Chapter Text
Dying is scary, there's no use in denying that. Yet, it happens to us all, an inevitable tragedy: everything born must die.
Yet, you never saw it happening to yourself…
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The first thing you feel, the first little neuron sparking in your little brain, is utter pain.
The kind of pain that takes over every sense you possess, the smell is sharp like iron, like blood. Pins and needles scatter along limbs that have fallen asleep for far too long. A gut-wrenching, all encompassing burn that instantly has sparks shooting across every surface you touch.
The first sound you hear is your own hitching gagging breath as you instinctively roll over and vomit what feels like molten fire that pours relentlessly from a torn and shredded throat.
Tears sting your eyes as you gasp and sob incoherently, bile fighting with a vengeance to return.
Desperately, you gulp back rising saliva, the effort futile in holding back another torrent of vomit from releasing itself from your already empty stomach contents.
You gasp for air, as if drowning in your own stomach contents, your arms uselessly cradle your stomach.
A tender hope for the pain to stop as you feel those same burning tears make their way down your cheeks.
The sharp ringing in your ears though leave little comfort, you know something is wrong, you don’t know how you know, but you’re sure of it. And with that one conscious thought comes the panic, the fear.
Your breaths are getting faster, not from the pain or the looming threat of bile and blood, but the fear of the unknown. The fear that you’re in pain, and you don’t know where you are.
Why does everything hurt? Why are you on the ground? Where are you?
Your ragged breaths only make your throat hurt more, the air feels thin, far too thin— or maybe you just can’t get enough air into your lungs. Ironically, your head feels like a balloon, full of too much air, slowly and painfully inflating and swelling.
A headache you could only imagine in your worst nightmares takes you with such a vengeance that you almost missed the earlier pain. It wasn’t as bad as this, you’re sure of that much.
Despite your eyes being closed, you can feel the world around you spin, the details of where up and down are is only getting murkier with each fastened choking breath you take.
You can’t remember if you pass out, maybe you did, maybe you didn’t.
But suddenly, you’re calmer, when did you move? You’re no longer on your side.
You can feel dry, crusted vomit along your cheek. Your hair matted from your earlier spillage. But you’re eerily calm now, the pain is mostly gone now too, but that awful persistent ringing remains. Your body feels like it has been put through the wringer, but you’re not even sure what happened to cause it in the first place.
Cautiously, you finally crack open bleary eyes. A sharp hiss escaping your lips as the sun temporarily blinds you, reflexively you slam your eyelids close again, a desperate attempt to stop the sudden onslaught of pain.
For a brief moment, that ringing in your ears becomes sharp and hostile, an even sharper pang of pain slams into your very brain.
With a shaking hand, you reach up to cradle the temple of your head, fingers stiffening in hair matted with old vomit. Despite your best efforts to remain still, to prevent more pain, a whimper is ripped from your bloodied throat.
Why does it hurt so much, though? You need to know what’s going on, what if there’s something dangerous? What if you get attacked out here in the unknown? What if you d— the pang to your head is even sharper this time, more brutal than the last. You can’t stop the hiss coming from your lips, even if you tried.
Tentatively, hesitantly, you crack open an eye again. Ready this time for the onslaught of light that greets your retina, but still you flinch. Your pounding headache, only seemingly doubling the effect.
Slowly, and rather reluctantly, you adjust.
Silhouetted shapes slowly gain detail as you recognize a cloudy blue sky overhead. Howls and crickets fill the silence once inhabited by ringing. You hear wind whistle through rattling leaves overhead, and for a moment you're struck by the surrounding beauty.
The pain is quickly fading as you orient yourself with your newfound environment. You’re still not quite sure where you are, but you can recognize nature and forestry from anywhere.
With a shaking arm, you slowly heave your weight upwards. Only to nearly double over again as the action revolts your sensitive stomach, bile pooling in your throat like a guaranteed threat as you gasp again for air.
You're still again, quickly learning stiffness and silence settles the unyielding pain.
Much more slowly again, you push yourself upwards into a sitting position, your breath hitching before burping as you feel your stomach growl once more warningly.
This time, however, you ignore it. You have more pressing concerns still; like where the fuck are you?!
Your wide eyes scan the greenery much more attentively this time, a feeling of unease and surrealness overtaking your every thought. The grass you're laid upon is long and lush, a few trees scattered in the field you had awoken in, but the most breathtaking sight before you is the massive tree.
It’s unlike any tree you’ve ever seen before.
Faintly you remember the buzz of computers, sneakers skidding across tiled floors, and the space filled with the chatter of children and scraping chairs.
Someone is beside you, they feel familiar, but for the life of you their face remains a blur even as their small childish hand points to the screen. “That’s the tallest tree in the world”, you hear a gasp, your head turning back to the buzzing fluorescent screen to take in the photograph so brazenly displayed. It’s thin, red wood bright against a morning sun, you feel yourself almost enraptured with the imagery before you.
And, yet... you feel this tree is easily much bigger and taller than that image you saw oh so long ago…
A need deep inside of you demands a closer inspection, to understand this behemoth of a tree before you.
So, with every ounce of strength and energy you’ve procured, you force your flimsy legs to obey. Pushing shaking arms past their limits to settle on even shakier knees.
Again, you push, desperate to take a step— but you trip. The grass rushes around you, your stomach is screaming its protest, and you’re sure you’re about to eat shit.
But, you don’t.
Gentle hands secure your biceps, steadying you on your feet. Yet, your heart stops, a cold fear washing over you because you swear to god just a moment ago you were alone in this field. So, when…?
“My apologies”, comes a voice far too tender to be a stranger, yet it holds no familiarity to you, “I meant to be here before you awoke.”
The fear has yet to cease, but you cannot deny the way it subsides as this stranger helps you to sit back down, far too carefully for someone with ill intent.
Curiously, you force your neck to crane upwards, to take in this person who has suddenly appeared to help you. Again, you feel no sense of familiarity as you take in an older man before you.
His skin is rough and darkened with the sun, yet his glimmering and far too bright green eyes hold no malice, only concern as he asks far too softly, “How are you feeling?”
You want to answer, but you’re enraptured by the branches and leaves that frame his head.
Are they a crown or some fancy headpiece? You can’t see though how they’re being held so steadily in place, your eyes search for a wire or something to explain this lack of physics but find nothing.
You feel panic spike in your system once more, this unease caused by such an uncanny valley appearance.
The silence stretches as you desperately try to ascertain this man's intentions or level of threat to yourself, while his features only grow tighter with concern. His hands leave your bicep, one travelling to the side of your head where your hair is still matted with vomit, “Are you—” you violently flinch away from his touch.
He stops mid-motion, eyes widening as he seems to realize you’re afraid.
Of him.
Hesitantly, he pulls further away, creating an acceptable distance between you two as he settles into his own sitting position across from your own. Quietly, he averts his gaze, brows only further knitted with worry as he mulls this sudden development.
Finally, he looks back at you, and almost ashamedly murmurs, “Forgive me, I forget how… human interactions are supposed to go.” The way he says human seems to have him cringe, as if the word itself is unfamiliar on his tongue.
This detail lingers in your mind, stands out with an alarming unease that only seems to grow within his presence.
Finally, you find your voice, “Who—” you cough violently, a hand instinctively covering your mouth as your shoulders rise with each jerking motion. You weren’t ready for how rough your voice would sound, it cracks with every syllable, and you can’t seem to bring yourself to speak louder than a whisper, but still you push on, “W-Who… are you…?”
The man looks surprised you’re already able to speak, but slowly his features morph back into that gentle and kind smile, “I am many things.”
He lifts a hand as a chirping bird swoops down to perch upon his finger like some Disney princess. His smile only becoming softer as he admires the little thing that begins to groom itself ever so carefully upon him, “Some call me life itself, or even the flow of time.”
He raises his hand, giving the small tweeting bird a push to soar higher as he continues, turning his piercing gaze back to you, “but most call me The Millennial Tree.”
You just stare. And stare. Maybe even blink.
You’re not sure when you begin laughing, the sound is broken and delirious with pain and hunger, but you can’t seem to stop the cackles that tear their way through your ravaged throat.
Staying upright is a tedious task, instead you bend over yourself, your laughter an unstoppable uproar as tears spring to your eyes.
The man before you only tilts his head, confusion evident upon his face as he tenderly asks, “What’s so funny, young one?”
Gingerly, you wipe away a tear, peering back up at the man before you as you whisper through giggles, “S-Sorry it’s just… Wow, I’ve never met a cosplayer so dedicated to a role-play, you know?”
Speaking is much easier now, maybe because you finally found something normal to latch onto amongst the insanity that you could call your morning.
Curiously, you tilt your head, again searching for that blasted wire you know must be holding up such an elaborate headpiece, “How’d you get that crown thing to stay up? I know some cosplayers use glue or wires, but I can’t see any mats or attached pieces.”
The man's brow furrow, his concern and confusion only seemingly amplifying as he carefully asks, “What is this cosplay you speak of?”
You can’t help but roll your eyes, your arms crossing over your chest as you bluntly tell him, “You can stop the act, I’m not interested in” you turn only to broadly gesture at his entire being with a raised brow, “well, whatever this is.”
Again, you push yourself to your feet, the effort strangely much easier than it had been a few minutes ago.
Still, the man's eyes widen in alarm as he shoots to his feet, hovering almost like some overprotective parent but hesitating to touch you again, “Please, you shouldn’t strain your body so soon, young one!”
You huff, frustration making itself evident as you stagger unsurely to a swaying stand.
Despite how uneven you still feel, you turn to this “Millennial Tree” or whatever he wants to call himself with sharp anger, “I’m not some young one! Stop infantilizing me, I’m a grown ass adult!”
He stands rigid before you, face scrunched almost uncomfortably with clear concern as he again, almost desperately, tries to reassure you and explain himself.
As if somehow you just didn’t understand him the first time. “Again, I am sorry, but—”
You cut him off, already done with whatever bullshit he might be spewing, “Look, I don’t care. Clearly, I had a rough night or something but now” You spread your arms, gesturing at everything around you before flipping both your hands into middle fingers which you aggressively shove in every direction as some feeble attempt at an outlet, “I am more than ready to go home. So, would you be oh so kind to direct me to the nearest bus stop?”
Again, you can’t understand why he looks so lost and confused, but you chalk it up to him staying in character.
“I…” He seems unsure what to say, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this entire interaction was stressing him out.
However, you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You had a rough night, and now you wanted to go home. Not entertain some older man you likely met at a bar with whatever fantasy he wanted to act out the night before.
With a tired huff, you turned on your heel, bitterly murmuring, “fine, whatever, I’ll figure it out myself.”
You made it about a step, before the man shouted, “Wait!” You didn’t have time to react as again, you felt yourself almost violently plummet to the ground, that familiar pain that originated from your stomach, shooting throughout your entire being.
For a moment, you almost felt embarrassed that you were, again, about to eat shit in front of this total stranger and possible creep.
Until, a thick branch shot up from the ground and carefully curled around you, cradling your figure in order to stop your sudden fall entirely.
And, again, you just blinked.
“What.”