“...The good news is, I don’t belong here!” Rue flashed that familiar sheepish grin, one he wore whenever he was about to say something ★˚ ˖｡⊹—reckless, perhaps is the term for it. Atop the slide, he raised his arms in triumph, sunlight gilding his edges. He dropped down and slid through the chute, his lawf…lafter…laughter echoing in the otherwise empty park.

 

“What do you mean?” I tilted my head, unsure whether I misunderstood belonging, or if it meant nothing to him. Soon, he reached the edge where I stood. “But you’re here, aren’t you?”

 

“Not exactly…” He pushed himself up, then simply said, “I’m dead.”

 

I could only stare as another definition defied me, one I had been certain of. Across the universe, I had seen death take many forms, some even beyond human comprehension, but death itself had always meant one thing: a life concluded. The dead do not move. They do not speak. They do not think, and they certainly do not feel.

 

And yet, there he was.

 

Rue stood there, unmoving, except for the slow rise and fall of his …shoawlders? Shoulders. Eye contact was meant to connect people, but he held mine for too long. I began to wonder if he would ever blink at all. Maybe he never had.

 

“I’m dead,” he declared. The air lingered, as if to insist he was anything but. “I’m dead, Hue.” He urged it like I didn’t understand the word. I did. Of all things in the universe, death was one that remained a constant concept—or so I had believed.

 

I grabbed his hand and pulled it closer. His feengurz (fingers) twitched at the sudden movement, the creases of his skin folding under my grip. His palm felt soft—real.

 

“But how are you so… alive?” Of all the questions I had asked throughout my life, this one felt the most foolish. Alive—.ೃ࿔*༄.°⋆—to exist, to breathe, to be. Right?

 

“You ask too much,” Rue lightheartedly rolled his eyes, then shrugged when I didn’t laugh. “It may look that way, but my wounds don’t bleed, and my heart doesn’t beat. Maybe it’s because you’re an alien that you can see me. No one else on Earth can. Just because you can see me, doesn’t mean I’m meant to be here.” He pulled his hand away, not forcefully, but with conviction.

 

“Oh,” I let out softly, as if I finally understood, but no, I didn’t. Not really. For all my time in the universe, I had never heard anyone feel that way before. I had defined death as grief, as silence, as absence. Yet he, the dead, walked towards the ladder without hesitation, as though nothing had changed. I looked up at him, now atop the slide again. “How is that good?”

 

“It’s good because it means I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with no one to bother me!” He raised his hands once more, claiming the golden sky and everything beneath it.

 

Rue closed his eyes, and the cool breeze passed through him like it knew where to go. Sunlight spilled behind him, resting along his edges like a glowing halo, as though it was meant to embrace only him. His smile widened as he slid, light and unencumbered, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

 

When he reached the ground, his steps wavered for a moment before regaining his footing in the soil. The dirt smeared beneath him, holding his brief stumble like it was usual. Then he turned back to the slide, drawn to it again, as if even gruh… ༄.°⋆—gravity couldn’t convince him to stay still.

 

“If that’s what death looks like,” I wondered aloud, “then what does it mean to be alive?”

 

I heard the gasp slip from him, though he tried to keep himself composed. He sat at the top of the slide, hands fidgeting in his lap, otherwise as still as the emptiness here. His gaze lingered on the horizon, though he knew there was nothing there for him. There was no clarity in the distance, and no meaning was conveyed by the expressive sky. The answer wasn’t found in staring outward, but through glimpsing within.

 

“I guess being alive means…” Rue murmured, turning his face away. His mind is too fragile to bear the memories with his current undead state.“—doing what needs to be done, even when it doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you. Because if you don’t, it’s almost the same as not being here at all.”

 

Earth’s definition of being alive seemed different, I noted to myself. Though I wasn’t sure whether to question his experience or my own understanding.

 

After a brief moment, Rue slid down the slide, just as he did earlier. He brushed the dust from his clothes, then ran his fingers through his heyre (hair), or at least I think that’s what it’s called. He glanced around, uncertain what to do next, until his eyes found mine, and he offered that same sheepish smile again.

 

“Though you cast no shadow, daylight still glows around you—you still belong here,” I blurted out. I had meant to gather my thoughts first, but catching that small glimpse of his smile felt like an answer. “Simply being is enough.”

 

Rue pouted. His hands slipped into his pockets—nudging a stone with the tip of his shoe. “It doesn’t really feel like I'm here, though.”

 

“But you are,” I blatantly said, and he let out a quiet chuckle.

 

“And what about you, hmm? You’re an alien, Hue-Mann. You're not even supposed to be here.” He stood and turned away—something he often did when he didn’t want attention, I noticed—pacing as if he had somewhere to be, though really he could just never stay still. Rue had always pretended not to care; he looked like he’d walk away, but he always came back anyway. “Yet here you are… Why?”

 

“Just to learn more about the world, like everyone else. It’s all we can really do here, I suppose,” I said with a smile, teasing against his pout. “Why? Do you want me to leave?”

 

He turned to me quickly, as if I might actually do it. Looking at me like it could be the last. “Are you?”

 

“There’s still so much to know, like… What is a woond and a hart?” I stared at him, blinking in confusion, as my sincere question was met with sudden, boisterous laughter. I knew it was my pronunciation, but it could not have been that bad.

 

“Well,” he tried to start, but broke into chuckles again, making me groan. Eventually, he steadied himself and said, “Why don’t you come slide with me?”

 

I watched Rue do it many times, but I still didn’t understand how it worked. My shadow stretched past the edge of the slide, like it belonged somewhere I couldn’t follow. I tried to sit down properly, awkward and uncertain, but my legs slipped, and suddenly I was tumbling, hitting the ground hard.

 

Rue’s laughter echoed in the distance, but all I cared about was the sharp sting in my palm. I turned it over, dirty, scraped, and saw blood.

 

“Oh, ⋆˚⩩⸝.ᐟ꩜!”