Stalker // DNF

25: Interlace

George gnaws at his nails, filing them down with his teeth until they feel raw and the skin surrounding shines red. The bus journey was dragging out for what felt like hours, yet simultaneously the hands of his watch seemed to be completing laps too rapidly.

He was always anxious whenever he'd meet Dream - the criminal record and obsessive behaviours speak for themselves. But there were not enough tranquilizers in the world to calm George's racing heart today.

He continues to restlessly shift in his seat, every position adding to his discomfort. The quietude of the bus, for once, was unpreferable; he wishes there was at least one conversation he could listen and eavesdrop on to distract his overstimulated mind.

The bus turns down another unfamiliar street, or so George thinks until he catches the familiarity of the buildings and shops from the previous night. At the sight of the agreed meeting spot, the chapel, George leans forward to press the Stop button and immediately stands up. He struggles to navigate his way down the moving bus, swaying at every bump in the road, yet his body won't allow him to sit still for a moment longer.

The bus comes to a stop and George stumbles out quickly, mumbling thanks to the driver. His feet hit the pavement and he instantly catches Dream sitting in the bus shelter, leaning his forearms on his thighs and wearing a small smile.

George's nerves are amplified as he trudges over, his nails digging into his palms. Dream's eyes follow him and he pushes himself to his feet, increasing his intimidation with the added height.

'Hi,' George greets quietly, coming to a stop when he's reached the other on the pavement.

'Hi,' Dream repeats as he glances down and then back up again. 'Cute outfit.'

George bites his cheek to stop his smile while he glances down at the many layers of clothing hung over his torso. He'd piled on covering after covering, anticipating the cold weather in the absence of sun.

'If you keep suggesting we meet at night, then I've gotta keep warm somehow.'

Dream grins, 'Sensible... But I've gotta say, your hands are looking a little unprotected.' He glances down as he speaks. 'Don't worry, I'll help keep with that.'

He steps forward and grabs George's hand, clasping it with his own palm. He picks it up gently, yet the motions startles George and he can feel his hand tense in the hold of the other. Dream instantly picks up on George's stiffness and loosens his grip just as George's fingers were beginning to relax.

'Oh, hang on,' Dream mumbles, his hand drifting away to the pockets of his trousers. He begins to turn the pockets inside out and George knows he's showing he hasn't got anything on him.

'Oh, that's okay,' George interrupts Dream's movements. 'Honestly, it's not necessary.' He finds himself leaning forward to stop Dream's hand, picking it back up to interlace their fingers together. 'You just caught me offguard, that's all.'

Dream looks down in surprise at their locked hands before returning to George's eyes. He pauses for a second, before saying, 'I was trying to be smooth.'

George laughs, 'Well you definitely tried.' He holds back his comment on how his hand was beginning to benefit from the heat of Dream, warmth beginning to trickle from palm to palm.

'So...' he continues, Dream's clasp melting his previous anxiety. 'What's the plan?'

'Ah,' Dream replies, swinging their hands back as he begins walking towards the chapel, in the direction of a windy path. 'Not really a plan - but the first thing I painted outside is just around the corner. I thought I'd show you... it's a travesty, just to set your expectations. It's really hidden 'cause I was 'practicing' and didn't want anyone to see.'

George follows Dream's lead and feels a pang of curiosity as he nears the location.

'Dream's first painting - wow, you know how to make a guy feel special,' he jokes.

He looks up to catch Dream's smile and his gaze lingers for a second. He scans Dream's eyes, lips, teeth, jaw - anything to shove in his memory and store for whenever he relives his conversations with the painter.

He observes Dream's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, the motion occurring just under where his stubble comes to an end. He feels the urge to extend his hand to trace the larynx and drift his fingers up his neck, feeling the rough texture against his cuticle. He could follow his anatomy up and along the jaw, across -

Stay focused, George thinks and snaps his head back down.

He clears his throat, 'Dream...' His voice drags the name out, brainstorming anything to ask.

'George...' Dream mimics George's lazy tone and lengthening of the syllable.

'What have you been up to today?'

George doesn't look up, but can hear the smile in Dream's voice as he replies, 'Um... I - Well I was up late last night doing a little painting... as I'm sure you've seen.'

George's face reddens as he keeps his eyes glued to the ground. He's grateful that Dream continues on swiftly.

'I couldn't really get back to sleep then - things on my mind.' George feels Dream's gaze piercing him, yet he's unable to look up. 'Consequently, I slept in pretty late and... I dunno. Before I knew it, it was six o clock.'

There's a brief pause before he adds, 'how about you?'

Dream swerves them both off of the path and onto pebbles which coat the outside of the walled chapel garden. The stones crunch under their feet as Dream leads them away from the streetlights and into the darkness, buildings transforming into trees on the opposite side of the wall.

'Me?' George repeats, his eyes scanning where he steps prematurely to prevent himself slipping on the uneven ground texture. 'Um... I've been working all day - some of us have real jobs, Dream,' he adds playfully. 'Actually... you could have a job... you've never told me.'

He waits expectantly for a response, but is met by silence, unsurprisingly.

'I, uh...' George continues when the quietude starts to feel increasingly awkward. 'Then before I caught the bus to come here, I went on the computer for a second and called my mum.'

Dream murmurs under his breath with a nod, 'yeah, I knew about that last bit.'

George looks up at Dream's face, much less visible with the dimming lighting.

'What?'

Dream looks away and for the first time, George sees his ears tint red, the colour quickly spreads to his cheeks. George struggles to catch the change, but the light left from the street highlights his face just enough.

'You knew I called my mum?' George asks.

Dream nods, running his free hand across his brow.

'How?' George says, the familiar feeling of dread gathering in his stomach.

Dream doesn't reply, instead brings his hand down to fidget with the zip of his coat. The metal hits the fabric as his fingers twiddle the zipper, but George blocks out the movement.

'Dream?'

Dream turns his head with a sheepish expression and tilts his head to the side.

'I... I have it set up so when your webcam turns on I get a notification,' he winces, his eyes crinkling as if scared to see George's reaction.

George's palm consciously slacks and detaches from holding Dream's.

'I clicked on your call earlier, but I saw it was a private thing between you and your mum so I clicked off straight away,' Dream rushes out, his newly freed hand jumping up and holding onto George's bicep. George shakes his shoulder to free his arm from Dream and stops his walk to step further away from the artist.

'Oh, how sweet of you,' George snarks sarcastically, cringing when his voice comes out fearful and small, giving away his emotions.

Dream turns his body, but doesn't enter a foot in the distance George had put between them.

'Please don't be mad.'