READY OR NOT - Landoscar

15 - You Can't Shake Me

Lando stepped out of the long shadows cast by the streetlamps, his footsteps echoing softly along the empty sidewalk as he approached his building. The night was cold, and a low mist curled around his ankles, clinging to his every step, making each movement feel weighted, deliberate, like a silent ritual he was following without realising it. He glanced over his shoulder before entering, but the street behind him was still, vacant, a world bathed in silver and shadow. Yet, somehow, he felt watched.

Closing the door behind him, Lando exhaled, letting the stale warmth of the building wrap around him, though it did little to ease the chill prickling his skin. He took the stairs slowly, each step an effort as though a weight pressed against him, anchoring him to the moment, to the promise of what was to come. Oscar's presence felt nearer tonight, as if the boundary between them was wearing thin, just a whisper away from breaking.

In his room, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it over his chair, his mind drifting to the warmth of his bed waiting for him, the slight comfort it might offer before sleep overtook him. Before Oscar overtook him, he went through the motions of his routine—splashes of water against his face, the mechanical brushing of his teeth—all automatic, distant. As he looked up, meeting his reflection in the mirror, he half-expected to see something unfamiliar, an image of himself altered by the constant grip Oscar seemed to hold on him. But his reflection was the same, though his eyes bore a haunted quality, the dark rings beneath them evidence of countless sleepless nights.

He tried to ignore the strange weight in his chest, the sensation that Oscar was pressing close, even here in the safety of his room, lingering just beyond his sight. His own hands trembled slightly as he reached for the bedside lamp, casting the room into a soft glow, muted, almost dreamlike.

Sliding into bed, he pulled the blanket over himself, tucking it close as if it could shield him from whatever waited on the other side of sleep. But he knew better—knew that once he closed his eyes, the dreams would find him, as they always did, dragging him into Oscar's world, binding him to a reality that felt increasingly more real than his waking life.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, but even in the darkness, Oscar's face loomed in his mind—those haunting, caramel-brown eyes, glinting with some hidden truth, some pain that seemed boundless. Oscar was a phantom, a shadow that clung to him, refusing to release its grip. Every dream left an imprint on him, as if Oscar's world was bleeding into his own, merging with the corners of his mind, spreading like ink through water.

Tonight, he knew, would be no different. Perhaps, in some way, he didn't want it to be.

As he lay there, he could almost feel the familiar weight of the forest air, the damp soil beneath his feet, and the whisper of the trees swaying in the darkness. He could almost feel Oscar's gaze, steady and unyielding, pulling him closer, binding him to a destiny he barely understood.

With a final, shaky breath, Lando let himself drift, sinking into the darkness that waited, knowing that he couldn't shake Oscar—not tonight, not ever.

Lando felt the familiar pull as he sank deeper into sleep, the world around him fading like the last light of dusk. Suddenly, the chill of the forest enveloped him, crisp and bracing, igniting a familiar sense of both fear and wonder. As his surroundings sharpened into focus, he found himself standing at the edge of the forest, the towering trees looming overhead, their gnarled branches twisting like fingers against the night sky. The moon hung high, a brilliant orb casting silver beams that illuminated the shadows, creating an ethereal landscape that felt almost sacred.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the faint rustle of creatures stirring in the underbrush filled the night with an otherworldly rhythm. He took a moment to absorb it all—the haunting beauty, the palpable tension in the air, and then he felt it: Oscar was near, his presence a magnetic force pulling Lando forward into the depths of the trees.