READY OR NOT - Landoscar

22 - You Can't Escape Me

The crisp autumn air wrapped around Lando as he walked through the bustling streets, the sun casting dappled patterns of gold and shadow on the ground beneath his feet. He could hear the distant laughter of students mingling with the rustle of leaves, the world alive with the vibrant energy of young people eager to embrace the day. But despite the lively atmosphere, a strange heaviness lingered in Lando's chest, a bittersweet reminder of the night before.

As he approached the café where he usually met his friends, he felt a familiar presence at his side. Oscar walked closely, the ethereal glow about him subtly shimmering in the daylight, yet somehow he remained a shadow in the periphery of reality. Lando stole a glance at Oscar, captivated by the way the light caught the angles of his face, the way his caramel-brown eyes seemed to hold ancient wisdom and profound sadness all at once. Yet, as they walked together, an unspoken tension hung between them—an awareness that, while Oscar was with him, he existed in a world that was, by all accounts, separate.

When Lando reached the outdoor tables where his friends sat chatting animatedly, he felt a flutter of excitement. Max's hearty laugh echoed through the air, and Charles animatedly waved his arms, clearly deep in the throes of a story. George and Alex were leaning in, eyes wide with intrigue, hanging on every word. The sight of them, familiar and comforting, brought a smile to Lando's face. This was his sanctuary, his refuge from the weight of dreams and shadows.

"Hey, Lando! Over here!" Max shouted, motioning for him to join them. Lando's heart warmed at the sight of his friends, their laughter weaving a tapestry of camaraderie that felt like home. He waved back, moving toward the table, the sound of their banter wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

"What's going on?" Lando asked as he slid into a seat beside Charles. He was eager to engage, to be swept away by the rhythm of their conversations, the normalcy of their lives.

But as Lando laughed and responded to their jokes, a part of him felt the disconnect with Oscar lingering just a few steps behind. He glanced over his shoulder, but Oscar was still standing there, a few paces away, seemingly lost in thought.

"I'm glad you made it, Lando! You missed some epic gossip!" George chimed in, nudging him playfully. The lively chatter continued, stories unfolding like petals opening to the sun, drawing Lando in further, distracting him from the world beyond the table.

As the conversation flowed, Lando found himself swept up in the easy laughter and shared stories, feeling the stress of university life dissipate. He was almost ready to forget everything else, to forget the dreams, the haunting presence of Oscar that had gripped him since the moment he had appeared in his life.

But amidst the clamour of voices, Oscar stood rooted in place, his expression shifting from curiosity to melancholy. He looked down at his hands, fingers lightly brushing over the rough wooden surface of a nearby picnic table, the sunlight illuminating the pale skin that somehow seemed out of place in the world around him.

"They can't see me," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "I'm... not real." His voice was soft, filled with an ethereal quality that Lando, in his distracted state, failed to notice. The weight of the words hung in the air, heavy with unfulfilled longing and sadness, a truth that cut deeper than any blade.

Oscar felt the ache of isolation settles in his chest. Even here, amid laughter and friendship, he remained an observer, a phantom on the edges of Lando's life. He wanted to reach out, to be part of this world that felt so alive, to join in the joy and the simplicity of companionship. But he was tethered to a realm that kept him apart, trapped between the flickering memories of what once was and the elusive promise of what could be.