Stalker // DNF

14: Abandoned

Dream leads George out of the bus and down the, seemingly, random neighborhood he had chosen to stop at. He takes a slight turn once they brush past the shelter, down the side of a post office. 

They reach the back of the shop and Dream shuffles between the bricks and a fence in a tight gap. Once they emerge the other side, Dream finally lets go of George's arm. George lets out a long exhale, slightly breathless after having to keep up with Dream's long legs and fast pace.

He looks around and takes in the location; a closed off abandoned garden, with a windowless wall of a building coating one side of the grassland. A high, brick wall, covered in moss and branches of trees hanging over, covers the other sides, a small bush disguising the narrow gap Dream and George had shuffled through. The overgrown grass tickles George's knees and he hears birds chirping from the other side of the wall, some preaching from high branches on the grown saplings.

'It's kinda nice here, right?' Dream asks, shrugging one of his shoulders down to slide his rucksack from his back onto the grass.

'Yeah...' George replies, the small area surprisingly calming in its isolation from the city. 'How did you find it?'

Dream crouches down by his bag and buries his head in the unzipped pocket. 'I saw the gap before and was just curious where it led to.'

George walks around Dream, trying to get a clearer view of what he was occupied with. He catches Dream pulling out something from the bottom of his bag, one arm gripping the side to keep the rucksack glued to the ground.

'Here,' Dream says, the items escaping the bag and being tossed from Dream's palms to George's with no warning.

George sees the hurling of cloth and cups the articles into his arms and against his chest. He retracts the objects from his body and unfolds them, seeing plain black joggers and a matching tee drop from his outstretched arms.

'These are... your clothes?' George asks, raising an eyebrow.

'Mhm,' Dream says, standing up from his crouch. 'Get changed so we can get started.'

'Get started on what?'

'George, you've got to be kidding. I'm giving you a change of clothes so yours don't get ruined, you're in the company of a known painter who's brought cans of paint with him and there's a big, bare wall here desperate to be coated. I think it's safe for you to assume we're about to do some painting,' Dream explains, a playful grin smeared across his lips.

George looks at the windowless wall, towering and daunting. 'But I can't paint.'

'Well it's lucky I'm here, isn't it?' Dream says, looking pointedly at the clothes in George's arms. 'I'll turn around for you to change.'

George scoffs. 'No way in hell am I changing with you meters away, I don't trust you won't look.'

Dream's jaw drops in mock offense. 'I won't! I swear, you know I'm a man of my word.' He spins around dramatically and brings his hands up to cover his eyes. 'No peeping from my end.'

George looks at the back profile of Dream, almost feeling amused at what Dream was proposing.. and how he was considering it. He could feel the cold temperature pinch his cheeks, it would feel painful blowing against the bare skin of his body. But George's curiosity is gnawing at his brain, wanting to know what Dream had exactly planned.

He glances at the black items and then at Dream's turned back. He probably won't turn around, right?

'Fine, I'm trusting you,' George sighs, unzipping his coat and instantly feeling the icy air blow against his exposed arms. 'It's bloody freezing.'

Dream's position remains set in stone, including his non-moving arms concealing his eyes. George quickly steps out of his trousers and shirt, throwing on their replacements as soon as they leave his body. He continues to glance up at Dream, making sure his back is still facing George's front.

'I look ridiculous,' George says once he's changed, folding his old clothes into an organised pile. He has no reflective surface for reference, but he can feel the t-shirt drooping past his waist, reaching to his upper thigh, and excess material of the joggers gathering at his ankles.

'Can I turn around?' Dream asks, his hands dropping to his sides.

'Yes.'

He rotates on one foot, his eyes instantly finding and scanning George's new outfit.

Dream's face lights up and he laughs in delight, clapping in amusement.

'Do I have a great fashion sense or what? You look so cute.'

George rolls his eyes and picks up his coat, which had been thrown into the grass in a hurry, and wraps himself in it again.

'Can we move on from this and get started?'

'So impatient,' Dream tuts, dragging his bag across the ground, nearer to the wall. 'Okay, so.' He claps his hands together once again as he lets go of the rucksack. 'The plan is for you to paint whatever you want, probably something small for your first mural, with my help and guidance.'

He returns to his squat by the bag and begins drawing out spray cans.

'I usually paint at night, but no one will see us here, so there's no pressure and we have a bit more time,' Dream explains. 

George stares at the never ending line of cans forming in front of the wall, Dream's swift hands installing a sense of overwhelm in him.

'What do you mean by "paint whatever I want"?' He asks.

'That's exactly what I mean, the world is your oyster,' Dream replies, distracted by his task.

George tries to think of what would look nice painted on the wall. Barely any ideas fly to the front of his mind, but all those that do seem far too complex for his beginner's hand.

'You gotta give me more help than that.'

Dream clicks his tongue, pulling out the final bottle and placing it next to the others. 'Unfortunately, creativity is not my strong suite - that's why I had to... find inspiration elsewhere.' He looks pointedly at George, clearly hinting at his cyber-stalking.

George feels the familiar chill run down his spine and clears his throat. 'Right, okay. Well, I'm not gunna do that... but what did you, uh - look for?'

Dream stands up and brushes his knees, freeing them from remnants of grass strands, before meeting George's gaze.

'Well with the others I looked for anything really; stuff in their background, clutter they had laying around, posters... Anything could just give me a pang of inspiration and I'd just go with it.'

George looks at Dream and observes a gust of wind ruffle a strand of his hair that's peeking from below the beanie.

'And what would you look for when you looked at me?'