I Am (Not) Your Hero

7

At some point in Miseal's life, he had begun to believe his own rumors. And when that happened he made a simple trip.

She doesn't like me," Misael complained.

His friend narrowed his eyes. "Oh boo boo. You're ripped, super strong, handsome, and rich. Let me get the world's tiniest violin cued up for ya," he rubbed his fingers together.

Misael rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. He glanced out the window, narrowing his eyes. Phineas was nice enough, but he was a scum bag. An obvious one, anyway. He'd graduated 15 years ago, but he was the only one who hadn't gotten the memo. Phineas did everything for an image that he didn't even have.

"I mean how do you still look so young," Phineas complained, pouring his sugar into his coffee awkwardly.

Misael shrugged, "How's your wife?"

Phineas waved his hands dismissively. It was Misael's opinion that Phineas truly believed he'd been slighted, that he was meant to have been someone by now. But he wasn't. And it wasn't some slight, some oversight. But the truth was, Phineas had spent the time he had crafting an image in his own eyes instead of becoming what he wanted. Misael found him to be an amusing and pitiful creature.

Misael stared at his coffee until it began to bubble. He wondered how insignificant Phineas would feel if he knew the truth. That he was as powerful as Phineas had always wanted to be.

Phineas wanted to be a big shot. And Misael looked forward to coming to his funeral and stating: He was no big shot, but he was a decent guy. And everyone would know which of those two things was true. The room would share a look, and people would disperse. he'd hear them in their cars as they drove off.

Why did we even go? No one even likes him?

I dunno, my cousin was there I couldn't not.

Misael smiled at that. Phineas eyed the young waitress. She'd think he was somebody.

Misael looked away. "Why do I even talk to you?"

Phineas snorted, scribbling his number on the receipt. "I think being around me makes you feel better about yourself," he mused.

Misael raised his brows, shocked at his self-awareness. "Hm. About this girl. She hates me."

Phineas scoffed, and leaned back, brushing his hand through his rapidly thinning hair.

"And? Look at you? Move on to someone else." Phineas mumbled as the waitress returned the receipt.

"I want her," Misael leaned over, pausing as he heard a commotion. Police had stopped pretending to answer calls, instead just waiting on him. Misael had no doubt that he was everything Phineas wanted to be. He made a profound impact on the world, after all. Even after he died, they would never forget his name. Smite would live on forever, echoing through the hallowed halls of time for eternity. And Phineas...

Someone would bring flowers. Surely.

Someone. Perhaps not his wife who he frequently cheated on, or his children who he never saw, or his mother who he'd abandoned in old age, or his siblings who he'd forsaken, or the countless young women whose lives he'd ruined--

But surely. Someone.

"I want her to look at me," Misael murmured. "I want her to change her mind about me. To see me like everyone else. Like a good man."

Phineas chuckled boisterously and slammed down a 20 on the table. Misael wondered if he thought that was a hefty amount?

"Good? Listen, Misael, how long have I known you?"

"10 years," He smiled.

Phineas nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, before wincing, looking at it, and putting it down with a shake of his head. "Can I be honest with you?" Phineas asked, not waiting for an answer to continue his summation. "You're not good because you like to be good. You're good because you like the way it looks, not the way it feels."

Misael narrowed his eyes as Phineas continued, oblivious to the danger he was in as he sipped his coffee once more with a grimace.

"I've never seen you do things out of the kindness of your heart, it's just on autopilot. I guess what I'm saying is: You and me, we're a lot alike."

Phineas finally met his lavender eyes with a smile, enhancing the lines around his eyes he always denied existing. "You're a fraud, Misael. You do what you do because you like when people like you."

Misael sighed and shook his head. "And remind me again why we're friends."

Phineas smirked behind his cup. "Because I look as pathetic as you feel."

Misael scoffed. "It's always good to see you, Phineas," He murmured, staring at his arm. Phineas jumped, smacking his arm in the spot where Misael's gaze had been fixed.

"Ow," Phineas jumped. "What was that?"

Misael grinned and put his hands in his pockets. "Mosquito probably. Same time next year?"

Phineas chuckled. "I'll bring my violin next time."

Misael took his leave. beginning with some hero work. It was time. With the amount of power he'd accumulated, the single-man image no longer suited him. He'd need to show the public he wasn't a dictator. That he cared about people.

And he had a little star at home that may have been able to help with that. He grinned, hearing a commotion. He'd stop by, put a stop to it, and go enjoy his Star.