Chapter Text
The band members were acting…off, in a way.
To most of the crew, they surely seemed like their usual selves, but working as closely as you had been with them since the start of the tour, you could tell something was weighing on them heavily. It was like a cloud of tension looming over them, a heavy anticipation for some unknown force at work, and it was damn near tangible enough that you had begun to feel it, too.
Something about the day was wrong, as well, but there was nothing that could be pinpointed to what exactly was throwing off the vibe. If anything, the day had started off rather normal, and all hands were on deck to set the stage for the ritual that was happening that night.
Being the Assistant Stage Manager, you took on the role of ensuring things ran smoothly as well as any minute things the Stage Manager couldn't cover on their own. From making sure the lights were working and set up properly to directing the crew where to place certain props and backdrops, everything was coming together rather smoothly, just like most times before.
It was as you were directing some of the crew to change out certain fixtures in the backdrop that you took notice of a jumble of tangled wiring leading out of some speakers. It was definitely a tripping hazard, one you couldn't help but roll your eyes at as you made to fix the issue.
“C’mon, guys, let's make sure we’re at least pushing any loose cables to the side for now, yeah? And neatly, if you please!”
You heard a few affirmatives from passing crew and even had a couple of the stagehands offer to help. You shooed them away politely by directing them to other minor jobs that needed doing before setting to work on untangling the cabling and winding it up neatly until a technician could properly fit it where it needed to go.
“Anyone ever tell you how hot it is when you're bossin’ others around? Because it's definitely got me going.”
You turned to look up and over your shoulder and blinked at the masked man standing behind you, hands on his hips and a grin in his words as he looked down at you.
While it was a bit of a surprise to have III out and about so early, his presence wasn't an unwelcome one. Honestly, you hadn't expected to see any of the band members before you were meant to give them a final run of the stage before the gates opened later that night. They liked to be part of the chaos, sometimes, and with the way their energy was almost cautiously amped, they must have felt fidgety having to wait around.
III was still dressed down in joggers and a hoodie, and he was donning one of his full-face fabric masks, as was custom for the band members if they decided to make any public appearance before the show, his bright eyes full of cheeky mirth.
Once it finally sank in what he had said to you, you raised a single brow in his direction, playing along.
“You tell that to all the other managers?”
“Only the special, hot-when-they’re-bossy ones,” he countered, and you could practically see his own brows doing a playful wiggle despite his face being completely covered.
A short, quick sigh left your lips, amusement and exasperation all rolled into one sound. You stood from your crouch at the speaker and turned to III, matching his stance with exaggerated force.
“Did you just come here to flirt shamelessly, or did you need something from me?”
“Can I say yes to all?”
He encroached into your space with a single long stride, being mindful of the other stagehands working around you both. While it wasn't necessarily a secret how the band was a little more personal with you, at least not to the usual lot of crew mates that had been with you since the start of the tour, you continued to at least try keeping things professional and courteous in front of everyone.
Try being the key word, as you found it was rather hard for certain individuals to keep their hands and words to themselves at all times.
So far, III had done an admirable job, but you knew it wouldn't last if you couldn't divert his attention elsewhere. He was already looking over you keenly as if trying to find a reason to touch you, and he quickly found it in the form of a folded piece of paper sticking out of your back pocket.
With a flourish, he twisted his lanky body to stand beside you and reached behind, giving your bum a light smack while simultaneously pulling the paper from its resting place to hide his actions behind feigned interest. It took all your willpower not to let out a surprised yelp from the contact, though your eyes were surely as wide as saucers
“What's this, then? Set list for tonight? Anything new going on?”
He unfolded the paper and gave it a glance, not really reading nor caring what it actually said, by the looks of it. You snatched the paper from his hand and gave him a stern look laced with amusement, smacking the back of his hand with the flimsy, folded sheet. He acted affronted, shaking his hand about as if the action had hurt him.
“You know better than I do if anything’s changed. And if there are any changes you need to make, I’m gonna suggest going to the Stage Manager, this time.”
“Aren't you our liaison?”
“Only to the nice, not-so-handsy band members, I’m afraid.”
“Boo, you're no fun,” he groaned, prying the list from your fingers gently before ever-so-kindly slipping it back into the same pocket he had pulled it from. He let his hand linger with the motion, full palm sliding up over your bum and across your hip as he began to pull away from you with a wink.
“Catch you later, then, sweet thing. Don't forget about me, now!”
And with that, he was off to spread his chaotic energy somewhere else before he would inevitably get called back to prepare for the evening. Your eyes followed him as he walked away until he disappeared from your view, unable to fully hide the smile that had lit up your face.
At least he seemed to be in good spirits, despite whatever weird energy was lingering about. You only hope the feeling would go away soon.
You continued your work around the stage for the next hour, checking up on the backline technicians to see where they were in setting up the instruments. The guitars and bass were in the process of being tuned, the Espera’s mics were set and ready, and a quick trip to the alcove where II’s drum kit had been set up showed that everything seemed to be in order. It was as you were about to step down that you noticed a free-standing wire just hanging over the arm of one of the symbols as if haphazardly placed there in a hurry.
“Again with the cables,” came your exasperated sigh, and you quickly set about trying to figure out where the damned thing had come from. Luckily, it was just a forgotten plug from one of the microphones, an easy enough fix that didn't warrant you having to track down someone else to have a look at it.
Carefully, you reached out and reconnected the wire where it needed to go, being mindful not to lean too hard into the set-up. As you straightened, you gave everything another glance-over and nodded to yourself, satisfied.
“Okay, seems to be in order! Should be ready for the final check later on, and -oh!”
You jumped, body nearly shivering at the gentle brush of a hand along your side, something that could have been perceived as unintentional, but it was anything but.
“S’cuse me, love,” came a gentle rumble from behind, and you knew instantly that II was the culprit. You followed the line of his sleeve-clad arm as he smoothly reached for a set of drumsticks that had been left out on one of the snares.
“Been looking for these,” he followed up, and you turned to him as he pulled back and gave the drumsticks a twist in his hand. Even being the shorter band member, his strong presence felt as if he were towering over you, and it was both comforting and intimidating to have him so close.
“Have you, now?” you questioned lightly, receiving a single nod to your query.
“Thought I’d lost ‘em.”
“Lucky that we have several spares for you, then.”
“Lucky, indeed.”
Your smile was warm and knowing, though you chose not to call him out. II knew how to play along better than the others, usually being the most subtle one out of the rest of his band mates. He knew how to pick and choose his moments, where and when the best opportunities lied in garnering your attention for a few brief moments.
Apparently, having you all by yourself in his assigned alcove was a perfect moment for just a little provocation, enough to catch you unaware and make your breath quicken at his teasing.
“Anything you need from me while I’m up here?” you asked as a way to ease the tension, though you realized too late that your words could, would, have been misconstrued.
II let his gaze slowly walk down then back up your form, a trail you could practically feel slide along your body. You shivered again, and his eyes lit up at the tiny movement. Had you been able to see beneath the mask, you could almost guarantee the half-smile on his lips, amused and pleased with your reaction to him.
“Not now. I think IV was looking for you, though.”
A way out. II and Vessel were particularly good at ensuring you had a way to escape, should you need it. Considering how overwhelming it could be having so much attention on you from four different men, it was wholly welcomed and incredibly endearing.
“Right, then, guess I should see what he’s needing. I’ll see you around final check?”
He gave another curt nod, stepping to the side to give you space to exit. As you made to squeeze by, however, he stopped you short with a gentle hand at the bend of your elbow. His gaze was startlingly intense, serious.
“You good?”
His question would have seemed out-of-the-blue on any other day, but you understood why he was asking, why he was showing concern.
With a soft, reassuring smile, you answered, “Yeah, I'm good. Business, as usual.”
II continued to stare you down, soft blue eyes flitting across your features as if trying to find any faults in your words. After a brief moment, he gave a short, rumbling hum of affirmation, satisfied, and pulled away from you completely.
“Off you go, then, love. See you for the final check.”
You gave him a soft smile as your farewell and made your way back down to stage level, looking up to find him also looking over his set-up while he was lingering. II noticed your gaze quickly and raised his drumsticks in your direction, giving them a little flick to the side as a way to tell you to move along. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics and continued to walk backstage, set on finding the Stage Manager to update them on completed tasks before making your way to IV.
It was as you were about to approach the manager, who seemed to be giving a couple of crew members directions on something or other, that you saw the guitarist coming in hot from out of nowhere. He was keenly focused on you, blue eyes intense through his mask and stride steady. He was the picture of no-nonsense, which wasn't like him so early on in the day, or very often at all, for that matter.
For a brief moment, you worried that something was wrong, redirecting yourself to meet him in the middle and get to the bottom of whatever was concerning him.
“Hey, IV, is everything-”
“Sorry about this, angel,” he interrupted, his rasping voice just on the side of agitated, “but I need it.”
Your brows furrowed, confused, until IV suddenly and without warning reached both arms around you and pulled you to him, sliding both hands into your back pockets. You were just able to stifle a surprised shout against his chest, too shocked beyond words to question what was going on as you felt his fingers wiggle and shift within the stretchy cotton pockets from one side to the other. He wasn't grabbing at you like you first initially thought he was trying to do, fingers not even coming together to give your backside a little pinch as III often did.
Weirdly enough, IV was letting you go almost as soon as he had started the onslaught, hands removing themselves from your backside as he took a short step away. You were left utterly baffled over the interaction, face warming significantly while glancing around to see if anyone had seen what had happened.
Thankfully, no one was close enough to even take notice.
“I…what was…IV, what was that?”
He blinked slowly, his countenance hard to read, and then his hand came into your line of sight with a flourish. Held between his index and middle fingertips was a black guitar pick, ever so slightly faded at the edges from use, a familiar sight in his hand. The indication, however, was that he had retrieved it from your pocket, and you were utterly floored on how that was even possible.
“I don’t…I didn’t…!”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed, “but III did, the cheeky arse. He’s been hinting at it for the last half hour.”
Just like that, you were thrown back to earlier when III was being a menace, recounting he had snatched the set list from your pocket and had also placed it back. In that split second, he must have slipped the guitar pick right in with the list, and you had been none the wiser.
Almost in disbelief, you reached back and touched the affronting pocket, the folded piece of paper within crumpled and slightly askew from IV’s previous intrusion.
“Right, of course he did,” you grumbled, though there was amusement behind the exasperation and embarrassment. Leave it to III to rile up the others and you before the show. With the weird energy going on, he must have set himself into overtime to keep everyone's spirits high.
“I hope this didn't set you back on anything,” you lamented. “If so, anything I can help with?”
IV took a moment to take you in, fiddling with the pick in his hand as he did so. You were suddenly aware of the sweat beading at your hairline from your flitting to and fro across the stage and down the hallways. An errant strand of your hair was also hanging freely in front of your eyes, but before you could brush it away, IV was doing it for you, smoothing the strand against the side of your head and letting his knuckles just brush against your jawline.
“No, think you’re helping quite a lot, already. I can feel the stress leaving my body by the second.”
You clicked your tongue to hide how his words were affecting you.
“All of you are horrible flirts, I hope you know,” you whispered, leaning just a tad closer to ensure he heard your admonishment. His eyes lit up, not at all dissuaded. He knew you better than that, knew what he said was welcomed despite your trussed up outward complaints.
“Trust me, angel, we can be so much worse,” he said, though the way the words rolled off his tongue, it almost sounded like a warning, a promise yet to come. If the four of them had it their way, you were sure you'd never get any work done, at least not around the stage.
The thought alone nearly had you biting at your lip.
Your train of thought was abruptly cut off by the shout of your name from across the way, both you and IV turning your attention behind himself. The Stage Manager had seen you and called out, looking both surprised and frustrated, but keeping it together in front of the others.
“Where’s your headset? Been trying to find you the last fifteen minutes!”
“Ah, shit, knew I was forgetting something,” you cursed, followed by a quickly shouted, “sorry, coming!”
Turning one last time to IV, you gave him a sweet, apologetic smile.
“Gotta go. Behave yourself, and tell III the same!”
IV husked out a chuckle as you ran off towards your manager, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you the whole way. When you next looked behind you after being given a headset and a rundown of what still needed doing, he was already gone, most likely to start getting ready for the show.
The feeling of eyes on you didn't falter, however, and you wondered briefly why the feeling didn't sit right with you at that moment.
—
Final check came around before you knew it, the stage crew finishing up small final details as lights and sound were being tested. You checked in again with some of the technicians, ensuring they had everything they needed, then sounded off in your headset that you were heading back to get the band.
Making your way backstage, you traversed the hallways until you came across the green room, your steps slowing to a stop in front of the door. From the other side, muffled somewhat, you could hear the melodic voice of Vessel as he sang, clearly warming up his voice for the night. There was a blend of high and low notes, dips and climbs in the tones that he was easily belting out and bending to his whim. It was always magical hearing him sing, and you were truly grateful to be able to hear it so often in person.
You smiled and swayed along to the words, allowing him time to finish the song. He'd once told you how much he appreciated you letting him get through what he was singing in that moment before knocking, and you had made it a point every night since to patiently wait for the last lingering note before disturbing him.
When silence settled in the hallway for a stretch longer than ten seconds, you finally reached out and gave the door a knock.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we’re doing the final check. Doors open in fifteen, curtain’s up in one hour.”
Muffled voices followed your greeting, the door opening mere seconds later to reveal all four band members. They were dressed in full costume, bodies painted, green robes draped over their lithe figures, and half-skull masks of gold and glittering metal mesh shining in the light. Then there was Vessel, his six-eyed mask edged in flowering gold accents around the open center where his mouth was visible, a striking contrast to his bandmates that was clearly memorable to those who saw him.
Sleep Token was a sight to behold when they were in their full regalia. It nearly took your breath away every show at how perfect the costume design was, how it fit perfectly with the set dressing and the era of music the band was leaning into. You were beyond lucky to be in the position you were in.
“You’re staring, love.”
II’s voice broke through your reverie, and you were suddenly aware of four pairs of eyes on you, varying in shades of blue but each gaze equally as piercing as the next.
Beyond lucky, for sure.
“Just admiring, is all,” you gave as an explanation, smiling sweetly.
Your attention shifted slightly to the conversation happening in your headset, hand coming up to press the mic button and giving your affirmative to what was being asked. In that moment, you missed the way the band members looked at each other, how they communicated without saying a word. You could, however, feel the change that happened, a shift in the energy of the group as your focus switched back to them.
They looked as if they wanted to devour you, and it instantly brought goosebumps to your skin. You’d been given all sorts of hungry looks from each of them before, but never all at once, and never with such voracious intensity.
“Th-they’re ready for you, the techs. They’re ready for the, uh, final check-in.”
You wanted to curse at your stuttering, feeling like a dunce for not being able to keep it together. The normal teasing, you could counter almost easily, as you were used to their individual flair and the easy ebb and flow of whatever the relationship you had with them actually was. Tonight, however, seemed different, and you were beginning to wonder if the weird feeling the band was giving off all day had something to do with whatever was going through their heads right that instance.
What was going through their heads right then?
“Lead the way.”
Vessel’s soft voice was just loud enough for you to hear, his gentle way of getting you out of whatever situation you suddenly found yourself in. You took it without hesitation, giving a sharp nod before turning on your heel and following the hallways once more towards the stage. You could hear them following behind, oddly quiet despite the charged atmosphere that surrounded them.
As soon as you made it to the immediate back of the stage, the band began to fragment, techs pulling III and IV to the side to check their respective instruments one last time, and II heading to the front stage to check his drums. Vessel meandered to where his keyboard was set up as you made your way to center stage, pressing at a few keys as you checked in with some of the stagehands.
Things were looking good, and everything was running right on time. You listened to a few words and precautions being said over your headset, chiming in where you could help and getting the affirmative to do so. Before you could whisk yourself away from the stage, you were stopped short by the gentle bump of Vessel’s hand against your arm, his way of gaining your attention without saying a word.
You turned to him, surprised that he was back at your side, and asked if there was anything he needed. Now prompted, he pointed somewhere higher up on stage, though it wasn't clear what he was trying to show you, so you stepped closer to follow his line of sight. He leaned in just as you had, head tipping down lower towards your own, and you were waiting for him to point out some flaw in the backdrop, something misplaced or missing or just not necessary with quiet words.
What you hadn't expected, however, was the barely-there glide of his lips against the shell of your ear, slow, purposeful, meant to catch you off-guard. Your breath hitched immediately, and it took everything in you to keep your reaction neutral in front of the stagehands moving around you both so as not to alert anyone that anything was out of the ordinary.
“You've been an awful distraction, as of recent,” he murmured, voice soft, reverent, almost playful. “The others can barely contain themselves, and I am no better.”
His other hand, having been at his side and nearly pressed against yours with how closely you were leaning into him, was now carefully trailing along the inside of your own arm, long fingers leaving light, ticklish trails against the sensitive skin, his actions hidden by the flourish of his robes from any passers-by.
“Perhaps, after tonight’s ritual, we wouldn’t mind the distraction.”
Your eyes fluttered briefly before slowly turning to face Vessel, heart beating wildly in your chest at the way he was looking at you, as if you were something to be in awe of. They all looked at you like that, time and time again, and not for the first time you wondered why it was you they had gravitated towards, why you felt so profoundly intertwined with them in such a short amount of time.
Your words were just short of breathy, a little coy.
“Perhaps…that doesn't sound so bad.”
His slow grin had your breath hitching all over again. It was impossible not to smile back, if a bit more bashful and trying to play it off as a perfectly normal interaction. He had quite the ability to almost make you forget what it was you were supposed to be doing.
“Doors open in five! Let's get the band backstage before the entry.”
Yeah, almost.
“If…if that's all,” you began, a trembling hand coming up to press against the ear of your headset, “gotta get you and the others backstage again.”
Vessel, ever observant, noticed how you were being affected by his advances, cherished the knowledge of what he was doing to you with barely-there grazes and tempting words.
“Of course, darling,” he crooned quietly, fingers caressing the inside of your caught wrist one last time before stepping away and giving the smallest bow of his head. He made his way offstage without any fuss, followed closely behind II, who had been guided away by another tech to gather behind the scenes.
You had a moment to yourself to just breathe, taking in the rollercoaster that had been your day as well as the way each member of the band made you feel. Anyone else would think your relationships insane, and you wouldn't blame them, to be so caught up in something so tangible, yet so mysterious, so tempting, yet so damning.
Unfortunately, you didn't have much time to dwell on what exactly it was about Vessel, II, III, and IV that had you in such a chokehold, not with the voice of your manager sounding off in your ear. The time for reflection would have to wait.
The next hour that followed went by in a blur of noise and color as the venue filled out with expectant fans brimming with excited energy, already hyping up the stage design and lighting changes. Capacity filled up fast, and before long, you were helping usher the band back onstage with a violent uproar from the massive crowd awaiting them.
What followed next felt like worship and devotion, a divine connection between those who had joined for the ritual and the band itself. Vessel’s voice was beautiful, as it was every night he graced the masses with his singing, and the Espera were stunning in their back vocals. II was, as always, a machine on the drums, and III and IV were killing their pieces with each new song being played.
You always loved the energy each of them brought to the stage as well as the cheeky interactions between them all, much to the crowd’s delight, also. The band truly felt the music, and those feelings transferred to those who listened. It was simply a marvel to witness, even from backstage, and you were as eager to tell them as much once you got the chance later on in the night as you were anticipating what it was they had in store for you.
You pressed your lips together quickly to keep from smiling like a loon, glancing around quickly to find no one paying you any mind.
Nearly halfway into the set list, just at the first beat drop of the band’s song ‘Emergence’, your name was spoken hastily through harsh static over your headset. You responded immediately, turning away from your view of the stage to focus on what was being said.
“Sorry, one…crew…can’t find the…green room area?”
“Shit, wait, what happened?”
“...crew…lost it…around green room, or something? They sounded panicked, but asked…you, specifically.”
Piecing together the words through the strange bout of static was difficult, though it seemed like one of the crew members had either lost something or was having some sort of panic attack, both of which had definitely happened in the past and were usually easy fixes. Regardless, they had asked for your help, and you were already walking away from the side of the stage before you had given an answer.
“Heading that way, now.”
There was another hiss of static, one you could only assume was in confirmation to your previous statement. You hoped you wouldn't have to get medical involved, but you made a mental note of their current location, anyway, while also making a mental note to talk to someone about the static in your headset.
Keeping your steps hurried, you navigated your way back into the hallways in low lighting, finding the short stretch from the green room empty as you came up on it. Confused, you stopped at the door and gave it a knock before peeking inside, finding the space empty. There was no one to be seen around you, no panicked crew mates or possible lost items on the floor.
What on earth…?
“Hello?”
Quiet settled in the hall, or as quiet as the venue could be with the ritual happening onstage and a mass of eager fans singing along. The longer you waited for an answer, the more eerie things began to feel. There was a ball of anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach, and you were reminded of how the day had started out, the feeling of wrong that had settled over the day.
Something wasn't right.
Nervous, you turned on your heel and headed back towards the stage, only making it a few steps when you heard a rushed shuffling behind you. Before you could turn around, something was being thrown over your head and around your neck, gloved hands pulling fast a bunched line of cables tight against your throat.
Fight-or-flight kicked in immediately, your hands reaching up and clawing at the thin cables as you tried to shake your assailant off of you. They were quick to bring a knee out and knocked it into the back of one of yours, effectively forcing you to kneel right into the cables and choking off the majority of your air.
“S-stop…ple-please,” you choked out, fingers desperately trying to pry between your skin and the wires. You were barely able to get any air in, gasps muted as you tried, in vain, to breathe.
“You don't deserve them, you know?”
The voice behind you was altered, low and quiet in your ear, shivers of fear zipping down your spine with every word spoken.
“You're not special, not like them. Not like us. So why do they give you their attention? What did you do?”
There was no way to answer, not with the cables wrapped so tightly, your vision beginning to spot in the corners with the lack of oxygen. Fat tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, unhurried.
Your assailant either didn't want or need you to answer them, simply content to watch you from behind as you lost consciousness. The fear that your life was simply about to be snuffed out, just like that, ran through your panicked mind, and you gave one last effort to throw them off of you. Your body was too weak, however, and a quick adjustment from the attacker all but ensured you weren't going anywhere.
“Let this be a warning, then,” was spoken against your ear, firm and threatening. It was the last thing you heard before blacking out completely.
“Back off. Divinity is not to be played with, and I will ensure you will not ruin them.”
Your hands dropped seconds later, body giving in and shutting down. Your attacker let go, watching as you fell to the floor heavily, body completely limp.
The cables in their hand were tossed to the side, no longer necessary. Cloaked in dark clothing and shadows, they kneeled down, clicking their tongue.
“Choose wisely, or even Sleep won't be able to reach you.”
On stage, ‘Emergence’ came to its conclusion, the saxophone melody petering out as the audience roared their appreciation and devotion, feeding the fire of a well-fueled ritual to the Divine.