Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

Chapter 4: Trust and Talk

“So, ah… I did say let’s have a talk, but I actually can’t think of anything. Is there anything you want to ask?” John said awkwardly.

The scene shouldn’t have been that awkward. Both John and Prota were sitting at the dining table, holding cups of hot chocolate. It was something new to Prota, but given how much she’d enjoyed chocolate, she’d surely enjoy this as well. The open window allowed the spring air to float in and cool the room, but John was anything but calm. How did one approach a conversation when the other person barely spoke? It was hard enough to figure out how to start the whole thing, but Prota, being non-verbal, didn’t help.

More than that, it was nearly impossible to tell how Prota felt. Now that he thought about it, John found it somewhat concerning that Prota’s facial expression never changed. As he’d noticed earlier, it was always a flat monotone, her mouth never curving upwards into a smile or downwards into a frown. It was just… flat, empty, unchanging. He’d assumed that some time would have helped with this, but he’d been wrong.

At the very least, her body was relatively normal. She was small, her height taking her to around John’s chest. Her hair was a soft snow white that tumbled down to her waist, all tangled up since nobody took care of it. A little bit of baby fat, unravished by the malnourishment, was still there, giving her the look of a standard, young child, if not a little on the cute side. She was almost like a porcelain doll.

Overall, it was a lot easier to overlook that empty stare and see a normal, quiet girl. It was for this reason that John was beginning to regret what he’d just done. Pulling a gun, releasing killing intent, threatening guards, those weren’t things a sane, safe person would do. How would she react? If she was as normal as John was pretending she was, then she would be afraid. Nervous. Who was this strange, dangerous man?

But it was obvious that Prota wasn’t a normal child. But to what extent? He didn’t know.

He wasn’t aware of the abuse and suffering Prota had gone through over a year. She’d been beaten, spit on, abused and ignored. This wasn’t her first time seeing weapons or bloodlust, nor was it the first time she’d been in a tight situation. When the sword had been pointed at her, a sort of warmth had washed over her, being put in such a familiar situation. It was almost welcoming to see such a sight again.

And had John fired the gun, she would’ve seen a corpse once again.

“What… is that?” Prota finally said, breaking the silence. She’d barely talked since meeting John, so every time he heard her speak, it was a little surprising. She had a flat, monotone voice that matched her neutral expression. She was soft-spoken, but her manner of speech still reflected that of a child. Hesitant, as if searching for the right words to say, but with a sense of innocence that still didn’t understand the weight words could have.

She was pointing to the area where John kept his revolver in his hoodie.

“Ah. This?” John said, opening his hoodie to revealing the metallic weapon once more. “This is called a gun.”

“...gun?”

“It’s a… how do I put it? It’s, well… I guess it’s a weapon that’s kind of like a crossbow. Do you know what a crossbow is?”

Prota nodded.

“Ah. Well, this is the trigger. When you pull it, a little piece of metal flies out at really fast speeds. If it hits someone, well…”

Prota nodded. “Die.”

John flinched. She seemed way too comfortable saying that. How familiar was this girl with death?

“I… well, yeah. They die.” He seemed guilty, as if he were actually killing a person to provide an example.

“Did you make the… gun?”

“Something like that, yeah,” John said offhandedly. “We can say that.”

“So you are artificer?”

“A what?” John frowned.

“Artificer,” Prota repeated, cocking her head to the side. Did John not know what that was?

“Ah, right, an artificer. Something like that, yeah.” He seemed to be skirting around the question, but Prota didn’t really notice that.

She stared at him curiously. Was he really an artificer? Why would an artificer know how to pull such an intimidation tactic on the royal guards? Well, it wasn’t like it mattered. In reality, Prota had been stalling out a question that she knew she’d have to ask eventually.

“Is John… the hero?”

There was a moment of tense silence, but then, to her surprise, John burst out laughing. It wasn’t the quiet, polite laugh she’d heard him give when he was tending the bar. It was a loud, boisterous laugh, one she’d never heard before. Well, no. That wasn’t true.

Back when he’d first found her. When he’d fought off those drunken men and extended his hand, pulling her out of that dirty pit she’d been living in.

“A hero, huh…? John wiped his eyes. “Am I the hero… no, no. If that was a joke, it was a pretty good one.”

“So… John won’t kill me?” Prota said carefully.

“Kill you? Why would I help you if I wanted to kill you? If I wanted you dead, I would’ve just left you on the streets. I don’t think you would’ve survived much longer.”

Prota flinched. While she’d known that she hadn’t been in good condition, she’d never thought she’d die. She’d assumed she’d just continue to live the way she had. Even though her life sucked, she didn’t want to die just yet. She’d been constantly hanging on by a frayed thread, unable to hang on but unable to let go. But now that she’d been forced to face reality, she realized it. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want that rope to wear down, to be tugged at until it broke.

She wanted to live.

“Don’t worry,” John said, breaking her train of thought. “I’m not gonna, like, throw you back into the streets or something.”

Right. John was someone she could rely on for now, right? Prota tried to calm herself down, not that John could see. To him, she looked the same as always. He sat there, waiting for the next question. He hadn’t really steeled himself for what would come next, though.

“Nn. Then, um… other worlds?”

John’s stiffened, his relaxed composure freezing on his face. “Ah. So we’re getting into those kinds of questions, huh? Well, what am I saying? It’d be weirder if you didn’t ask about that, right?”

He sighed and looked away. Prota waited patiently for him to look back, but she wasn’t ready for what she saw. When he turned around, she saw the look of a tired man who wanted nothing more to sleep, whose heart had been ground over and over, so much so that it might as well not exist, like a sword used to the point that it dulled into a club.

She’d subconsciously known that something felt off about John, and now that she saw him like this, it clicked. This was him. The real him. Even though he looked incredibly fatigued, this was the look that appeared the most natural on him. Everything else felt… off.

His face never matched his eyes. Children are generally good at telling when someone is genuine or not, because they tend to look at the eyes rather than the face. Of course, it’s easy to fool them, but inside, they can distinguish between someone truly happy and someone who’s not. The eyes give away quite a lot.

And now, right in this moment, John’s face matched his eyes. An empty void.

“Ah… I’m sorry, Prota,” John said, looking down. “I can’t answer that question right now. Maybe someday, ok?”

The look on John was so pitiful that she didn’t even care about the answer. She wanted to reach out and ask if he was ok, but before she could do this, he sighed and regained his composure.

“Look. I can tell you that, yes, I do come from another world. But that’s as far as I go. Alright?”

A small smile reappeared on his face, and Prota almost relaxed. The smile was disarming. He seemed so… normal. But she couldn’t forget about the look she’d seen. John’s eyes were still empty. Just like they’d always been.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“Mm… No,” Prota said, shaking her head. That was a lie. She had a lot of questions left, of course. It was just that he probably wouldn’t answer any of them.

Where did John come from? Why was he manaless? How had he been so scary? What were these “other worlds” he spoke of? Why did he-

Oh. Well, that was something she could ask.

“Mm.”

John stopped and turned back. “Huh? One more?”

Prota nodded. “Um…” she hesitated, looking away.

John waited patiently, but he could tell she was having a hard time getting the question out. She fidgeted around, clearly nervous, but then finally choked it out.

“Why?”

“Uh… what?

Prota just looked at him. Her face was blank as always, but there was a sort of pleading look in her eyes, a look that conveyed something words could never do. He understood.

“I thought we went over this,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that deep, Prota. There’s no hidden meaning behind it.”

He got up and walked over to the window, looking out into the sunset. He continued to talk, facing away from Prota.

“It’s weird, though. I don’t just go and find orphans to rescue or anything. It’s weird, it’s a lot of work, and I’m just not really- ah, I’m not making any sense. Look, it’s nothing special, ok?”

He sighed, taking a sip of his drink before carrying on.

“Initially, I went out because I thought a ‘demon’ was something interesting to look into. It wasn’t like I knew who you were or anything. I’m gonna be honest; I wasn’t going to keep you for this long. I was just gonna ask you a few things, get you some help and send you back out. But, well, I didn’t, right?”

He snorted and turned around, sitting on the bed as he faced Prota. “Your name was the first thing. Prota. It’s kinda an odd name… I think? But it means a lot more to me than you might think.”

Another finger came up. “Two. You reminded me of someone. She was like a little sister to me.” His tone became a bit bitter, but he went on. “I lost her. Nothing I can do about it now. I’ll never see her again. So, I guess… maybe I thought I could fill that void with you. Something cheesy like that.”

John’s face temporarily relapsed back into that of fatigue before he fixed himself.

“Third. I told you that you remind me of someone, right? I’m not talking about that other girl.” He grimaced as he struggled to get the following words out. “That someone is, well… me.”

Prota cocked her head to the side. What did he mean?

“Look. I’ve done a lot. I’ve been through a lot. I used to have a pretty good life, and then it fell to shit, and I lost everything. Soul, humanity, emotions, whatever you wanna call it, it’s gone. It sounds corny, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. I don’t want all this. I just wanted to be a normal guy.”

His voice was hollowing out, almost becoming desperate. In anyone else, those words would’ve come with tears, but with John… he just kept that blank look on his face. It was almost disturbing.

Suddenly, he looked back out the window and laughed. “Haha. What am I saying? I’m talking to a kid. What do you know?” His words broke the solemn atmosphere, but something had changed. Prota felt that she understood John better, even if it was just by a little bit.

He took a deep breath and turned back. “I spoke way too much. I need to shut up, don’t I? Well, it’s fine. Trust me, Prota. I’m not gonna throw you back into the streets or anything.”

Trust me.

Those words echoed in Prota’s head, leaving her staring at the place John had been in long after he’d left. A few hours later, when John returned, she was still staring.

“Uh… hello? You good there?” he said, waving his hand in front of her face.

That was enough to snap her out of her trance. “Trust…”

John nodded. “Seems like you had enough time to think things through.”

Prota nodded, now looking John directly in the eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was a step towards a relationship that would now begin to form. Before, she’d always averted her gaze, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. Now, she had the courage to look at John confidently and acknowledge him. That was answer enough.

“Well, thinking requires a lot of energy. Come on, let’s eat!” John said, pulling out two large bags from his hoodie. Prota was about to question where they’d come from, seeing as they would never have fit inside, but then lost her train of thought as the smell of the food hit her.

It was the smell of roast meat, butter, cream and potatoes, grilled vegetables and freshly baked bread, fresh fruit juice and sweet pastries, blending into a feast for the nose. Her mouth started watering as she stared at the bags, entranced.

“I get this once, twice a month. Someday I’ll introduce you to the person who makes all this, but for now, let’s just dig in.” Spreading a small feast onto the table, John grinned. “Honestly, this feels like some kinda celebration, but… well, it’s nice to just have a good meal once in a while, I guess.”

As soon as the table was set, Prota dug in like a wolf, savouring every bite. Despite the monotone look on her face, her eyes were shining as she dug into the food John had brought.

It was the beginning of something special.

~~~

“Did you finally make a decision?” Zero said, floating through the air carelessly.

After eating, Prota fell into a deep sleep, leaving John alone with his thoughts. He’d gone down to the empty bar, staring around for a while before sitting down at the bar. Pouring himself a cup of strong liquor, he downed it, hoping to lose himself in the drink, but was disgusted to find that it wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. Despite this, he poured himself another cup, perhaps hoping to restore some of the warmth that was missing within him with booze. It didn’t quite work the way he’d wanted it to. Damn. He hated the taste of alcohol, too.

“What does it look like?”

“So you gave in, right?” Zero grinned.

“Tch. Shut up. I’ll give it a try. That’s all. If I think it’s going to fail… you know what comes next.”

Zero nodded. “Those reasons, though… I’m curious. Was there any one reason in particular? One that was any stronger than the others?”

“As a [Reader], shouldn’t you be able to tell?”

“Uh… nah. It’s much more entertaining hearing it from you. As a [Reader], isn’t it much more fun to read a story if you don’t know what’s going to happen next?”

John stared at his shadowy clone, then sighed and held his face in his hands.

“Of all the partners I get stuck with, I get stuck with myself…”

John waited, annoyed, but it didn’t look like Zero would be leaving any time soon.

“Any one reason… Well, obviously, I would’ve never met her if I hadn’t heard of the rumour. I would’ve never stuck with her if I hadn’t found out her name. It’s just… I don’t know, Zero. What the hell do you want me to say?”

Zero grinned. “That’s a good answer.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Zero stopped floating around randomly and rested in one position as if he were sitting on a chair.

“You know, in all the time we’ve been together, this is the first time you’ve had to make a decision like this.”

“...huh?”

“You, and you alone, know the truth of this world. Stuck, living as a [Character], a [Reader], and a [Writer], all in one. You distance yourself from those you call [Characters] because they’ll never be real, right?”

John remained silent, which was confirmation enough.

“But you want them to be real. You want a companion. A friend. Someone to be around. Someone to care for.”

Zero spun around and smiled.

“Now, you’ve been given an opportunity. You’ve been presented with an open door, and you’re running through. What’s so wrong with that?”

John just looked away.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, asshole. Just listen to me for once. Let’s have a serious conversation for the first time in a long time.”

John turned around, his face back to the blank mask it had been moments before.

“Fine. What do you want to say?”

“Not much more, actually,” Zero sighed. “John. When you first started out, I told you that despite what you may feel, the purpose of all this was to have fun. It’s for you to enjoy yourself. Don’t forget that, ok? You’re in a reader’s dream, living out a story. Thousands, even millions, would kill for a chance to be in your position. So enjoy yourself. Live a life that isn’t just you trapped in a box, waiting to get out.”

The words were meant to be encouraging, but instead, they had the opposite effect. John’s fists began to tremble as his expression grew dark.

“Enjoy myself?” John yelled, unable to contain his anger. “Have fun? You’re telling me to live? With that fucker up there, controlling my every action?”

“That fucking bitch. That [Author], I don’t know who they are, but I know goddamn well what a story is. Good stories require suffering, right? They require character development, they require the cast to trek through challenge after challenge, loss after loss… You think I’m here to ‘have fun’? The last time I ‘had fun,’ I lost everything. I lost friends. I lost a family. I lost everything I ever had, so don’t say a single word, alright? I’m done with your shit.”

“But-”

“No. This isn’t some kind of slice of life or comedy. If that were my life, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. This isn’t the kind of story where everyone gets everything they want. I know exactly what’s coming for me. I know exactly what the [Author] has planned. So don’t even try and tempt me with that bullshit.”

With a final huff, John felt his tense body relax as he wilted in his seat, his outburst finished.

“...sorry. I lost control.”

He got up and put his cup in a sink, then stepped out through the front door. He closed his eyes as he threw his head back, taking a deep breath of the cool night air, a calm breeze cooling him down as it ran across his body.

The stars above shone, covering the sky like a blanket of lights, displaying the cosmos in all of its wonder. The light danced in John’s eyes, a painting he’d never be able to touch, a work of art created by nature. But it wasn’t real. It would never be real. He stared, eyes empty.

Zero remained silent, a sad look in his eyes. “John. You know, you feeling anger is really better than you feeling nothing. That outburst there. That was better than nothing, you know that, right? I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but if it’s you… be sad. Be angry. It’s better than nothing.”

“You know damn well why I don’t feel anymore.”

“...yeah. Yeah, I do.”

John grunted, then headed back inside to wash up and head off to bed. Zero stared after him, slowly fading away.

“Do you?”