Stalker // DNF

7: Danger

George's feet rotate quickly on the loose pebbles, he almost loses balance, but is quick to steady himself by ripping his arms out of their comfort in his pockets, and stretching them out by his side.

A meter away from his person stands a tall man, his legs comfortably relaxed with his arms crossed loosely across his broad chest. He wears black jeans and a hoodie with the hood drawn up. Dark blonde strands poke from under their jail cell, creating soft shadows across his face. He's staring at George, his siren eyes glowing from a distant street lamp with his lips tilted up into a satisfied grin.

'I knew you'd be here, you're too predictable, George,' he utters, the smile never disappearing from his eyes and lips.

George's terror leaves him silent. He stands, a loose shake forming in his hands and his eyes wide in fear. He wishes he hadn't ventured away from the main street, away from the witnesses. He wishes he hadn't dared to come at night and so far from the lamps near the road. The moon was becoming clearer in the sky and not a single star was to be observed.

The man's smile pulls further up his face in George's silence as he switches his positioning to lean fully onto one hip, his other leg resting gently on the ground.

'Feeling a little shy? Or has my art left you speechless?' he asks, his arms never uncrossing from his body. His crescent eyes dance in the moonlight, not a sign of fear or intimidation crossing his sharp features.

George stuffs his icy palms back into the pockets of his coat and swallows hard. He feels his saliva forcefully be pushed down his dry throat, the sandpaper texture giving him the urge to wince, which he ignores.

'So you're Dream? The man who's watching me through the webcam and painting creepy images about what he hears?' George rasps, hating how small and fearful his voice sounds. He feels like a mouse under the watch of a hungry cat, unsure of when the predator will attack.

Dream chuckles lightly, not allowing his volume to increase from the quiet and steady pitch.

'I wouldn't say creepy, you just offered me useful inspiration which I, gratefully, took.'

George hated how intensely Dream was looking at him. He hated how steady Dream's voice was. He hated how scared he was. He hated how his damn heart beat like a drum march reaching its plateau, pleading him to run from the danger.

'What the fuck?' George whispered, beginning to step back slowly towards the wall, needing to feel the support and grounding of its presence. 'Why me?'

Dream looks down at George's backing feet for a glance. George was relieved for the second he gained without Dream's piercing glare on his face and allows himself to let a shaky breath pass his lips.

'You made it too easy, George. I thought the police, especially a cyber-crime guy, were supposed to know about online safety,' Dream smiles, remaining in his place and returning his previous gaze.

George feels the cool wall hit his back and leans back onto it, knowing all the kids in the painting were staring down at both versions of himself, laughing, pointing. What an idiot, he can hear them laugh.

'I didn't know the webcam was on,' George croaks, wincing once again at his stupidity. 'What do you know - what did you hear?'

'Never you mind,' Dream replies swiftly, glancing up at the sky with a grin. The sun has almost completely disappeared now, George clings on to each second of additional light before he would be left in the dark with this stranger.

'It's a crime, y'know,' George says, wishing the wall would swallow him whole and take him away, anywhere but here.

Dream scoffs, a loud, cocky exhale leaving his mouth. 'You don't say? I kinda gathered that when you started investigating me for the others... officer.'

George's breath hitches once again in surprise. 'What others?'

Dream's smile returns as his head jerks back to George, clearly caught in surprise. An eyebrow raises from it's low placement above an eye as he uncrosses his arms and interlaces his fingers in front of his torso.

'Oh come on - you seriously didn't figure out it was me?'

George stares, not daring to move, not daring to reply.

'You didn't piece together this street, that I'm so fed up of painting on, is also the street with those 5 people?' Dream shook his head lightly. 'George, George, George, how disappointed I am in you.'

His name sounded unnatural, foreign and chilling coming from Dream's lips. He wants to beg him to never utter it again, wants to keep one shard of himself and his privacy only for him.

George barely processes what Dream was saying. He knew what Dream was confessing, that he had been the cyber-stalker of the cold case. But with George's welfare on the line, he couldn't think clearly, or allow a thought to pass that didn't involve him running to safety.

'Why did you come here tonight then, did you not figure out the pattern?' Dream frowns, removing his weight from his hip and taking a step closer to George.

'Please don't hurt me,' George rushes out as soon as Dream's presence nears his. His back squeezes into the wall, as if he can press himself through the cracks of the bricks if he tries hard enough.

Dream instantly stops in his path, facing his palms towards George in a mock surrender.

'I won't hurt you, I promise,' Dream says. 'I wouldn't even hurt a fly.'

George pushes back a scoff, knowing his online safety had already been slashed by this man.

'So you didn't find out the pattern?' Dream continues, this time remaining in place with his hands returning to their interlaced lattice.

George pushes down his terror and tries to ignore impulses to find an immediate escape route.

'What pattern?'

'Well, when you finally discovered I was painting about you, I figured you'd try and find a pattern to find me and where I'd paint next,' Dream explains.

'I did,' George confesses, rushing to feel around in his pocket for the map. 'But I couldn't find a pattern... so I just came here 'cause you seem obsessed with this street recently.'

He pulls the map out with all the markings of Dream's previous artwork locations. The sight of the paper spreads a larger smile on Dream's face.

'Ah, I guess I'm not the only "stalker" here,' Dream says smugly, moving his hands to create quotation marks in the air. 'You've been tracking me.'

'Only today since, I'll remind you, I found out you've been tracking me,' George says defensively. 'Anyway, what pattern?'

Dream glances from the map to George. 'Can I step forward to show you?'

'No,' George replies instantly. 'No, you can show me from there.'

Dream shakes his head and spark of irritation pings in George. Why was George being made to feel like he was the one being irrational?

'Fine. For the past like... 2 weeks? I've been painting in places to make up the shape of a smiley face - we're standing in the mouth right now.'

Their current position of the curved street flashed in George's head. On the map, the soft line would give the look of a small mouth.

'That's stupid,' George replies bluntly.

'It's endearing, I was trying to be endearing for you, George.'

'Well you've ended up scaring the shit out of me. Please let me leave,' George pleads.

'Why did you come here if you didn't want a chat?'

George can't think of the answer. Why had he come here? Answers... is that what he had wanted? Because all he could ever wish for now was a slower heart rate and a locked door between him and Dream.

'Please let me leave.'