“Listen,” Fern says. “If I wanna sit in some dirt, I’m gonna sit in some dirt. Don’t try to stop me.”
“Okay, dude,” Finn replies. “I wasn’t, like, thinking about stopping you in the first place, but yeah, I won’t.”
“Good. Thank you.” Fern burrows deeper into the dirt. He sighs. “Yeah, that’s nice.”
“So,” Finn says after a moment, “is this, like, a plant thing? Because you’re a plant person?”
“No,” Fern says. He pauses. “Yes.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Yeah. It is.”
There’s another moment where neither of them speaks. Fern’s even deeper in the dirt now, brown clumps of earth up to his hips, and Finn tries to keep his attention on the sunset. But it’s hard. Fern’s sinking into the dirt. Even if this is a normal plant thing or whatever, it’s a whole-ass person sinking into the dirt. He ends up watching Fern sink into the ground, dirt swallowing his abdomen, elbows, chest.
“Uh, Fern?” he says, seeing the dirt come up to Fern’s neck now. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, bud,” Fern says. “Nah.”
“Fern, you’re still sinking. Fern!”
Fern shushes him. “It’s okay, Finn,” he says, only his face visible now. “It’s okay. Just let it happen.”
“But—”
“It’s a plant thing, remember?” Fern says, and then the earth covers him up and swallows him whole.