The Boy at The Park

Part 8. Trouble

After a long day at work and with no sign of Dream, George was starting to really panic. He was on the brink of having a panic attack so as soon as he got home, he got undressed and threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue, oversized hoodie. He ran straight back outside slamming the door behind him. He needed to clear his head. Where would he always find Dream? Where did Dream always hang out?

Roof spot.

George began to speed walk in it's direction trying to keep his composure in public but the second he snuck into the building from the back as he always did, he leaned on the wall and took a few deep breaths.

It's okay. He thought.

George dreaded going up the stairs he had a feeling that he won't be there, but there was still a spark of hope in him. When he made it to the top after a climbing up a few flights of stairs, his heart dropped.

There was no one there.

It looked so empty. George was so used to seeing the blonde haired figure sitting at the edge of the building with his back turned towards George. Swinging his legs like a child before turning around and greeting his bestfriend with a hug and huge smile.

Now it was just him and the gentle breeze.

George made his way to the edge, right where Dream would normally sit, and just plopped onto the cold concrete. He took another few deep breathes and closed his eyes enjoying the moment, pretending that Dream was there right next to him.

Only a few seconds pass before his peace got interrupted by a unfamiliar, croaky voice of an older man, probably in his 60's, shouting from below.

"Oi, you better watch out kiddo you're in my area of town remember that"

It wasn't directed at him, although at first he thought it was. Interest got the better of him and he peered down to where the voice came from. He could barely make out 2 figures standing, dominantly, almost completely still about 20 metres apart from eachother in an alleyway. It was getting darker now, the small sketchy alleyways of London were cast with shadows.

Neither of their faces were visible. One, because the man with the croaky voice was facing away from George, and the other was wearing, what appeared to be, a circular, white mask with something on it. George squinted his eyes and made out a faint smiley face painted on it.

With that, the same figure was wearing a unzipped, green hoodie with his hood up to cover his hair, a grey t-shirt underneath, black cargo trousers with chains attached to them, and black combat boots. The other one was just simply wearing an ugly trench coat, some brown trousers, and boots.

Hmm. What kind of modern day ninja look is this? The fit is kinda neat but that mask is creepy if you ask me. I must've missed the invite to a sketchy masquerade party. George giggled at the thought. But in all seriousness, he found it quite intriguing. However, this whole situation did had a weird feel to it.

A few second pass and the figures are still talking, but it sounded like mumbling to George. He decides to go down and check what's happening.

>>>>>>

Only a few seconds pass as George is crouching  behind one of the buildings which the alleyway leads to. All he can hear is the same man speaking. The masked figure hasn't said a word.

"You're gonna be done for one day you just wait." Was the last line George heard from the old man before he started to walk off.

A simple, short laugh coming from the green hooded man was enough to make both George and the trench coat man freeze, and skip a heart beat. He stopped in mid step and turned back around to face him.

"Well oh well, he speaks." The figure snarled.

George however let out a gasp, obviously not intentionally. He recognised that laugh, it was Dream's laugh. But it was muffled because of the mask. Surely not. It's just the material of the mask making it sound like that.

Everything fell silent the second that gasp escaped his mouth. He knew he was fucked, they definitely heard him.

The crunch coming from under the combat boots was spine-chilling, as the figure started to slowly turned around on the spot. George's reflex shot in as he spun his head back round the corner and glued it to the brick wall he was leaning against. He cautiously stood up from his crouching position, panicking like never before. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure they could hear it. He was even scared of breathing too loudly but couldn't help it.

It felt like his brain was drained with ideas, all he could think of was running there and then. So he did. He shot away from his spot and ran into an alley way opposite. Then sprinted in almost a zigzag motion through the spider web of corridors to try to lose the footsteps he heard echoing behind him. He barely saw what was before him. It was pitch black now apart from the faint streets lights shining from the main road, indicating George where to go.

He lost him.

Shit, why don't I just mind my own business.

840 words

Pretty pog.