The Heroes We Weren't

Chapter 5 - The Definition Of Tasteless

Hyun-Soo was seated on the motel bed, with an ice pack pressed against his bruised cheekbone. He had stayed silent for quite some time, and I couldn't blame him for it.

I had blurted out everything I knew about the dream world; how I had gotten the job, what my first and second mission had been and what consequences they had brought. I hadn't left anything out - my explanation reached from my first hand shake with Mr. Johnson to my last meeting with the fortune teller's husband.

And, of course, I had filled him in on his own role in the dream world; just another sleeping soul - but one that could occasionally speak. Lastly I had explained to him about his bruises.

And so I didn't blame him for staying silent for so long.

"It's crazy." He eventually said. "Absurd."

"Well it's either this or you're sick." I shrugged. "There are in fact diseases that bring about bruises without any outer cause."

He slowly lowered his ice pack.

"Sorry," I blurted out, "but how else would you explain this?"

He threw the pack to the side, leant his back down to rest on the bed and covered his eyes.

"I do," he mumbled reluctantly, "I do believe you."

Well that was one step in the right direction of finally having someone to discuss my difficulties with.

"What I don't get is why I'm involved." He sighed. "I'm not the one who naively signed a contract for a job I knew nothing about."

Remark. Snarky one.

I would've thrown him out head first, hadn't he been so awfully right in making such a judgmental comment. He sat himself back up to face me again. A glimpse of confidence sparked in his eyes - as if he had just come up with the best of plans.

"Maybe you could stop?" He asked.

"I told you," I brushed my hair away from my neck to reveal the scar, "the only way to stop is to break the tin soldier. Only problem is - it's connected to me."

His gaze never reached my neck, it remained by my eyes.

"No, I mean, maybe you could stop dreaming about me?"

Taken aback. We weren't here to solve the triangle that was me, the tin figure and the Top Company of Devil-Land; we were here to get him out of the story. To erase the fact that he had saved me twice and to replace such scenes with blank pages.

He wanted out.

"Let's face it," he said, ice pack to cheekbone, "I must have delivered you pizza in the past, you found me attractive and so you dreamt about me." He shrugged. "I'm alright with that, but your delusional dreams are, quite literally, a slap to the face."

"I would gladly go about doing this job on my own," I lied, "but in the dream world, it's like you're following me around, so you're bound to get hurt."

"Why?"

"Because you get in the way of blows meant for me."

"No I mean, why would I be following you around?" He narrowed his eyes, "In a world where I could go anywhere and meet anyone, why would I choose to continuously hang around you?"

Dear members of Felicity-town, as the president of my own mind, I hereby claim our dictionaries to be changed as follows:

Tasteless (adj). 1. A tasteless remark 2. Hyun-Soo.

Shook my head, came back to my senses.

"In a world where you could be anything, you're still the pizza guy." I hissed. "Were I not to bring you with me on my adventure, you'd be knocking doors all night."