I was upset by the way the Supreme had treated the Visionary.
I knew that the religion was fairly new, but when I joined the monks already believed in it, so I never heard them say anything different.
They always told me we would have to wait for the Visionary, the Messiah who would bring peace to the Earth.
I didn't remember what had happened in my life until a week before, when they found me at the doors of the Monastery, but I'd been told I'd been to other places like that, where I'd learnt to read. However, they said it was strange that I didn't know about Jesus Christ, and told me about him. I could see similiarities with Logar.
But when the Visionary arrived, the monks started throwing stuff at him, demeaning him and asking him things he didn't want to do, like stripping naked in front of everyone.
I couldn't have it, so I gave him my robe.
And when the Visionary arrived, he was a boy my age, small and nothing special, with hair half dyed yellow, so that left me very confused.
The first night, I couldn't sleep, and I wondered, 'this is not what a Visionary should look like'.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't think of Logar Iris as the Messiah, but he seemed like someone who would be a very good friend. I liked the way he defied the Supreme's authority. The more I thought about it, I liked his yellow hair too, and the fact that he flipped the bird at a whole room of monks who apparently believed in him.
The day after, when the monks asked him to make a show of his powers, and he failed, I knew he was very upset. I was sad to see him upset like that.
I followed him when he retreated to his room, and I waited a little before I knocked on the door.
"Yes...?" was the reply, spoken in his usual drawl. I had to count to ten before I found the courage to open the door. I was secretely afraid he'd taken off my robe, and that he would be naked.
I had briefly seen him naked before, when the monks had taken away his clothes, and I was trying to forget everything I'd seen.
"Jonath here," I said. "I want to talk."
Logar opened the door. He wasn't wearing shoes, so I noticed for the first time how small he was, compared to me. He was, thankfully, still wearing my robe.
"I need a new shirt," I added sheepishly.
Logar looked at the robe. It looked like a dress on him. "You call this a shirt?"
He sounded very annoyed, as if he was angry that I was taller than him or something. I don't know. I've always thought you can't really be angry at something like DNA.
"I like your dyed hair," I said, since he wasn't saying anything. "Mine is bleached."
"Wait, what?"
"Yes," I started feeling less anxious. I liked to talk about my hair. "The monks have a storage where they keep all things of kinds. I take the peroxide, or really any other of chemical mixture I can find, and use it once a month to bleach my hair. It's not natural."
"But... what is your natural colour?"
"A dark brown," I replied. "Sometimes, in the light, it's more honey or caramel. I can't explain. Look at the eyebrows, they give it away."
"In case you hadn't noticed, you peroxide blond giraffe," Logar said unkindly. "I can't really look at your face unless I bring a stool."
But I noticed that he was trying to look at my eyes, and that he looked a little unnerved.
"I've never seen anyone with hair like that," Logar scoffed after a while. "And your eyebrows look dark brown, almost black."
"Well, you'll have to believe me when my hair starts growing out again," I said.
"I'll help you bleach it," Logar replied critically. It was a start.
He turned around, and threw himself on the mattress he had in his room. "Sorry," he said. "But I'm a little tired today, as you can probably see, since you can look down on me and all that."
I felt self-conscious of my height. I knelt a little on my legs.
I sat on the mattress. I was still very far from him, but I saw his body tense. I didn't really understand him. I didn't want to do anything bad.
"If you'd like," I added, one last chance before I showed myself out the door. "We can talk about something, to get your mind off things."
Logar rolled over on one side. He didn't care about the tunic hitching up his legs. It looked like a dress on him, but a short one. I tried not to think about the fact that he was naked underneath.
"Alright," he said, his eyes glittering in a manic expression. "I want to talk about soccer. I haven't been to a match in a long time."
"Okay."
"When I was a teenager I always went to see my favourite team play. It was the Silkton women team. Going to those games almost made me heterosexual."
He laughed.
"Why?" I asked. "Because the girls were pretty?"
"No, not because the girls were pretty," he replied, irritated. "Because of the dumb men mansplaining the whole game, who talked to your ear throughout the whole match, without letting you look at the field."
"Oh," I replied. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to guess. The only girl I've seen is my mother."
I felt Logar becoming very tense. He looked at his robe, and pulled at it, as if covering his body had something to do with me and my mother.
"What?" he asked, to make sure he had heard correctly.
"Yeah," I shrugged. "They told me the school must have been a private one, an all boys school."
"So you went to school?" Logar asked. I found it an irritating question.
"Yes, they tell me I was good at it," I replied. "But then, I was sent here. Go on. Talk about the game."
"Alright," Logar said. "The team sucked. They kept losing all the matches at first. In a way, it made me feel more connected. I love fucked up things, things that don't work. I wouldn't call it taking pity, because I don't do that, I'm too pitiful myself, but I like disasters with potential."
"I don't," I replied. "I really don't see the appeal in broken things. In broken people."
"Stop talking to me then," Logar joked.
The truth was, I didn't think he looked broken. A little bent here and there, maybe, if he was so sure of it.
"I don't have to find you appealing to talk to you," I replied instead.
Logar smiled. His smile was so bright and so contagious, that I finally saw through his scowling, insufferable mask. I was surprised to see he was very handsome.
"Finally," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"Finally, maybe, I found someone who understands," he explained. "It was hard before. No one understands, not even Percie."