Stalker // DNF

11: X-ray

George walks slowly on the curb, allowing plenty of time for his brain to change its mind and allow him to turn around and run back home.

His feet drag along the concrete, creating a painful scratching sound and filing down the sole's of his shoes. The extra weight of the recording device hidden in his coat pocket is minimal, but the alteration of George's pace would suggest he was carrying a boulder with him.

He's going to meet Dream - of course he's going to. George had returned to the table with his friends at the pub the previous night, and been completely distracted the entire meal with Dream's proposition to give him additional information. When he realised his mind couldn't be taken off the idea, he knew he would go, curiosity outweighing his regard for his personal safety.

So when he arrived at work this morning, he managed to grab a listening device which was laying about on the desk of his co-worker. He knew it would be noted down as missing, but he intended to return it as soon as possible. If Dream kept to his word and spilled additional information about the case, of course George was going to try everything in his power to record it as evidence.

George craves justice for the 5 victims, but now also craves a peace of mind with the hope of erasing Dream's sudden appearance in his life. The bolt on his front door fails to lock out the thoughts that Dream could be around the corner, watching, at any given time.

He reaches the street, knowing he has to turn down the darkened path, hidden between the buildings, to reach the swimming painting that Dream had specified. George briefly pauses, feeling the device for comfort before continuing the walk towards the graffiti of his vulnerability.

He jumps in shock and stumbles back when he sees Dream leaning against the wall of a flat, one of his feet kicked up against the wall behind his body. He's nearer to the road than George would have anticipated and George hadn't expected him to be here quite yet.

Dream had been staring at the heel of his shoe, before glancing up when George had turned onto his same path. 

'You came!' he exclaims, pushing himself away from the wall with a smile on his face, pressing the smile lines into the corners of his eyes. 

He's wearing a similar outfit to before, jeans, but this time with a puffer coat thrown over his hoodie. He walks forward, but stops just before George is about to step back.

'You know, we really should have agreed a time, because I've been standing around for almost an hour,' Dream continues, his eyes drifting down to process George's outfit.

George crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously as Dream takes in his sweats and coat. Dream's eyes linger on George's coat for a second before he looks back at his face.

'So, Dream,' George brakes his silence, admiring how his voice is not as small as it had been the first night. He thinks of the device waiting for him in his pocket and continues, 'Can we not beat around the bush? - The case?'

Dream grins lightly, tilting his head to the side. He pauses for a second and allows his arms to hang loosely by his side.

'I would have told you anything,' he replies tonelessly, taking a step into George's personal bubble. 

George instinctively takes a step back, trying not to stumble as Dream's emerald eyes increase in potency in clearer vision.

Dream catches George backing away and stops for a breath, delving into the pockets of his jeans and turning them inside out. 'I won't hurt you, I have nothing like that on me.' He proceeds to dig into his coat pockets and pull out the same phone and key from few nights before, leaning down to place them by the wall of the apartment.

'See?' Dream lifts his hands up, palms facing George. 'I haven't got anything on me... can't say the same for you, though.' 

Dream continues his previous action and walks towards George, his eyes drifting back to George's coat.

'You really should have hidden your wire better, George,' Dream says, his voice lowering as he gets nearer. 

George's feet feel glued to the path as he freezes in fear, his crossed arms squeezing his chest in a pathetic attempt at protection. He sees Dream staring at his right coat pocket, catching the small lump the device left like an x-ray.

He can barely think straight and begins to feel dizzy in terror, his throat closing up as Dream steps right in front of him. His wide eyes look up at Dream's face, feeling his body warmth travel through the air to George's white face.

Dream's ominous height towers over his, the painter's seemingly calm attitude not soothing the sweat pooling at George's upper back.

Dream's open palm extends outwards, following the direction of his eyes.

George feels his heart hammering in his throat as his pupils follow the direction of Dream's hand. He can only stand and observe, his legs feeling as is they would collapse under his weight if he was to attempt to move.

Dream's hand gently finds the entrance of George's coat pocket and hovers in the folded material, lightly searching for the wire. George's breath hitches and he feels his stomach tensing as Dream's hand is felt faintly over the hated body part, through the material of his shirt and coat. George can't think of anything else but wanting to throw Dream's hand away from his abdomen.

He holds his breath and silently sighs in relief when Dream's hand retrieves from his pocket and back into the open air. It's a brief solace as George then catches the recording device clutched in Dream's grip. He hadn't even noticed Dream had found it, distracted by the discomfort of the hand hovering over his belly.

George swallows as Dream steps back a minute amount, leaving enough room for his arms to reach up and dangle the wire between them.

'I'm going to be honest, this has dampened my mood, George,' Dream says, finally removing his stare from the gadget and back to the others' face. His tone remains consistent, despite his words.

George stares at the wire, feeling a hallowing lightness where it had lay a few seconds ago. In a brief moment of confidence, his arms rip free from their hold of each other, and attempt to snatch the recorder that droop in front of his eyes.

Dream's fast reflexes catch George off-guard as the device is swung around like a lasso and land in a tight embrace within Dream's enclosed hands.

'Nice try,' Dream says dryly, glancing down to turn the implement off. As soon as the red light disappears, George feels his fingernails cut into his palms and his stomach drops.

Whatever Dream does next, there will be no evidence of it.