Stalker // DNF

35: What?

The faint sounds of sirens running around the city and the variable volumes of chatter from surrounding conversations tickle George's ears. But nothing distracts him from the man standing in front of him, the man he'd promised to cut ties with.

Dream steps backwards, blinking harshly and ripping his gaze away.

'Fuck, George. Why do you have to make this so hard?'

George is hit with a ray of confusion at the increase in sound and the sudden despair heard in Dream's voice, along with his puzzlement at the artist's sudden outburst.

'Sorry?'

He hears a siren approach their street, George ignores it despite being irritated at its loud intensity, consequently making it harder for him to hear Dream's words.

'George, I -' Dream trails into silence, his entire face pale and difficult to read.

George steps forward to revoke the stride Dream had taken back, wondering if the nearing sirens is the reason he didn't hear the painter finish is sentence.

'Dream, are you okay? Have I done something?'

The sudden change in atmosphere, out of seemingly nowhere, injects a dose of anxiety into George's bloodstream.

Dream doesn't reply, instead takes a step back again and turns his body to face the street.

George follows the direction of his gaze, the artist's eyes tracing the police car that's storming down the street in the distance.

'Dream?'

The car swerves through traffic, most vehicles having moved to perch on the pavement to create space. Bright lights flash from its roof, coating the street in electric blue.

George looks back at Dream, why is he acting so strange?

When he looks back down the road, the police car is much nearer and slowing down, it's dangerous speed transitioning to a reasonable pace before it comes to a stop, just in front of Dream's apartment.

As George watches the alteration in pace and sees where the car parked, his eyebrows raise in surprise. He looks through the windows, catching sight of officers he isn't familiar with.

Dream's back stays turned to George and they both watch as two officers hop out of the car, muttering to each other as they meet by the bonnet. Hushed voices pair with frantic hand gestures before their eyes dart to Dream and George.

What the hell is going on?

The officers begin walking towards the pair, causing George's uplifted eyebrows to furrow in added confusion.

Did the search warrant get approved? Were they here to search Dream's flat? Or was their visit unrelated to George?

He steps away from the wall, moving towards the officers and clearing his throat to speak with the hopes to clear his uncertainty.

Before he has a chance to get his words out, one of the police begins speaking as she nears George, moving her hands to her waist to unhook her handcuffs.

'George Davidson, you're under arrest for the stalking of at least 5 victims.'

His eyes go wide, he freezes.

What?

'I'm now going to inform you of your rights. Anything you say or do can be used against you in the court of law...' the officer's voice fades until all George can hear is a piercing ringing in his ears and he feels his hands being pulled to his front. The metal handcuffs are fastened over his wrists and he allows it all to happen, shock making it hard to decipher what's going on.

He brings his head up, the blaring sirens unbearably adding to the ringing in his mind.

He meets Dream's gaze, the painter's eyes now finally looking at him with the same expression on his face. George stares, now seeing his hint of a frown and his down turned eyes with fresh pupils; guilt.

He's pulled away from the wall, the officer pushing on his back to guide him nearer to the road. He stumbles, confused, so very confused.

Sound becomes even more distorted as he's nudged nearer to the sirens, people stopping in the street to allow him and the officers through.

What... what?

His minds struggles to keep up and absorb what's going on. What is going on?!

They arrive at the door of the car, already held open by the other officer. George doesn't have any time to say a word before he's pushed into the backseat, hard cushion stifling his fall.

The door is slammed closed behind him and he looks through the glass to see a worried expression on the officers' faces as they mumble something George can't hear. They point down the street and George turns to see a pair of guys caught up in a fight, one punching another against the wall. A small crowd is gathered around the scene, blocking George's view of the landing punches.

He doesn't care. With everything going on, he couldn't care less.

He turns back, catching both officers sprinting off towards the men, one stopping briefly to lock the car. Once they clear from the window, Dream is revealed from his previous position of being hidden by the officers.

He stands still with his nails digging into his palms. When George comes into view, he steps forward, looking over his shoulder to see the police dealing with the brawling men.

The sorrowful look has dissolved from his face, leaving remnants of guilt and more expressions that anger George from him not being able to read.

Dream stops in front of the window, leaning down slightly so his face lies just above the gap at the top of the glass, which is allowing in a rush of wind.

George stares, sentences clashing in his head. Each emotion wanting to scream something different at the man.

'What did you do?' he manages to croak, barely hearing himself over the ringing in his ears.

'Oh don't look all hurt - you were going to do the exact same thing to me.'