READY OR NOT - Landoscar

20 - No More Games

Lando sat upright, breath frozen in his chest as Oscar lingered there on the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, unwavering. The words "Here I am" still resonated in the silent room, echoing with a weight that seemed to wrap around Lando's chest and squeeze. He could feel the depth of those words; the promise threaded between them, and beneath it all, the sense that this was no longer a game of dreams and fleeting glances. Oscar's presence felt raw, real, and too close for Lando to escape.

Oscar's eyes traced over him, studying every inch, his gaze almost clinical but laced with something else—something sharper, more deliberate. Lando felt bare, as though every thought, every flicker of doubt and hope was laid out before Oscar, tangible and open. For a moment, Lando wanted to look away, to pull himself out of the thick intensity pressing down around him. But Oscar wouldn't let him. There was no running, no hiding from whatever this connection was that bound them.

Oscar tilted his head, the soft light from the moon catching in his hair and making him appear almost ethereal, otherworldly. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held an ironclad resolve, something far older and darker than anything Lando had ever encountered. It felt like standing at the edge of a storm, caught between the safety of retreat and the terrifying pull to dive headfirst into the heart of it.

Lando drew a slow, trembling breath, forcing himself to break the silence. "Oscar..." he began, but his voice cracked, barely audible above the pulse pounding in his ears. Oscar's gaze sharpened, something flickering there, a hint of acknowledgement.

But he said nothing. 

Not yet.

Instead, Oscar reached forward slowly, his hand brushing against Lando's. His touch was cold, an unnatural chill that sent shivers racing down Lando's spine, yet he didn't pull away. There was a strange comfort in that coldness, a reminder that this was real, that Oscar was real. They sat like that for a moment, fingers barely touching, a silent exchange between them filled with questions that neither dared to voice.

Finally, Oscar's voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. "No more games," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air, laden with a finality that left no room for doubt. His tone was steady and commanding, yet there was an undercurrent of something more—a trace of vulnerability that slipped through, so subtle that Lando nearly missed it. "This isn't some fleeting dream or a half-formed memory. I am here, Lando."

Lando swallowed, the weight of Oscar's words settling into his chest, stirring something deep within him. No more games. He realised, with a clarity that left him breathless, that this was the moment he'd been dreading and yearning for, the moment when he could no longer pretend this was a mere figment of his imagination. The boundaries between dream and reality had shattered, leaving only Oscar and the truth he brought with him.

The silence stretched on, thick and charged, as if the room itself were holding its breath, waiting. Lando's thoughts spun in a chaotic mess, questions burning on his tongue, but none of them felt adequate to address the magnitude of what was unfolding. He wanted answers and explanations, but above all, he wanted to understand the pull Oscar had on him, a gravity that seemed to draw him deeper, even as fear coiled in his stomach.

Oscar's gaze softened ever so slightly, and he reached up, fingers tracing the line of Lando's jaw, a feather-light touch that left a trail of icy fire in its wake. "You feel it too," Oscar murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile tension between them. "This... connection. It's not something you can ignore, no matter how much you try. I can feel it, just as you do."

Lando's breath hitched, the admission hanging between them, undeniable. He'd spent countless nights trying to escape the dreams, trying to convince himself that Oscar was nothing more than an illusion, a haunting fragment of his subconscious. But now, with Oscar here, real and solid before him, he couldn't deny the truth. It was as if Oscar had become woven into the fabric of his being, an inescapable part of himself that refused to be ignored.

"What... what are you?" Lando finally managed, his voice barely a whisper, the question spilling from his lips before he could stop it. He knew the tales, the whispered legends of Oscar Jack Piastri, the vampire who had lived in shadows, hidden from the world. But hearing it from Oscar's own lips, confirming the reality, felt like stepping into a dark, twisted fairytale.

Oscar's expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something ancient and weary in his eyes. "I am exactly what you believe me to be," he replied, his voice laced with both resignation and acceptance. "A creature born of darkness, sustained by it. But that darkness doesn't define me—not entirely. I am here, in this moment, because I chose to be."

The words lingered, their weight pressing down on Lando, drawing him closer to a truth that both frightened and intrigued him. There was a vulnerability in Oscar's gaze, a rawness that hinted at a pain Lando couldn't begin to fathom. It was a reminder that Oscar, for all his mystery and allure, carried his own burdens, scars that had shaped him into the figure sitting before him.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Lando reached out, his hand resting on Oscar's. The touch was grounding, a silent affirmation that he was here, that he was willing to face whatever this was, no matter the cost. For a moment, they sat in that quiet stillness, the air between them thick with unspoken promises and the faintest glimmer of hope.

Oscar's gaze softened, and his lips curved into a faint, almost sorrowful smile. "There are no more games, Lando," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "No more illusions. Whatever lies ahead... it's real. As real as you and... I."

In that instant, Lando felt a shift, a subtle yet profound understanding settling within him. There was no going back, no retreating to the safety of ignorance. He had crossed the threshold and stepped into the shadows where Oscar lived, and there was no escaping the path that lay before him.

They sat together in the dim light, two souls bound by fate and circumstance, each one holding secrets that could either save or destroy them. And as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a soft glow into the room, Lando felt the stirrings of something he hadn't dared to hope for—a chance at understanding, a chance at something more than the darkness that had once seemed so impenetrable.

In that quiet, fragile moment, he knew there was no turning back.