FOREWORD: Let me preface this by stating that a few of my previous stories will be transferred/be referred to here, so if you're one of my followers who've noticed my recent activities regarding mass deletion, rest assured of its existence.

This entire fanfic will be the home of most MysMe-related content I've written: past, present, and future. Primarily, I'm doing this in hopes of re-familiarizing with Mystic Messenger after half of year of interacting with only a good friend's videos of it, and maybe return to TSG. Other than that, it's to touch up on old, admittedly rough drafts and improve on them, while putting new spins on old, fun ideas. Sharing it with you guys is the cherry on top.

The MC's name will change depending on the universe.

Chapter ratings will vary, but marked M just to be safe.

DISCLAIMER: Mystic Messenger is the intellectual property of Cheritz. I am merely borrowing their media for entertainment purposes.

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Black, white, no, something isn't right

The trembling fear is more than he can take

Up against his echo in the mirror

.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. There was a shuddering breath.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. Came a soft, resigned sigh, and the scratches of pencil unto paper.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. If time would allow it, they would continue remaining in this standstill.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. If only.

"Young man," the woman at the other side of the table called out, prodding, patient, and oh-so-persistent. "Can you look at me?"

No, he didn't want to, and in fact, he lowered his head further until his chin was digging into his collarbone. He was much better off glancing down at the carpet and the slippers that covered his bony feet, just so he could pretend that he was somewhere else.

"You can hear me, right?"

Tick-tock, tick-tock. Oh, definitely, but why should he pay attention?

Tick-tock, tick-tock. This was an exercise in futility. He just wanted to be left alone.

He could imagine her frowning, eyebrows scrunched up as she attempted to find ways for him to 'open up', which let slip a small smirk unto his face.

Just a bit more. They'd eventually coin him a lost cause thanks to his 'forceful isolation', and he was sure this woman will be the same.

"Saeran."

His head snapped up, and the accompanying crick in his neck sent a small jolt of pain. He was still weak, but the strength of his venomous glare was anything but.

"Don't call me that," he spat, and he only felt sick when the blonde doctor just stared, smiling.

Smiling, with eyes glinting with an emotion he did not dare think on before he snatched his line of sight away, and simply glared at the blinds behind her. It was too familiar, and a heavy feeling started pressing against his chest. Of course they'd try to elicit a response from him. It wasn't because of anything else. It was just to do their damn jobs so they'd get paid properly.

Something inside him was telling him to lash out, because he fucking needed to be alone.

But he didn't.

He knew that they were watching him like some sort of rabid animal, and while he couldn't care less, he didn't appreciate what they did after any sign of aggression. Saeran subconsciously reached out to his left arm, feeling phantom pinpricks of needles that sent goosebumps down his body—

No.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

"You know," the wretched woman began, jolting him out of his thoughts. "It's pretty sunny outside."

He released an aggravated sigh, catching on to her intentions immediately. "This is pointless," he rasped out, voice still scratchy from before.

"Perhaps. But I think it's probably really hot outside," she continued, side-stepping his comment. "It'd be nice if we could get some ice-cream, you know?"

He hadn't tasted one in a while, too busy with the mission to even consider ordering one from online or requesting a disciple to buy one for him. Not that he would ask, lest he'd be taken less seriously, his own fragile body already earning himself looks though they would never comment such out loud.

He couldn't be weak then.

The stronger half had disappeared, the charades discarded, leaving him to pick up the pieces and rebuild. He promised. Yet where was he? Don't leave, please don't leave, I hate you, why did he leave?

Blindingly hot pain stabbed at his brain, and he reflexively slammed his eyes shut with a hiss, biting down at his lip to prevent the moan from escaping. He wasn't fast enough at masking it though, because the woman let out a concerned noise. "Hey, are you—?"

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth, even with the thunderous roar of his pulse in his head, threatening to crack his skull open without remorse. Bile almost crawled itself up his throat. He had to remind himself to breathe, because breathing meant that he was alive, and he wasn't there anymore.

He just had to wait it out.

Wait it out.

Wait.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

After an agonizing few minutes that felt like an eternity, Saeran sagged into his seat, sweat licking against his skin and a familiar numbness that had been a constant part of life all over his body. He swallowed dryly and let out a soft, shaky exhale, all the while more pencil scratching was heard. They stewed in silence, not too comfortable yet not too tense, until the woman began speaking again.

The standard questions.

He remained silent. Another sigh from the doctor.

The cycle continues it seems, he mused in his head as he absentmindedly counted down alongside the metronome. Tick-100, tick-99.

"What do you want me to call you?"

He blinked a couple of times, and he looked up to see her staring expectantly. It took everything for him to not look away from her doe-like bright blue eyes—unlike her cold, calculative green ones—and his brows creased.

She gave him a patient smile. "Well, I was just wondering what to call you?"

The question only registered a few seconds later, and his lips pursed. What to call him..? He couldn't help but sneer. "Don't you have your trusty notes?"

"I do, but I'd rather hear it from you," she rebuffed easily, still wearing a smile. "I can't exactly keep calling you 'young man' all the time."

Annoying. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

"Notes don't mean absolute facts, unless confirmed from a source," the woman added after a few seconds of him looking blankly at her, though he noted her anxiousness seeping through.

Annoying but...

"Just..." Saeran clicked his tongue. "Call me what you want, it doesn't matter anyways."

The woman raised an eyebrow, and then hummed in contemplation. Seemingly deep in thoughts as she was, Saeran crossed his arms and let his gaze wander again, just wondering why the hell had he actually entertained her request. Now he might get stuck with her and the doctors might get the bright idea that he was gonna start cooperating, and damn she was getting irritating fast.

He was only here thanks to the woman his brother was dating, and though said brother had agreed, he knew that he was simply forced to comply with her request. Troublesome, the both of them.

Maybe they were tired of dealing with him. He wouldn't blame them.

"I think I'll call you... Ray."

His body twitched at her declaration. "Why Ray?"

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

The woman craned her head to the side, pleased but annoyingly oblivious. He had the irrational urge to tell her to stop being so obvious.

"I guess it's because you're such a ray of sunshine," she drawled, and at his unimpressed look she adopted a more genial, and slightly sheepish expression. Too open, she would've been devoured in Mint Eye. "In all seriousness, I see that you seem to like to look up into the sky most of the time."

That wasn't what he was expecting. "... And so?"

"You always seem so calm and relaxed during those times. I just feel like it's a ray of hope, if you will," she shrugged lightly. "I thought it felt fitting."

A ray of hope, huh? That one clung to it, stubborn and weak as he was. But he wasn't him anymore, was he?

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

He tilted his head back to hide a grimace. That one was long gone, he and the Sav—that person had made sure of it.

"Whatever," he forced out.

Time couldn't go by any faster.