Stalker // DNF

31: Change

Heavy pounding rattling his front door wakes George from his slumber. He begins to drift into consciousness, observing morning sunshine creeping in through cracks in his blinds.

When the knocking doesn't cease, he groggily pushes himself up to a seated position on his mattress, wiping away remnants of sleep from the corners of his eyes.

In a half-awake state, he drags himself to his feet to stumble through his room toward his front door, the knocking having temporarily paused.

He nears the door and grabs his sweatshirt he'd carelessly chucked on the sofa last night, wrapping it around his body as the duvet is no longer protecting him of the early morning chill.

He reaches the door and unlocks the chain to pull it open, brighter light flooding into his apartment and causing his eyes to squint and adjust.

'Finally - you took your time, honey,' he hears his mum's high pitched voice before his vision fully returns. He rubs his eyes again and feels his body being shifted out of the way for his mum to storm in, latching the door shut behind her.

'I know I'm a bit earlier than I said, but I was walking past the bakers and they had fresh bread out - I thought it would be nice for us to have breakfast together,' his mum rambles. George turns to find her collapsing a paper bag onto his kitchen counter, reaching inside to pull out a loaf of bread. 'Where do you keep your chopping board again?'

George stares at her, the remaining fog in his head from his sleep clearing and allowing for his ordinary thoughts to rush in and form.

'Uh... just over here,' he steps forward to grab the board from beside his knife rack, sliding it out from its home and giving it to his mum.

'Thank you,' she smiles, turning back to place the bread on the board. 'I'm assuming you've just woken up? Based on your state?'

George sighs, 'Yeah, yeah... just got up.'

He looks at the back of his mothers' head, recalling their phone conversation from yesterday. The conversation which had completely fallen out of his mind as soon as he caught sight of Dream outside his work.

'I thought you were coming over later?' He says, knowing he would have forgotten and probably been asleep anyway.

'Yes, honey, I just said I'm earlier than expected. I haven't had breakfast yet, I thought we'd have it together,' she replies, slicing thick pieces from her loaf. 'Don't worry, I'm just popping in for a quick catch up.'

George shakes his head and leans forward to squeeze his mum's shoulders.

'Don't be silly, stay as long as you like. I just forgot to set an alarm for you, that's all,' he states, bending the truth. 'Just - give me a minute to brush my teeth and stuff.'

He walks toward his bedroom again, swerving just before he meets the door to enter his bathroom. He instantly reaches for his toothbrush, the morning breath apparent in his mouth.

He wets the brush and brings it to his teeth, looking in the mirror and catching sight of his hair, unruly and knotted as he hadn't washed the rain out of it from last night.

Last night.

Oh god.

He squeezes his eyes shut in recollection, remembering the instant regret and shame he'd felt as he reached to turn his webcam off.

Yet, his actions clearly hadn't affected his sleep. He'd fallen into an exhausted coma within seconds of touching his bed-sheets and hadn't awoken once until a few minutes ago.

He scrapes his teeth much harder than necessary, remembering how much of an idiot he'd been.

The more he remembers, the more regret that follows. He spits into the sink, trying to push all the memories out with it.

His toothbrush is nestled back into its holder and he runs his fingers through his hair, fingernails being caught in tangles as he attempts to tame the mane.

He slips back into his room to slide on a pair of socks, trying to keep in as much body heat as possible, before he re-joins his mother in the kitchen.

'I've just toasted a slice each, we can have more then if we're still hungry,' his mum utters, now sitting on a high stool and buttering a slice of toast resting on a plate.

George sits to the side of her, in front of another plate with identical contents. He begins to copy her motion with the butter as he mutters, 'thanks, mum.'

She nods, pushing over a jar of jam nearer to her son.

'Anyway, now I'm hoping you're more awake,' she begins. 'How have you been sweetheart? Me and Dad haven't heard from you half as much recently, is anything the matter?'

George sighs, swapping the butter in his hand for jam. 

'I - I've...' he rakes his mind for an excuse for his poor connection to others in the past weeks. 'Work has been, y'know... hectic and all. I'm sorry, I've just been a bit distracted with it all.'

His mum shakes her head, taking a bite and making sure to swallow it all before replying, 'It's not healthy, George. You look tired, and not just now. When you call, you sound tired - I've seen a change in you.'

She turns to look more pointedly at George, making him suddenly self conscious of the eye bags and pale skin he'd seen in the mirror, despite him having just had the best nights sleep in weeks.

'I'll keep in mind you've just woken up, but I'm worried, George. Truthfully, I wanted to come over today to talk in person with my son, who hasn't visited me in ages.'

Guilt creeps all over George's skin, resisting him to bring the toast to his lips with his sudden drop in appetite.

'I don't want to make you feel bad, dear. I just want you to know you can talk to me if anything is bothering you.'

He nods, not knowing what to say, scared on what to reveal.

'I appreciate it mum. I'm okay, really. I just -' he pauses to gather his thoughts. 'There's just been this one case that's... it's been taking up a lot of my time. I - I think I have it under control.'

His mum knows he can't legally share too much about his cases, so he hopes this will stop her worry and allow for a change in conversation topic.

She looks suspiciously at George for a second before she shrugs her shoulders.

'If you say so. Just get this case sorted so my son talks to me again. Now eat,' she looks pointedly at George's untouched breakfast.

She takes another bite and George reluctantly follows, the toast slipping down this throat and feeling like sandpaper against his food-pipe.

Thankfully, they slip into normal conversation with George's mum catching him up on family gossip and anything he'd missed in the news by not engaging with recent headlines.

Their plates clear quickly and George stands up to place two more slices in the toaster, slipping the loaf back into the paper bag once he's finished. 

As he places the bag back down on the counter, he hears another knock on his door, much more apprehensive and gentle than his mother's had been.

His mum's head jolts towards the sudden interruption.

'Expecting more company?'

George looks curiously at the door as if it could turn transparent and reveal who's standing on the other side.

'Um... no.'

He shuffles over to the door, aware of his mum's eyes on his back. He presses the door handle down again to open the entrance.

George's, now awakened, eyes take no time to adjust to the outside brightness this turn and immediately soak in the presence that had knocked on his door.

The shame, regret and fear all crash like a wave over George's insides as he takes in Dream, his hands pushed into his pockets with a sheepish smile, standing on his doorstop.

'Hi. Is now a bad time?'