Chapter one

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Cw: minor violence, implied stalking, drugging, forced platonic affection

(A/N This chapter is the exact copy of the oneshot from "Trinket Box")

Enjoy!

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"Wow...so this is the place then...." the driver passes the gates and parks right in the front yard between all the other shining cars that cost more than your whole apartment.
People get out of their vehicles, dressed in fancy clothes. They and their servants carry piles of presents- huge boxes wrapped in glittery paper, all with a big bow on the top.

You are approached right after stepping out of the car. "[Name][Surname]?" The person with a microphone head piece asks you in a serious tone, to which you nod.
"Please follow the path through the back door. Your performance starts soon."

You do just that and after some slightly awkward walking around and nearly getting lost in the confusing halls and many rooms of the mansion, you find your destination. The room has mirrors, clothing racks, technical equipment and different show props. The room is full of different people-performers and entertainers with years of experience on their back. It ranges from clowns to magicians to alpaca trainers. The question of as to why you are here, rises up in your head again. You were just a simple musician. An amateur at best, someone who had to play on the streets after work to pay your rent.

In the corner of the room you see the familiar man.

Philza Craft was his name. He had introduced himself to you a week ago, after he had listened to you play the guitar on the bridge for nearly an hour. He came up to you when you were about to leave and started a conversation with you. He praised your music, asked you innocent questions about your life and in the end he made a proposition to you.

"My son Tommy celebrates his birthday next week. He really wanted to have some life music playing during the party, but we had a few complications with that. How would you feel about performing at our house for a good payment?", he said. Back then it made you chuckle a little.

Entertaining a bunch of small children on the weekend? Yeah no, you weren't sure about that.

Or at least you weren't too sure about it until freshly printed green bills started dropping into your empty guitar case. Philza just smiled at you and casually gave you one banknote after the other, not stopping until you agreed to pay little Tommy a visit.

And now you were here. Meeting the man's gaze you adjust the strap on your guitar and come up to him.

"Ah [Name]. It's good to see you, how was the ride?" His expression is cam and friendly, but his overall stature emits an important and confident nature. Someone to respect and take seriously.

"It was...good, very much so. Thank you for...sending a car to come and pick me up. You really shouldn't have, Mr. Craft." You answer, to stay polite. You were grateful to not had to have to take the bus and drive multiple hours to this place. But the black car with two men in suits pulling up to your house to pick you up, sure scared you at first.

Somehow that uneasiness remained in the current present.

"Good, good. Well, this is the room where you can get ready quickly. I'm sure that Tommy and all his friends will love your performance. And oh- it's just Phil for you. No need for formalities with friends."

Your lips curl into an awkward smile as the man you saw for the second time only called you his friend. But maybe it was just his way of being friendly?

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