"Are you all set in here?" I looked up at the man at the door. I nodded.

"Yeah, Dad, it's all good," I said, pulling shirts out of a cardboard box and stuffing them into my newly-placed dresser. I finished, then collapsed the box and tossed it over onto a pile, inspecting my newly unpacked room. I stifled a yawn.

"Why don't you get some sleep, alright? You've got school tomorrow." I nodded.

"G'night, Dad."
"Night, John."

I got dressed for bed and slipped down, staring up at the ceiling. I tossed and turned for a while. Honestly, I was kinda worried about school. I mean, my last school hadn't been too bad. I'd only had one friend, and got picked on a bit, but nothing too bad. But I considered myself lucky for having it that good then. I mean, I was worried by nature. If you could take the time to point out every star you saw in the sky, I could probably name a concern I have for every single one you pointed out for me.

It couldn't be that bad, I assured myself. Dad kept insisting he was sure I'd meet some new friends. But, that was like, his job or whatever. I sat up and turned on my phone, but Rose was already offline. With her not there, that really left nobody to talk to. I tossed my phone down next to me and lied back down with a flop, sighing and staring up at the ceiling again.

I hadn't been too averse to moving. I mean, there wasn't anything that great at my old school. Just Rose, and she had plenty of other friends. This house was bigger, and the school was supposedly "better." But I didn't know anybody who I would meet.

The problem with me, though, I'd learned, was that I was a bit dependent. I didn't have many friends and I latched onto them. Some I'd even successfully scared away in the past. Not to mention I easily got jealous, and worried myself all over again with my stupid insecurities. No matter who I met I would remind myself that I wasn't cool enough, or smart enough, or friendly enough and they would leave me.

But what I didn't know was I was going to meet someone that would help me quell my insecurities. They totally validated me, and it was nice.

I've never learned not to take risks.

When I was younger, one of the bigger kids bet me I couldn't climb to the top of the playground and stand on the supports on the top. So, I wanted to prove that I was cool or whatever. I should have had some sort of voice of reason that said "Now, wait a minute John. You could easily crack some ribs doing that." But if I did it kept very, very quiet. I climbed to the top easily. Kids gaped as I stood up, putting my hands out to balance. I grinned.

Then I tried to get down. And boy, did I get down. I tumbled off the playground and into the wood chips below. I ended up fracturing my leg and the kid that told me to do it ran for it like he was some sort of felon on the run. I had to spend an hour in the nurses room picking out all the splinter while I waited for my dad to come get me.

I didn't draw any parallels, despite subtle warnings, despite the voice of reason trying to tell me to hold on. I was excited, I wanted to be cool, and I wanted to let myself fall in love.

And damn, I didn't just fall. I got pushed, I hit my head on the slide and fell face first into the dirt. Then got left there for a bit. Then got dragged around in it.

Why don't I start from the beginning? Why don't I tell you about being the fifth lover of Dave Strider.