READY OR NOT - Landoscar

3 - I'm Gonna Find You

Lando slouched at a back table in the café, his coffee growing cold as he stared into the swirling dark liquid, lost in thought. He'd been on edge since morning, a persistent, prickling sensation creeping along his skin, as though unseen eyes were watching him. The nightmares hadn't let up—they were becoming more vivid, more insistent, each one like a tether dragging him closer to something ominous and unknown. Every night, the figure with the slicked-back hair and chilling eyes lingered longer, his silence deafening, his presence lingering even after Lando woke.

Max slid into the seat across from him, his usual carefree grin toned down to something more serious. Lando barely looked up, pretending to be absorbed in his coffee. But Max's gaze was sharp, probing, refusing to let him retreat into silence.

"Lando, we're worried about you," Max said, not bothering with pleasantries.

He was joined by Charles, George, and Alex, who sat down around the table, their faces carrying the same concern. Lando looked around at his friends, feeling a surge of gratitude mingled with a prickling frustration. He didn't want this attention, this worry—they wouldn't understand. How could they?

"I'm fine, guys," Lando said, putting on his best attempt at a reassuring smile, though it felt like a flimsy disguise. "Just... tired. I've got a lot on my mind, but I'm dealing with it."

George leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his intense gaze searching Lando's face. "This isn't just 'tired,' Lando. You've been zoning out more than usual, and you look... well, like you're being haunted by something. If something's going on, you can tell us."

Lando took a long, steadying breath, staring down at the table as he considered his response. George was always the blunt one, the type to cut through nonsense and get to the heart of things. And, in most cases, Lando appreciated that about him. But right now, it was grating, scraping against his nerves. He didn't want to bare his soul, not to them and certainly not to anyone who might try to "fix" him. He didn't need fixing—he just needed to figure things out on his own.

"Nothing's wrong, George," he replied, his tone a touch too defensive. "I just have a lot of coursework, and sleep's been... elusive, I guess."

Charles, ever the gentle one, reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Lando, we're not saying you need fixing. But it might help to talk to someone, you know? There are counsellors on campus. Sometimes just... saying what's in your head out loud helps lighten the load."

Lando pulled back slightly, breaking contact with Charles, his skin prickling as the words landed heavily in the air between them. He wasn't about to confide in a stranger, no matter how well-intentioned. The very idea made him feel vulnerable, like exposing a wound to air before it had a chance to heal.

Alex leaned in, his dark eyes thoughtful, his voice low and careful. "You're not alone in this, Lando. I mean, if talking to a counsellor isn't your thing, at least let us help you. We're your friends. We're here for you, whatever it is."

Lando's fingers tightened around his coffee cup, knuckles turning white as he struggled to rein in the frustration bubbling up. He knew they were only trying to help, but the more they pressed, the more trapped he felt, like they were boxing him into a corner. Couldn't they see that some things were better kept private?

He cleared his throat, his gaze distant, fixed on some point beyond them. "Look, I appreciate the concern. Really, I do. But I don't need... help. Not from counsellors, not from anyone. It's just a rough patch. It'll pass."

Silence settled over the table, a thick, tense pause that none of them seemed to know how to fill. Lando could feel their eyes on him, a mixture of worry and confusion, maybe even disappointment. Max opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it, as if thinking better of it.

Finally, Charles sighed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Alright, Lando. If that's how you feel. Just... promise us that if it gets worse, you'll let someone in. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

Lando's shoulders slumped, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him. He knew they meant well, that they were only looking out for him, but the weight of their concern felt like another burden he had to bear. He forced a nod, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

He could feel the tension ease, but it didn't bring any relief. Instead, a hollow emptiness settled in his chest, a sense that he was pulling further away from them, from everything that had once grounded him. They couldn't understand. They didn't know what it was like to be haunted, to feel as though the very fabric of reality was beginning to fray around the edges.

As they moved to other topics, laughing softly, sharing bits of gossip, Lando felt himself slipping away, his mind wandering back to the shadows that waited for him each night. He'd tried to shake them, to banish the stranger's image from his thoughts, but every time he closed his eyes, that face was there—silent, watchful, as though calling to him, beckoning him to come closer, to understand.

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing out the window. The sky had darkened with heavy clouds, casting a grey pallor over everything, making the world outside look washed out, dreamlike. A chill ran down his spine, as though he'd seen something in the glass, a flicker of movement, a shadow that didn't belong.

Max noticed him tense, his brows drawing together in quiet concern. "Hey, you alright?"

Lando forced himself to smile, shrugging. "Yeah. Just... thought I saw something. Must be the sleep deprivation."

Max nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. The others, thankfully, had turned back to their own conversation, giving Lando a moment's reprieve. But he could still feel Max's gaze, steady and unwavering, as if he were watching for the moment when Lando's mask would slip.

After a few minutes, Lando pushed his chair back, muttering something about needing fresh air. He could feel their eyes on him as he stood, an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders. But he didn't stop to explain, didn't look back. The café's warmth felt stifling and claustrophobic like he needed to escape.

Outside, the air was cold and damp, a sharp contrast to the thick warmth inside. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, letting the chill seep into his skin, grounding him. The campus grounds were nearly empty, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant footsteps. A thick fog had settled over the buildings, softening the harsh lines of brick and stone, making everything look ethereal, otherworldly.

Lando leaned against a nearby tree, closing his eyes as he took a deep, steadying breath. He could still feel the weight of his friends' concern, lingering like a spectre. They didn't understand, couldn't understand. The dreams had taken hold of him in a way he couldn't explain, weaving themselves into his reality, blurring the line between waking and sleep.

As he opened his eyes, the fog seemed to shift, coalescing into shapes that danced at the edge of his vision. He blinked, straining to focus, but the shapes dissolved into nothing, leaving only the grey mist swirling around him. His heart pounded, a visceral reminder that the nightmares were bleeding into his waking life, distorting his senses and his grip on reality.

I'm gonna find you, the thought whispered through his mind, insistent and chilling. 

He didn't know if it was his own voice or if it belonged to the stranger from his dreams, but the words filled him with a strange, dark resolve. Whatever was lurking in the shadows of his mind, whatever truth lay hidden in the stranger's silence—he would find it. He would face it, alone if he had to.

With one last glance at the fog-drenched campus, he pulled his coat tighter, setting his jaw. He didn't need help. He didn't need saving. This was his burden, his secret, and he would confront it on his own terms.

As he walked back toward the café, he felt the weight of the shadows lingering behind him, following him, patient and silent. But this time, he didn't try to push them away. Instead, he let them settle, let the darkness coil around him, a silent promise echoing in his heart.

He was ready, and he would find the answers that waited for him in the shadows—even if they came at a cost, he wasn't yet ready to pay.