Work Text:
You don’t recall drifting off; until you realize you can’t move.
Sleep paralysis had made its entrance once more, beginning like any other night. An invisible weight pressing onto your chest, making breathing a laborious task. A thick, tangible silence engulfing the entire room like the world was suffocating itself. Your own body lies traitorously sedentary while your mind thrashes like a caged feral animal. However, tonight somehow feels different.
This time, you’re not alone.
A wisp of movement sweeps the edge of your vision, shifting to a dark corner, where the moon’s beam doesn’t reach. You attempt to turn your head, blink, wiggle a finger, all your endeavors in vain. You are pinned, only able to watch with wide, petrified eyes at the foreboding figure in front of you.
At first glance, it appears to be a silhouette. Tall, motionless, and pitch black, shaped more like an apparition rather than a human that seemingly manifested out of thin air. Then a gleam of flashing car lights passes by, illuminating the faintest sliver of a mask. Stark white with intricate traces of red embellished in ritualistic patterns across the front and jawline. Three parallel slits on either side where a pair of eyes are meant to be. The intimidating sight causes your blood to freeze and your heart stops.
Vessel.
Not the famous singer who glows under multi-colored stage lights, glistening with sweat that peels away the charcoal paint covering every inch of his pale flesh, tossing his soul out to the crowd of worshippers after every ritual. This version of Vessel is larger, proximate, an inhuman entity concealed behind a familiar facade. He looks exactly the same as the image your mind clings to while slipping into repose; except now he’s much too real and vivid to simply be a figment of one’s fantasies. A god’s emissary misplaced in your bedroom.
Vessel slants his head. You try to scream but your throat refuses to obey. He takes a few deliberate, slow strides towards you, his bare feet soundless against the floorboards as if he were floating. His cape, which you can see is decorated with crow’s feathers, swishes and flows around him like a cloud of dust.
He lifts a hand. Slender fingers, stained onyx, and adorned with silver rings, carefully extending. Pins and needles prickle your arms and legs, brain imploring you to flee from the potential danger, yet your body doesn’t heed.
Vessel retracts, a near imperceptible flicker of concern filtering past the visor. He crouches next to the bed and you feel the mattress dip from his mass. You can feel his gaze drilling into you as he watches intently. Then, a voice echoes. Low, resonant, and reverberating, similar to a priest’s sermon inside a cathedral:
“Breathe.”
On instinct, oxygen quickly travels to your searing lungs in a shuddering, drawn-out gasp. Vessel’s veiled face is inches from yours, close enough to where you can hear him exhale. He leans back a bit, providing you with a futile amount of space.
“You can see me,” he murmurs, more of a statement than a question.
You’re unable to respond or even nod your head, conveying panic through bulging orbs.
“I do not wish to alarm you.”
Vessel does his best to reassure you, keeping his tone gentle and steady. Your fight or flight reflexes start eroding, though your heart continues to thump at a rapid pace. He tips his head to the side again, examining your features like an unread scripture. A mysterious puzzle he’s trying to decipher.
“You oscillate between dormancy and sentience,” Vessel declares. “Such a cruel punishment. Mortals were not meant to taste their incapacity so harshly.”
His accent is of British descent, one you’ve only heard during brief interviews and distant concert recordings. Here, in the complete quiet of your quarters, it’s personal and intimate. Far too much for your immobilized form to handle. Vessel hovers above your arm, not quite touching, but you can feel heat radiating off of him.
“May I?”
The uncertainty of what he’s requesting muddles you. Is it consent, acquiescence, or blind trust? Your pulse stutters sharply to which he must interpret as permission when his fingertips graze your forearm. A jolt of electricity shocks your system and you can’t determine whether it’s due to fear, adrenaline, or a more foreign sensation.
“I tend to forget how fragile you humans are,” Vessel purrs. The box springs squeak as he shifts again, folding his fists in his lap in a strangely polite manner. “You invited me, you know,” he continues. “Perhaps not in the waking world–however, you have lurked in dreams that blur the line of reality, singing my name in restless thoughts, reaching out to me without fathom.”
His conclusion perplexes you beyond comprehension and you’d deny it if possible. Telling him he has the wrong individual, that you only ever listened to his music or admired him from afar, wondering how his presence would feel. Despite your best efforts, your lips remain sealed. Vessel acts as if he can somehow read your mind.
“You needn’t be afraid of me.” His head bows, fists intertwined in a praying posture. “I mean you no harm.” Vessel brings a hand to your cheek, stopping just shy of contact. “I’m here because you are lonely.”
The words hit you like a submergence into arctic waters. Lonely? You want to flinch, laugh, cry, display any sort of reaction. Instead, your body trembles in tiny, involuntary spasms. Vessel’s tone softens, the way one approaches cornered prey.
“I am bound to those who seek without realizing.”
His thumb strokes your cheekbone, light as a feather, so delicate that your trepidation fractures under something else entirely.
Comfort.
Vessel leans closer, head angled slightly like he’s analyzing your expression.
“I am not the monster fated to devour you. Think of me as an observer.”
That last term should make your skin crawl, but instead it feels…grounding. Anchoring you to the root of your very existence. Your muscles finally twitch, a victorious prospect of movement. Vessel takes notice and teases a half smile.
“Good. Your spirit is finding its way back to your physical form.”
You hear fabric rustling as he rises to his full height, so statuesque that his looming vestige casts over you. You’re now realizing just how giant this man–or rather cryptid–truly is. Taking a minute to scan his frame from top to bottom, he’s actually quite enchanting. Perfectly carved out of marble by Greek Gods. You’re admittedly mesmerized, imbued with a cautious curiosity to explore the significance of his essence below the surface.
“When morning arrives, you will remember this encounter as nothing more than a canonic hallucination.”
Vessel takes a single step backwards, indicating his departure. Your pupils go wild, desperate to tell him to wait. A myriad of unanswered questions are still gnawing away at you. By the grace of something holy, you manage to raise a finger, causing him to pause in his tracks. A small noise claws its way out of your throat, hoping his ears will register it. He presses two digits to your lips, shushing you.
“Do not strain,” he warns. “Your consciousness has not completely settled yet.” Vessel removes his hand and you swallow thickly, the ghost of his touch lingering.
“Why…?” Talking feels like scraping nails, your voice hoarse and weak. “Why me?”
He hesitates for a beat then replies earnestly.
“Because you sought me out.”
Your breath hitches.
“But I never-”
He raises a hand, interrupting your objection and your mouth clamps shut on command.
“For many nights, you have stood upon the precipice of illusion and reality. Brushing the divide when your mind wanders. My visual haunts you and your reveries collide with my spirit, uttering my name into the darkness.”
Blush creeps up your neck in embarrassment, confirming that he can essentially read your thoughts. You pray you didn’t accidentally conjure up an inappropriate scenario at any point.
“You are not a burden, nor are you cursed. I find you quite…enthralling.”
A normal person would probably freak out at the idea of a sleep paralysis demon describing them as ‘enthralling.’ Instead it sends a flutter through your stomach, tingly and inviting. Vessel’s head inclines deductively.
“You are no longer afraid.”
His proclamation rings true. The vicious clutches of your dread and anxiety finally relinquished their grip, allowing a minimal amount of control to return to your movements. Vessel steps backward, shadows enveloping him like a welcome embrace.
“I shall see you soon.”
A dull ache blooms in your chest hearing his farewell. You’re finding his company pleasant and don’t want him to leave. Suppressing your selfishness, you give him an affirmative nod. He stops in the corner where he first appeared, already half-vanished like dissipating smoke. As he fades, one final word slips past his lips;
“Awake.”
Gasping loudly, your body jerks upright, causing mild whiplash. Your chest heaves and perspiration beads along your temples, fists trembling against rumpled sheets. Your eyes dart everywhere frantically searching for Vessel. He was gone. You exhale shakily, dragging a palm down your face.
Yanking the covers off, you shuffle out of bed and trudge into the bathroom, flicking on the dim himalayan salt lamp adjacent to the sink. You splash cold water onto your face before staring at your reflection in the mirror. Hair a rat’s nest, complexion deathly pallid, and scleras bloodshot from exhaustion.
What the hell just happened?
***
3 days pass bearing no sign of Vessel, much to your dismay. Has he forgotten? Is he okay? Did he attach himself to another human suffering from the same condition? These questions burned in the back of your psyche like embers in the earth.
Even so, you continuously fail to prevent your mind from roaming to snippets of him. That mask, those hands, the inconceivable warmth they emitted. The way he spoke so eloquently with a cautionary approach to lessen your apprehension which wound up unraveling into an unexplainable emotion under his scrutiny. Every aspect of his mystical aura left you speechless.
By the time you climb into bed, the clock ceases as if pending a cue. Your foot bounces in anticipation, but nothing occurs. With a disappointed groan, you turn over and bury your face into the pillow.
What did I expect? He’s not coming back. None of that was real. I should’ve known better…
All your crestfallen ruminations seep out in the form of tears as you quietly weep. You’re tired of being alone, feeling misunderstood, sick of your pleas for a change being met with silence. When you’re finally plunged into the realm of sleep, the familiar stasis clamps down, locking your limbs and cementing your bones. Although your eyes, sore and swollen from crying, are fixed on the ceiling you can feel an energy stirring beside you. A ripple of shadow gathering in your peripheral like a blot of ink spilling onto paper.
“Vessel?”
Miraculously you’re able to speak and he responds instantly, the ivory visage emerging from the umbra surrounding him. Your body is flooded with relief. It feels as if he’s been expecting you. His demeanor seems different than before and you’re fairly certain his brows are creased in perturbation through the veneer. Vessel extends an arm, thumb trailing gingerly across your cheek, tracing the residual patterns of your dried tears.
“Oh dear. You have lamented in my absence.” His voice is laden with sympathy and remorse, suddenly making you feel terrible.
“I just missed you,” you do your best to reassure him but he merely shakes his head.
“I’m so sorry.” He fits the pad of your hand in his and places it against his skull, hanging in shame. “Forgive me.”
Barbed wire squeezes at your heart and nausea roils in your stomach hearing Vessel’s sincere apology. You didn’t mean to guilt trip him; you were simply being honest.
“It’s okay. Really,” you whisper tenderly, wishing with all your strength that you could move.
When Vessel looks at you again, the air vibrates faintly, static crackling through a hidden dimension.
“The threshold is beginning to falter,” he says almost casually.
His fingertips gracefully glide along your knuckles and wrist, testing the waters.
“Terror no longer grips your soul when you see me. It has been replaced by something more–fond in nature.”
A distinct warmth spreads inside your gut, stoking the flames of a fire. You shouldn’t be feeling butterflies for a phantom creature. Deep down, you know it’s wrong…yet why does it feel so right?
“What threshold? Am I dying?” you ask worriedly.
Vessel lets out an amused chuckle, his calloused thumb rubbing your lower lip.
“You are not dying, my dear. Merely fracturing the barrier between worlds.”
You blink in confusion, not fully understanding but trusting him anyway. He’s proven himself to be harmless and protective rather than hostile. A rare breed for a supposed demonic specimen.
Gradually, your incapacitation begins to wane and you’re able to wiggle your digits. Vessel cracks a prideful pearly smile at this. He cups your jaw then pulls your face toward his, the gesture catching you off guard and making you gasp.
“Fascinating. You no longer perceive me as a threat,” he explains, caressing your chin the way a collector admires a China doll.
“I want to show you more.”
He stands but doesn’t step away, outstretching his palm for you to take. Trembling and barely mobile, you reach up and grab onto him. The second your skin meets, the room dissolves like paint being poured into water. Black tendrils sprout from where your fingers connected, the ceiling melts to hazy fog, and the walls collapse into a starlit dome.
The shackles restraining you finally snap and you can draw a full breath now. At last, you’re free. Vessel stands before you in the infinite void, holding you steady.
“What. Just. Happened?”
There’s no surface beneath your feet, yet you’re not falling to your doom. Vessel is the only point of clarity in the vast shroud and when you stare up at him, that satisfied smile remains ever-present. He’s remarkably even more divine at a close range and smells like heaven.
“Welcome to the realm of Sleep.”
You’re certain you must look like a deer in headlights, but you feel oddly at peace for the first time in years. No longer tormented by harsh truths and endless curveballs hurled at you from all directions.
“Will I be stuck here forever?”
Vessel shakes his head calmly.
“That choice depends on you, darling.”
Your pulse jolts at the nickname and you’re thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t see your flushed cheeks. He tilts your chin up, careful and reverent, but undeniably affectionate.
“Just as I expected. Even doused in obscurity, you’re a luminous gem.”
Nothing could’ve prepared you for this moment and you’re suddenly walking on clouds, gravity nonexistent. Vessel has just called you beautiful using the same poetic, evocative style he writes his lyrics in and you’re unsure how to react. You feel honored, flattered, and undeserving all at once, so inundated with emotion that your knees wobble.
“You wish to see more of me,” he says, verbalizing your inner musings.
It’s true–you were always curious about the beholder behind the guise, but you also wanted to respect his privacy and preference for anonymity. The fact that he’s become so comfortable around you, trusting you enough to divulge such a sacred part of him is unreal.
Vessel taps the mask twice. “Go ahead.”
He stays still, patiently waiting, seemingly as uncertain as you are. Hesitantly, you reach up and hook both thumbs under the rim of the porcelain. He swallows hard, visibly nervous.
You slowly lift the piece, exposing the bottom half of his face. The curve of his mouth, a pair of soft full lips, the quivering breath that rattles him when you run your fingers over his flawless ebony skin. You pause, allowing him a few seconds to process.
“Keep going,” he mumbles.
Your heart skips a beat as you continue to remove the material by another inch. A twin set of 3 slanted, golden glowing hues are revealed and you’re completely hypnotized by his sheer beauty. Seeing Vessel in such a vulnerable, bare state doesn’t hold a candle to how you envisioned him behind the curtain. He’s beyond magnificent, so angelic that you feel you’ve been caught in a trance.
You lower the mask again and he exhales shakily as if he’d been bating breath. His dexterous hand slithers to your nape, supporting it.
“You wish to stay, don’t you?”
Your throat clenches, rendering you speechless and you’re convinced you’re having some sort of medical emergency. Vessel ropes an arm around your waist, bracing you as the void swells and contracts like a live vein. You latch onto the outline of his cloak and whisper a-
“Please.”
Vessel nods then encases you in a hug, cradling your head to his chest. You sigh pleasantly with a smile, letting your body relax against him. Back home you were miserable, isolated, trapped in a brutal cycle. There was nothing and nobody to return to. Here, you feel seen, heard, and cherished. No way in hell are you willing to recede to a normal life after that.
“Rest, little mortal. You are safe now.”