The town I had freshly moved from was nice and sunny the day I left. Halfway through the ride, I watched the baby-blue sky phase into a cloudier grey.

I was stacking my boxes in my new bedroom when I noticed a leaf blowing in due to the window being open. I walked over and peeked down. If I jumped from this height, I would've sustained mild injuries.

There was a singular oak tree right across that was as tall as the window. The grass below was a freshly bleached blonde and nearly disintegrating into powder from the lack of moisture. I then examined the walls of my room and grimaced at the webs in the corners. No one had been in this house for a long time.

"Eren, you have more boxes!" my mom called from the entrance. I sighed, turning around to make my way down the stairs again. If there was a part of the house I was most familiar with so far, it would be the stairs and not my own room.

My sister, Mikasa's room was directly below mine. She was already unboxing her belongings, and she had more things. On the other hand, I was encumbered by my unenthusiasm to accept another home. My family must have moved about 6 times by now. It stunted my sense of stability. Each time, I became increasingly reckless with my actions knowing that any enemies I might have made will not find me once I move to a new address.

I was 20 and still unemployed. I did not have the people skills for retail work, I was stubborn and not malleable enough for factory work, and I did not have the creativity nor ambition to carve my own path to success. I was plain, not particularly skilled in anything. Like an all-in-one shampoo.

When I went outside to take another box from the moving truck, the thin-cold air stung the inside of my nose. That was a big contrast from my previous town, which never received snow or did so much as drop below a comfortable temperature. As I went back inside, I glimpsed at the vegetation around the neighborhood. It was only around our house where the green began to die. I wondered to myself if mom and dad were going to bother reviving this carcass of a piece of land.

I was relieved that the stairs didn't creak unless I applied tremendous pressure. The lights all emitted an ugly yellow. When I complained to my dad, he promised he would replace them with new and better bulbs as soon as possible. He understood how important light was to me. Poor lighting would create ugly contours on my face, and I always preferred to look in the mirror and never be disappointed. I think that it is always out of a very painful rejection, that the self-conscious are born. I was no different.

There was a boy, 4 years ago. I loved him. It was with him that I ended up cheating on a partner with. Knowing it was incredibly wrong, we kept at it while the same guilt ate at both of us. I think it completely devoured him first, because one morning I recieved a text from him that said:

"Eren. We need to talk."

Nothing good ever comes after a sentence like that. He explained to me that I took too long to choose him. We both did something unforgivable. The relationship that we had was a mistake, and had to be abolished. The following weeks I spent trying to charm him back into loving me were futile. He saw no more good in us.

Here I am now, chronically ill with guilt and regret. Deep down, a part of me is convinced that he left me because I was ugly. That part of me is what drove me to obsess over how much I weighed, how presentable I looked, and things like that.

So I shut off the lights, and as the day turned to night, my bedroom walls absorbed the darkness. I had placed my futon right in the center of the room because all 4 corners were frightening to sleep near. As I closed my eyes, I thought about how the oak tree outside was in lively condition while the grass and bushes around it were dead, and wondered if that was possible. I was ignorant when it came to flora.

Finally going to sleep on a real bed after 8 days of road trip felt amazing.

I laid there in comfort when I suddenly felt thirsty. I got up from my sleeping position and searched the room for my backpack that I brought a water bottle in. It was then that I realized everything was strangely well-lit.

Wasn't it just pitch black?

I moved to look out the window, where the new light poured in from. My eyes were shaken awake, and my breath stuttered. A wooden balcony had somehow been made outside of the window. Attached to the balcony, straight ahead, was a wooden bridge that seemed to lead to the tree. The time of day was a beautiful golden twilight.

I rubbed my eyes, but nothing changed. I was stiff with disbelief. I wanted to see what was on the other side.

I warily climbed over the windowsill and cautiously pressed the ball of my foot onto the balcony. It was, in fact, real. The cold air blew through my thin clothes, triggering every goosebump on my body. The rope that acted as a ledge for the bridge felt freshly made; Smooth, cold, and textured, like a snake.

The wind was challenging my balance. I stopped twice along the way to gather myself. Though this bridge was well-put-together, it was still of wood and rope.

When I reached the other side, I was on a large flat wooden floor that cut right through the oak tree's hair. Among the leaves was a large opening that called me in.

Inside, it was homely. The skylight had bronzed the floor and the branches reaching around it. The leaves that acted as a ceiling provided mild shade. And there was no sun in sight to offend my irises should I look at it directly.

To my right was an impressive hammock, looking able to hold up to five people comfortably. When I squinted, I noticed that there was someone lying in it. An almost androgynous figure because of his slimness, but he was no doubt a man.

I froze at the realization of my trespassing. Whoever this was, I probably stood on his property.

I wanted to apologize directly instead of fleeing. I peeled my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. Words refused to come out at first. "Hello," I called in a pathetic timidness.

His ears proved to be alert and he heard me. From facing away, he turned to acknowledge me. I saw the surprise in his eyes, like I wasn't meant to be here. His hair was obsidian, his eyes onyx. As he laid his head back down, his bangs fell one by one to shield his forehead. His relaxed expression did nothing to soften the sharpness of his features. "How did you come here?" He questioned with a genuineness that put me at ease.

Bravely, I took two steps forward. "I...don't know." I was being honest. I wasn't sure if I was experiencing a vivid dream or a supernatural phenomenon. "I'm sure I went to sleep."

He blinked slowly. "I believe you are asleep." He held out an inviting hand. "Come."

I grew nervous as I approached. His face became clear. In my opinion, he was beautiful. The innocence he regarded me with suggested to me that he might not be aware. When I reached him, he took my hand in his. He was soft as whipped cream. His slightly cold fingers pressed down on various parts of my hand, to get a good feel of it. "I barely believe it," he whispered. "You do exist."

I was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He looked at me. "Did you just move here?"

I swallowed because he was accurate. "This is my first night," I answered.

His eyes never left mine as he appeared to be computing something behind them.

My questions rapidly grew urgent. How is this entire scenario possible?

I looked down at my skin. Nothing abnormal. I pinched a piece of my arm and winced when it hurt.

"I'm very confused," I managed, voice starting to tremble.

The man let go of my hand. The literal next thing I knew, I woke up on my futon with birds chirping outside. Though I always moved slow in the morning, I swiftly leaped up to look out the window. The oak tree was there, but with no floor of any sort cutting through it. The balcony and bridge were gone. All that was there was a lively tree that now stuck out even more than when I first laid eyes on it.