Stalker // DNF

8: Answer

'I'm not holding a gun to your head, George, you're here on your own free will,' Dream says, taking a step back and showcasing the path leading back to the main road with his arm. 'You can leave whenever you want.'

George looks down the path that had been waiting there for him the entire time, an escape. Yet the suffocating feeling doesn't vanish.

He takes a step away from the wall, his legs grudgingly carrying him away from the sturdy comfort of the cool bricks. George's body sidesteps from the loose gravel to the cement path, the firmer ground consoling his sweaty palms and desert dry throat. He makes sure to never allow his back to face Dream and to never get closer than he had been in his previous stance.

George moves slowly, observing Dream's body turn, following the direction George moves. Dream's arm drops by his side as he watches, his feet in stillness.

Once both of George's feet land on the cement, he takes a couple of steps backwards and pauses. He looks at Dream, the man he'd hoped to see when he left his house mere minutes ago. The man he'd hoped to interrogate on why he'd invaded George's life. Was he really going to run away like a skittish mouse in the eyes of an opportunity?

Dream's smile has faded, but George can see faint smile lines bordering his eyes, removing threat from his expressionless face. He was looking at George, looking at his feet, his chest and then back to his eyes. George felt like a laser was scanning him, draining him of any other information Dream hadn't already stole from him.

'Show me everything you have on you right now,' George announces, breaking the brief silence. He crosses an arm across his chest and tries to stand taller, faking the confidence he wishes he possessed and could use.

Dream's eyebrows tweak. 'Sorry?'

'Empty your pockets, now,' George says, stepping slightly left so the street lamp behind him can more efficiently illuminate Dream, improving his vision. 'If I'm going to stay here even for a second longer, I need to know you're not holding anything that could hurt me.'

An amused smirk passes Dream's face as he raises his chin to speak.

'What makes you think I want you to stay longer?'

George huffs, 'Well, firstly you came looking for me.'

'- As did you for me,' Dream interrupts instantly, nodding his head at the map which George had forgotten was still hanging from his hand by his side.

George ignores him, 'And you've been stalking me for god knows how long.' He bawls the map in his fist, stuffing it back in his pocket. 'So I think it's fair to say you're going to empty your pockets right about now.'

Dream lets out a short outburst of laughter, his eyes crinkling back into their crescent shape.

'You step away from the wall and the confidence finally comes out?'

George doesn't answer. He fights back his pride in hiding his fear by smothering it with false confidence, and it seems to be doing the trick. He glances down expectantly at the pockets of Dream's jeans before looking back up at his grin.

'Okay, okay. Look -' Dream pulls out a phone. There is no case protecting the device, so Dream crouches down to carefully place it before his feet. 'And this.' Joining the phone on the path is a single, silver key, reflecting the light of the moon from above. He then turns his pockets inside out, showing George their lack of contents, other than small tufts of lint. ''That's all I have on me, truly.'

George scans Dream's person for any other possible hiding places for weapons, but even his hoodie has no trace of nooks for possessions. The fact calms his rapid heartbeat by a fraction.