and he said 'Forgive me, Master Jagentoth.' He's going to that place? This is really, really bad." She hugged herself.
Fjord wrapped an arm around her. "It's ok, Jes."
"It's really not, though!"
Caduceus tilted his head to the side. "But we cleaned them out. There shouldn't be any more Iron Shepherds."
"Yeah, we slaughtered them!" Nott exclaimed and threw her hands in the air. "It was glorious."
"Unless the Jagentoths got new ones," Beau added.
Nott let her hands fall to her side. "Well, fuck."
"I'm just saying, maybe the demand for slaves is still there. And they've already got Gustav calling them 'master'. That poor noodle-armed circus boy won't last long if that's the case."
"Now," Fjord rubbed Jester's back. "We don't know that. Let's stay positive, here. We know he's alive, we know where he's goin', and we know who's got him."
Caleb nodded. "Ja, this is very useful information. Und we have an ally there in Miss Mardun. Perhaps we may get some assistance from her."
"See? It's ok, Jester. Plus, we're a shitton stronger than we were back then and so far we got the drop on these motherfuckers."
She sniffed and nodded. "They hurt Gustav who is a sweet, squishy, noodle-boy. It would make me feel a lot better if we stomped them good."
Caduceus rubbed his hands together absently. "How about you, Yasha? This is making you real anxious."
"It is, yes," she agreed and folded her arms. "I would like to crush them."
Nott nodded. "Me, too. When did they leave Nicodranas?"
"I'll ask Moma."
"Before you do, let's talk logistics, get all our ducks lined up," Fjord advised. "We leave Zadash tonight we can be there in a couple weeks, right?"
Beau cracked her neck. "Might be too late."
"Thank you, Miss Sunshine."
"What? I'm being realistic. We might not catch them."
Caleb shook his head. "If we were to arrive before they do, we might also pass them along the route and alert them to our presence."
"Not if we ride at night!" Nott grinned. "I say we get horses, all of us, and ride like the wind, all night! We can camp in your bubble during the day, Caleb. They'll never see us that way."
Beau rubbed her chin. "That's a pretty dope plan, Nott. I like it."
Caleb nodded. "If one of you keeps a little light, Caduceus and I may follow that."
The Mighty Nein met each other's eyes and nodded.
Fjord slapped his knee. "Well shit, let's go rescue us a noodle-boy!"
Jester Lavorre closed her eyes and cast the last of the spells she could manage for the day, sending a message back to her mother.
We know him! Messaged. Received his reply. He is alive. We know where he is going. We will rescue him. Two or three week journey.
What wonderful news! Please be safe, my little Sapphire. If there's any more news, please let me know. I will relay it. I love you.
.x.
Molly hadn't left his apartment very often after Marion demanded he get cleaned up as he struggled with detoxing, taking the medicinal tea that Emerald help him get at the apothecary and sweating out the remaining poison from his system. He hadn't felt well enough to visit the park, but had called on Lily and Poppy and learned more about the night at the club. It was a relief to learn he'd not been in his right mind, but getting confirmation that Gustav had seen him with Sinamon was a tough blow. Molly gave his thanks to his friends for helping him, went home and crawled into bed.
On the morning of the seventeenth day of Gustav's disappearance, he awoke early, and even though he was tired and could have lounged for several more hours, the bed felt cold and empty. His heart ached, but the thin wisp of hope that Marion gave him helped tamp down the panic. He got up, made his tea, and put a chair in the open doorway as he and Gustav had done together in happier times. He watched people and seagulls and listened to the city as it geared up for another day. When the messenger approached the door, she was surprised to see the demure tiefling with the ponytail wearing a long, flowing, pink day-dress calmly sipping tea and wondered if she had the right house. "Message for Moliggan Brightside?" she said, reading the note as she had been instructed to do. "Good news, come see me. Marion."
.x.
"He's alive," Molly breathed. He sat on a plush chair in Marion Lavorre's parlour, elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists, and palms pressed to his forehead between the base of his horns. His tears fell freely onto his lap. She knelt in front of him and put her slender hands on his arms, gently coaxing him into a hug. Molly slumped against her and sniffled into her hair for several moments as she pet him. When he pulled back, she took her own seat and held his hand over the lunch table over which they had spent countless hours sharing meals and playing every card game they could get their hands on. Molly heaved a huge sigh of relief. He smiled through his tears at his friend. "Thank you so much!" he said.
"You shouldn't thank me," she said, pouring him a cup of tea. "You should thank Jester. She said that she knows him as well, can you believe it?"
"Who's Jester?"
Marion finished pouring her own cup and quickly brought it to her lips. "My friend," she said, and raised a brow at the man across from her. "Actually, can you keep a secret?"
"I would do anything for you," he replied as he wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.
The Ruby of the Sea smiled softly. "She's not only my friend, she's my daughter."
A slow, surprised grin spread across Molly's face. "You are not old enough to have a daughter!"
She laughed, appreciatively. "I was very young, but I am."
Molly took a sip of the fragrant, flowery tea and shook his head. "That's amazing. What does she look like?"
"She is blue in coloring and cute as a button."
"How old is she?"
"She will be twenty, soon. She had to leave me quite suddenly more than a year ago. She was...mischievous...and got herself in some trouble with powerful people here, but I do get to see her from time to time, and she messages me as you know."
"A beautiful little girl out in the world by herself, oh Mer, it must have killed you."
She nodded, brows knitted together for a moment. "I worry, as mothers do, but not so much. She found strong friends, and she is no slouch herself. They protect each other."
Molly raised the glass to take another sip and stopped. "A blue tiefling girl who knows Gustav…" he whispered and leaned forward. "Uh, Marion. What kind of people are her friends, exactly?"
She smiled and went on to describe the half-orc called Fjord, a few human-looking folks called Beau, Yasha, and Caleb, a firbolg called Caduceus, and a little goblin girl called Nott. With that last description Molly's jaw hung open and he laughed, confusing his friend.
It was only fair, after she had told him her secret, that he share his, and so Molly told her about his past life and his association with the people called The Mighty Nein, how he had died at least twice and mysteriously come back to life. Marion was pensive for a while after the revelation, deeply moved to hear that he'd lost his life. She stared at his scars, especially the large one partially hidden by the low-cut neck of his sun dress. She reached a hand out and he let her gingerly tug the fabric down. "I don't know how I got it, but we figure it's what did me in," he said.
"Oh, Molly. I am so sorry." She leaned back and looked piteously on him.
He sipped the last of his tea. "Please, don't be. I'm alive. Gustav is alive. The Mighty Nein will rescue him and I will get to apologize to him. I get yet another chance to do better. I'm one lucky bastard!"
"If Jester messages again, shall I tell her—?"
"Please don't," he cut her off. "I didn't want them to know I was alive because I don't remember them. It would be too cruel. But now, they're going to bring Gustav back to me. I'll get to meet them and make friends from scratch."
Marion smiled. "Alright. Your secret is safe with me."
.x.
The air was pleasant and even a little cool with the spring sea breeze not yet in the throws of summer's humidity as Molly walked slowly down the sloping streets to the waterfront. His thin, leather sandals slapped against the cobblestones in a languid rhythm he could feel building in his soul. He swung his saz in its case to this rhythm and hummed lightly. He wore a jacket of deep emerald green dupioni silk that shimmered with mauve accents as the light caught the warp. Fine gold thread embroidery laced the cuffs and opening of the jacket and the back was adorned with a fan of peacock feathers, joined at the base with a sun and moon motif. A pair of women stopped him and had to ask where he got such a stunning piece.
"My husband made it for me," Molly said with a soft smile and directed them to Fletching & Fletching. He beamed with pride and strode on.
He pondered time. How it seemed to stretch while waiting, how it seemed to race when all you want to do is hold it close. Yesterday had been a good day—the first for many days, even weeks. Gustav was alive. Marion's friends would find him and bring him home, hopefully. Molly didn't want to place all of his hope so high. What if he were to be killed before he was rescued? That doubt nagged at him, preventing him from being entirely at ease.
Yesterday he learned a lot of things. Marion's 'friend' was her secret daughter who was one of the people he had traveled with—the legendary Mighty Nein that Gustav had told him so much about. The people who fought at his side and buried him high on the Glory Run Road nearly a year before. The ones who left him a kind note that he treasured more than anything else he owned.
Molly pondered the day before, and the day before that, and how much had changed, but a cloak of guilt and sadness still hung over his shoulders. A tune found its way into his head and he remembered a song Leo had taught him. He found his way to the park, to his favorite rock, put his little paper hat out and started to reconstruct the tune as best he could. After a few hours of playing it over and over again and muttering the lyrics he was sure he had it down.
Moliggan Brightside began to sing.
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
"Why he had to go, I don't know, he wouldn't say. I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.
"Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday..."
As Molly played, eyes closed, thinking only of Gustav, of wanting to protect him, to make amends, to go back to how they had been before everything fell apart, a crowd gathered. As he sang, their hearts swelled. When he had finished, he breathed a sigh, looked up, and was astonished to see roughly three dozen people standing in silence, some staring, some with heads bowed, all softly sobbing. They practically emptied their pockets into his paper hat. Some approached him and quietly thanked him. Others wandered away, rubbing their eyes, hugging themselves. Molly shuddered and sat there, hugging his instrument and wondering what happened for a long while afterwards.
.x.
As Molly played, Gustav dreamed.
Before him stood the house on the hill surrounded by deep, dark forest. He scrambled in a filthy pit just before it, dredging up mud with his bare hands and slapping it together to form a barricade between himself and his doom. Tears poured down his face and his hands were bloody and raw, but he pushed himself to work as quickly as he could. The wall was only a few feet high, and seemed to sink further into the muck with each addition.
"Yesterday..." his husband's voice lilted into the scene, velvety and soft, and suddenly he was there beside him. Molly placed a brick on top of the mud wall with one hand and troweled grout on top of it with the other. As he sang, he laid bricks and Gustav found when he turned back to his task that his hands held bricks as well. They worked together as Molly sang "I said something wrong now I long for yesterday."
By the time he'd finished his song, the job was complete—not just a wall, but a dome, strong and beautifully crafted, filled with light and warmth. Molly kissed his forehead, smiled sweetly and his image dispersed like smoke, leaving a faint trace of his perfume in his wake. Gustav curled up in the center of the dome and hugged himself.
When he woke, Gustav looked out at a muted world. His usually clear, soft brown eyes had turned grey. The skin on his face felt tight with dried tears, but he couldn't imagine why.