Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XXXVI

Dream and George both looked towards the intruder with slight concern. Dream was keenly aware of George's frame pressed heavily against a bone in his pelvis, and he shifted slightly to distribute the weight.

A drunken man's voice filled the room as he made his way to use one of the urinals. "Damn bitches don't know what they're talking about," he huffed in a heavily slurred, ragged voice. "Fucking whore called me the unstable one! She doesn't know what she's talking about," he rambled, voice echoing throughout the small bathroom. There was the sound of him unzipping his trousers. "You get me?" He asked, directing his voice to no one in particular.

George shifted slightly, tucking his legs in to make sure he couldn't be seen under the stall. Dream pulled him closer, trying to hold his breath and slow his racing heart. He hadn't been expecting anyone to come in.

"Damn women. Ruin everything," the man growled in a rough voice. "At least she gave me another reason to come 'ere. I'll drink until I die, you know. Wha'dya say?" He asked, not really making sense. He paused as if waiting for an answer.

No one gave one.

"I said, what do you say?" The man repeated with a tad of anger ringing in his voice. "I know someone's in here." It was only then that Dream realized the question was aimed at him. He must have seen his foot under the stall or something.

"Uh- yeah," Dream agreed, voice slightly elevated with panic.

"My bitch kicked me out, can you believe that? I go to work every day, pay the bills, feed the kids, and she kicks me out for having a few drinks. Can you believe that?" He asked heatedly.

"Uh..." Dream said, not really knowing how to respond to that. George fixed him with a stare, as if saying, say something, idiot. "Bitches, man," Dream forced a confident ring into his voice, trying to appease this random man. Hurry up and get out, he thought impatiently.

"Bitches," the man agreed before there was a sound of him zipping up his pants and clearing his throat. "What're ya doin in there, huh? Doing drugs?" He asked with mild interest in a drunken voice, and to Dream's unease he realized his voice was getting closer.

"Uh, shitting," Dream instantly lied in a matter-of-fact voice, a little louder than before. Forceful. Anxious. "Obviously. What's it to you?" He added, unable to fully extinguish the anxiety from his voice.

The man huffed. "If it's drugs, I want some," he added, completely ignoring what Dream said as his voice came ever closer. Boot-steps echoed throughout the room. "It smells like weed in here."

"I'm not doing drugs," Dream stated. "That wasn't me." George shifted uncomfortably on top of him.

"You sound like you're lying," the man snickered, and at this point Dream could see the his boots under the stall. He was standing at the door. Dream could hear his heart pounding in his ears, throat clenching.

"I'm not," Dream desperately tried to convince this guy to just go away. "I'm taking a shit, you asshole." He gritted his teeth waiting for a response.

"Hmmmm..." The man grumbled, and Dream was shocked when he heard the door begin to jitter. This fucker was trying to get in.

The lock rattled, shaking the whole stall with it. Dream and George both had wide eyes as the man grumbled again, "open the door."

"What the fuck?" Dream said in response, "Fuck off, weirdo." He was practically yelling now. George silently slid off of his body as the man continued.

"You sound young. How old are you?" The guy asked.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Dream retorted angrily in response.