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"Do you think it's wrong to not know things?"
Leona looks at them with one green eye. His other is sealed shut by a scar, and Yuu resists touching it.
"Why are you asking?"
"Because not knowing something," Yuu tosses away a stick poking at their ass, "is considered stupid. And being stupid is considered wrong."
"Then you have your answer." The green eye hides away, and Yuu is left contemplating and lonely. But this is good progress. This is good progress for a broken heart.
Leona shifts on the grass. Sunlight across his chest, splattering on his face like a golden miracle spilled. The sun is behind them. Yuu wonders if they look faceless and forgettable.
They throw away another stick. This one was less pointy.
"It's not a crime."
Sunlight drips. A face revealed. Two green eyes baring into the depths of your heart. It's a mess in there. I want you to see. Please don't look.
Their mouth is dry. Their throat hurts with unshed tears. "What, not knowing anything?"
"Yeah."
A blade of grass blows into his hair. "You just called me stupid and wrong five minutes ago."
"So?" He shifts, and the grass disappears and reappears. It matches his beads.
"I can be stupid and wrong too."
And he was. He was stupid and wrong. Back when skin crackled under his fingers, turning to sand, choking him as much as the others, he was stupid and wrong. Back in sunset-lit desert, when he looked at his sunset-colored nephew and his brightly lit brother, he was stupid and wrong.
Something faceless and forgettable stares back at him. But that would be a lie. They are everything. Anything but. Anything but forgettable.
Seven overblots in the course of a year. Each one survived. Each one added to the mess in their chest that was already broken. He could see that. His gaze was green and golden and then dusted with ink.
They cross their fingers over their knees, gripping another twig. This one is the sharpest of all.
Can you see me?
Yeah.
Oh. That's all I wanted.
I know.
The twig goes slack in their hands. It should be thrown away.
Am I wrong? For wanting that?
Green. A stick so sharp it cuts through eyes and seals them shut.
No.
Then why do I feel like it?
"Stop bothering about the world," he tosses the green, green blade of grass away. "Stop thinking too much."
"How did you know what I was thinking?"
"It's in your face," he says, and goes back to sleep.