Work Text:
tw: violence, anxiety-inducing scenarios/description of anxiety attack- !please read tags and note above!
The bustling city life of London never failed to give George a headache. His 9 to 5 office job was immensely boring, and thus, also contributed to his raging headaches. It was boring in the mundane way that the days passed by.
The hours were long. George never found himself scraping to make rent, but he wasn’t particularly comfortable, either. The idea of a vacation getaway struck his mind one October evening. It failed to dissolve into a hopeless idea, only bloomed more as his co-workers abused his inability to say no.
His keyboard blinked back at him in the long evenings following his prolonged shifts. Searching for cheap, comfortable getaway proved difficult. The eerie night gleamed into his window, forcing him to consider an isolated area. George had been alone for most of his life. No pets or significant others lived with him, and his family hardly reached out. They had a falling out after his parent’s divorce, and his sister had no desire to rekindle their relationship.
Sighing, he searched into cabins. He was a small figure, but he knew the basic necessities of life. How to cook, live without power, build a fire outside, treat wounds. His mental preparation for the worst should have been his first red flag forthcoming his absence.
The next day, George filed his two week leave at the office. His inheritance he was gifted was well deserved in his eyes, himself being the only one to care for his grandmother after the divorce. He felt no emotional connection to Britain once his only relation inevitably died.
The two weeks also flew by. His mind raced, and the odd job of packing was done over the course of the week. Before he knew it, he was on a one-way flight to Canada.
Getting to the cabin was another story. The taxi would only take him so far, before dropping him off and describing the path as “undriveable.” The second red flag that George discreetly ignored, because when had roads ever been safe that were considered undriveable?
He carried two cases with him and a small backpack behind him. The website had described the cabin as “idyllic” and “solitary.” It was up for rent for however long George desired, the third and final red flag George ignored. He was colorblind, after all.
The first day went by steadily. He explored the cabin and surrounding area with caution. The cabin was a simple, two story complex with porches out front and back. There were two bedrooms and a living room of comfort. The kitchen was basic, but held all the essentials he needed. Finding himself was what he set out to do; his life needed purpose.
And purpose he would get.
Night fell quickly, the moon illuminating the kitchen as he worked at his dishes.
He walked up the road to another cabin, which offered groceries bi-weekly as described on the website. Hesitantly, George knocked on the door. An older woman appeared, and smiled meekly at him.
“You must be the new neighbor,” she said. “You’re much shorter than when I saw you walking in.”
George furrowed his brow. “Well, yes I am. I’m George, I have some money for the groceries, if that’s still an option.”
“Of course, I’ll bring them out to you. Just you wait here. I’m Catherine, by the way,” Catherine introduced herself. She shuffled away, leaving the door open a crack.
The path leading up to her house had been hardly visible. The bushes rustled behind him, causing him to whip around. Nothing was in sight, of course. A shiver ran down his spine, unknowingly due to a fear in him or the cold.
Catherine returned before he could think too much of it. Distracted, he handed her the money and left. Anxiety settled deep in his stomach as his walked up the road back to his new cabin home.
A few more noises to the side of him stopped him in his tracks. Fear traveled up his spine, as he continuously looked behind him. The feeling of someone watching him was inescapable.
Yet, he knew he was safe. Only he and Catherine had the key to the cabin. He hoped she was safe, anyways. He got into the cabin safely, even though his mind was spinning the whole journey. His safety was questionable regardless of who held the key to his residence.
The pit of fear settling in his stomach was ignored for the time being. Searching through the bags of groceries and food, he stocked the fridge and freezer with what belonged. A slight tap on the window interrupted the silence he worked in.
George apprehensively peered out the window. Nothing, again. Only the moon.
Returning to the task of restocking the cabinets, chills shook his body. He had always lived alone in his flat without companionship or fear of an intruder. This situation was different, for he wasn’t protected by the street lights and patrolling cop cars going up and down the neighborhood roads.
As unsettling as it was, George was content to be in the cabin on his sort-of vacation stay. Having a new place to himself with plenty of room to start a new routine.
Silence settled on the cabin. At last. George lit a candle and opened his journal to start his writing and documentation of the trip. Journaling was never his strong suit, but he was determined to do it now.
The cabin creaked throughout the night. Vanilla fumes filled the room’s air after George blew the candle out. Decidedly retiring for bed, he boiled the kettle to make himself a cup of tea.
Only then did he remember the odd feeling he had from earlier. Someone was providing him company, because he knew he wasn’t alone.
His cup of tea was left abandoned as he raced upstairs for his new bedroom. Looking out the window, darkness greeted him.
Alone, again.
The sun woke him up early the next morning.
Traveling down the stairs, he found his cold cup of tea empty. He must have drinken it last night after all.
The day went by fast, George busying himself with tasks throughout the day. Unpacking and eating. Going outside presented itself to be daunting even with the sun high in the sky. Even that didn’t protect him.
Night fell once more and George was seemingly alone.
Falling asleep at the T.V., George let himself go and relaxed for the first time that day. He forgot about his worries regarding a potential trespasser.
Even then, George woke up the next morning well and alive. Only, the television was shut off. He must have turned it off while he was dozing off.
Luckily for him, the front door was still locked and nothing else had changed. His mind was playing tricks on him simply because he was apprehensive to have such a drastic change of scenery.
The days went by for him, each morning one thing would change though. His clothes might be folded, a window would be closed, a glass of water left waiting for him.
Yet, he never remembered doing anything the night before. Perhaps he slept-walked and did things in his sleep. Maybe he just did things before bed sleepily so he would forget.
The tasks done in the morning became more advanced. His sleeping pattern remained the same though, and he was able to fall asleep even with the occasional rapping at the window. It was just a branch in the wind, or a bird, or an animal begging to come in.
Nothing scared him more than being watched. He was a shy, insecure individual who never thought highly of himself. George was the average worker and looked very average. Brown hair, brown eyes, standing at 5’8” and slightly leaner. Yet, George was extremely pretty. He didn’t see it himself, but the frequent staring from others should be a clue in itself. The stalker he had now could also be a clue.
George was unaware of the presence when he was cooking in the kitchen. It was the best time, since the large window opened up to view the front area. He could just see Catherine’s house, which stood eerily.
The most advanced alteration George woke up to was a breakfast made up for him. It was clearly fresh, steam rising from the eggs that had been scrambled. No dishes were out but it was his own plate. The smell of bacon lingered in the air as George looked around. Opening the door, George cautiously exited the cabin. A few steps forward and George was already aware he was being watched.
He hurried inside, rushing to lock the door behind him. His ragged breaths were unsteady. His chest shook as it rose and fell in respiration. “Fuck,” he muttered.
The pit in his stomach grew as night came. The sole sound filling the night was the tapping of his kitchen window. When he turned to glance at the source, a face stared back.
George jumped and instantly lost his breath. The frightening sight of a white mask staring back at him had his blood running from his face. He was shaking, searching for a weapon of any kind. He hid from the window as his hands ran over the various drawers and cabinets. No knives.
They were gone. Stolen.
Surely he hadn’t hid them in his sleep.
Fumbling in the darkness he searched the back room. The sound of the door’s knob being rattled scared him only more. His safety was threatened and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Vulnerability was his weakness. He wasn’t a big strong guy with any background of self defense, fighting, or exercising. He didn’t have much street smarts and had no idea what to do.
Nothing could have prepared him for this circumstance. Turning around once more, the masked figure was hovering above him in his own living room.
George screamed at the top of his lungs. His chest heaved and tightened as the figure reached forward and gripped his neck.
“I thought it was rude you hadn’t thanked me for my services yet,” the voice said deeply.
Sobs racked his body. “I-I’m so sorry, please,” George began. The tears streamed down his face.
“Stop crying, pretty boy. I’m only here to help.” The white plaster mask had two small holes where the eyes were, with a smile cut out at the bottom. The mask featured the sinister smile that taunted George. His grip on his neck loosened slightly once he realized George’s crying hadn’t come to an end. The intruder’s other hand traveled up his neck, his finger tracing George’s jaw.
“Please,” George silently begged. “What do you want… my money’s in the kitchen. I’ll show you exactly where it is, I can-”
“Silly boy! I’m not letting you go so soon. Please, tell me your name,” the intruder demanded.
“G-George,” he stammered.
“Don’t stutter. I prefer your accent to be as natural as possible.” The intruder stared into his eyes, searching George’s face for any signs of relaxation. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I can’t move…”
“I’ll help you.” The trespasser shoved George onto the couch and locked him in with both of his arms. He hovered over him and whispered into his ear, “You’re mine now.”
George’s body shook again. The thought of what might happen to him scared him. “Call me Dream,” the masked figure addressed himself. Said “Dream” was incredibly intimidating. He stood back to look at George’s frail body resting on the couch. Nothing in his body reacted to attempt to escape. Giving up easily, he noticed the height of Dream. He stood around 6’5” with a broad build. He was covered in all black, loose clothing. Gloves covered his large hands and black sneakers on his feet.
“Let me go over some rules, George,” Dream began. He paced in front of him. “You will not, under any circumstance, leave this cabin. Try to escape, you don’t want to know the consequences. I am much bigger in every way.”
George sobbed again, slapping a hand over his mouth to mute it. Dream ripped his hand away from his face. “You’re too pretty to be crying. Don’t, unless you’re begging for something,” he commented. The tears kept flowing. He was overwhelmed and had no idea what was going on. In ten minutes, someone invaded his house and was now dictating his whole life.
“We’ll create a routine together. Sleep together, cook meals, watch television and read if you want. I’m going to spoil you.”
At this, George was confused. He assumed Dream’s motive was riches, so he could easily ransom or steal his things. He could kill him or do anything he wanted. But to spoil him?
“I… I don’t understand,” George stammered.
“I’ve been watching you ever since you arrived. You see, I’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. You’re an angel sent to Earth and I must protect you,” Dream replied sternly.
“Surely you don’t see much…” George whispered. For an odd reason, he wasn't fearing for his life anymore. Sure, he was having an anxiety attack, but he was no longer scared like he was before.
Dream harshly grabbed George’s chin and forced him to make eye contact with him. “Now that attitude… I won’t stand for. Unless you’re under me or in bed, of course,” he winked.
“Please…” George begged. “I don’t want that at all…”
“And what about when you marry me? When I cook for you and spoil you? Live a life with me by your side, every day? Make love to you? Kiss you and leave marks?”
“Again,” George sobbed. “I really don’t want that. You can have all my money, anything, but not me. I don’t want to live my life just for you…”
“Not yet, you mean.”