Stalker // DNF

10: Bafflement

George almost laughs at Dream's causal nature and the wave of his hand, acting as if they are old pals. However, his fear blocks his laughter and replaces it with a return of his racing heart at Dream's sighting.

He bewilderingly lowers his eyebrows and shakes his head lightly in shock.

'Sorry, could I just squeeze past?' the older man snatches George's attention as he shuffles past George's frame. George turns his back to allow the man some more room and recognizes the music in the room has switched to an unfamiliar tune. He hadn't realized the comforting track had ended and now he was just standing in a foreign location with foreign noise.

George twists back to his original standing position as soon as the man has gotten by, uncomfortable with his back to Dream.

Dream was still looking at George. When he sees his attention had turned back to him, Dream perked up and nodded at the seat opposite him with widened eyes.

George allows a choked burst of laughter through, was he crazy?

George glances at the jukebox playing a song he doesn't care for, then glances at his friends over the many heads in the distance. He can't see clearly what they are occupied with, but he can make out Cole's hand wrapped around his glass and moving lips. His attention then moves to the bar, where the waitress is still not present. Finally, his eyes return to Dream, not surprised that he is still staring hopefully at him.

The sound of clinking glasses and happy chatter from all around assure him of his safety and press on his pulse to quiet it. Nothing bad is going to happen here, he's sure of it.

Lead by curiosity, George finds himself drifting to Dream's table, holding the eye contact and shaking his head at his own disregard for common sense.

'What the hell are you doing here?' George demands as soon as he becomes within earshot of Dream. He continues his walk, leaning both of his hands on the back of the chair opposite Dream when he arrives, his biceps tensing at the others' attendance.

Dream smiles, his weight being held by his forearms resting on the table. Up close and in a well-lit room, George can see many more details of his face which the darkness had kept from him the previous night. It scares him how he looks so... normal?

His smile lines are much more prominent and George can see small imprints of dimples, cuddling the corner of Dream's grin. The most striking feature are his bottle green eyes, never leaving George's face. Their intensity tighten George's shoulders.

'Good evening to you too,' Dream says, lifting one of his arms to cup his chin. He's wearing a plain black tee, over-sized and drooping below George's visibility due to the table. A silver chain, holding a pendent of a dainty paint brush, droops from his neck and rests on his chest.

George shakes his head in frustration. 'Dream.'

Dream's eyes widen for a split second hearing his name, but then relax before George can spot the action.

'You know, I would usually be bothered from you almost exposing my identity in this crammed place... but I'll let it slide 'cause I'm so happy to see you.' Dream quickly scans the room. 'Why are you in this dump anyway? I'm desperate to leave.'

George scoffs, leaning over the chair to avoid others hearing him.

'Then fucking leave, did you follow me here? What's wrong with you?' George hisses, the knowledge that Dream can't hurt him being a surprisingly large blockade of terror.

'I may have wanted to see you again, so what? Is that now a crime?' Dream smiles, leaning back in his chair and allowing his arms to fall into his lap.

'Yes!? That is very obviously a crime! It's called stalking, Dream!' George cries, the fear creeping back into his skin at the knowledge that Dream had continued to track him.

'Oh my gosh, I wasn't following you. I saw you walking with your friends down the street and then... well then I did start following you,' Dream admits sheepishly. 'But I made up for it by playing that song you and your mom like!'

George feels as if an ice cold bucket of water had been chucked down his spine.

'How do you know about that?'

Dream rolls his eyes, 'I don't keep it a secret that I was watching you through that webcam, George. It was something I learned during that era.'

George frustratingly jerks his posture up so he is no longer stooping over the chair. He yanks that same chair out from under the table and chucks himself down while clapping his hands once in anger.

'Right, Dream. You're scaring me. Stop reminding me of that and please, please stop following me,' George pleads. 'I've closed the case, okay? You're off the hook, you won't be arrested. Take the win and carry on with your weird painter life, leaving cyber-crime and me alone.'

Dream's eyes had wandered back to the menu while George had been talking, one hand being picked up from his lap to trace a line of the paper.

'Is the cod good here? I remember it being dry when I came here before,' he mutters, George's ears barely picked up his words over the high volume of the room.

George stares at him in bafflement before leaning over and snatching the menu out from under Dream's nose.

'This isn't a joke. If I see you again, I'm calling the cops. And I'll have evidence this time,' George says, ensuring Dream's attention stays on him.

Dream's head lolls in a circle before drooping towards George. 'Yes, yes - I get it. And this may be bad timing, but I was going to ask to see you again. It's why I dropped by, actually.'

George's mouth dropped open in amazement at Dream's tone. This was an actual psychopath across from him.

'What the actual hell is wrong with you? Why on earth would I want to see you again? Leave me be!' George's voice begins raising without him noticing until a mother from the table across turns around in her seat and glares at him, nodding at her sleeping baby. George ignores her, keeping his attention on Dream.

'I may be able to offer some useful information on that "closed" case of yours,' Dream says, raising a single eyebrow.

George smacks his hands on the table and presses himself to his feet, scraping the seat back under the table, secretly smiling when he feels the chair hit Dream's knee and catches him wince.

'That's bullshit, the case is centred around you! - I'm leaving and, please, never speak to me again,' George demands, turning around and begins walking in the direction of 2 occupied chairs back-to-back, with just enough room to allow him to squeeze through.

Dream's voice is heard as he storms away, but he maintains his turned back.

'I'm a man of my word. Meet me by the swimming painting again tomorrow night and I'll tell you whatever you want.' George navigates through the chairs and ignores Dream's final words, raised to counteract the distance George had put between them.

'And you know I'll never hurt you.'