Title: Five Times You Tried And One Time You Didn't
Fandom: Mystic Messenger
Character: MC
Rating:: G
Length: 2913
Content Notes: Written in 2nd person; spoiler warning for all routes from Casual Story and Deep Story.
Author's Notes: I found the Reset Theory intriguing ever since I've joined this fandom, so here is my take on it!
This also serves as a fill for the Thank God it's Friday... Again: Time Loops square on my genprompt_bingo card (yes I know)
Summary: You wake up in your room, alone. It must have been a dream.


The first time, you have fun. They are nice and kind and curious, everyone in their own way. You indulge their questions and jokes, can't help but feel flattered by the sudden bout of attention they grant you. A change from how your life has been before, albeit a welcome one. It is ridiculously easy to talk to them, and it doesn't take long for them to charm you in turn; sweet messages and short calls make you feel special.

But it is Yoosung who captures your attention. He is naive, yes, but also cheerful and honest and the first to embrace you as a new member of their little club. You don't know when your casual conversations about food and gaming have shifted to more personal things, and you find you don't care, as long as you have them.

He still compares you to Rika, however, and it hurts. You want to be more than just a replacement, even though you are keenly aware that was exactly as what you started out to be. But you see he is hurt, too, and gently guide him in untangling the knot his feelings are wrapped into.

His adoration outmatches the hurt tenfold.

With his hurt gone, anger has him in its grips. You try to calm him, ignoring the small seeds of doubt planted in your own mind. Yoosung is right, and something is off; but you don't want to be the reason the group is torn apart. So you keep your thoughts sweet, and your words sweeter. And he accepts them. He seems to grow more mature every time you speak. Now it is your turn to blush at his forwardness, to giggle at his promises. You wish the party would be sooner, because you can't wait to finally meet him.

That is why you plead him to stay, why you beg Seven to go alone. Neither of them listens.

You stay glued to your phone all day, praying for them to get back safe. You start crying when he calls to tell you as much.

The party is a success. You mingle with the many interesting people who attend, but you are only partly listening to their stories, flashing superficial smiles and mumbling excuses. You can't seem to find the one who you are looking for. When you see Seven, you know something has gone wrong. And when V calls Yoosung up to take the stage, you know what it is. You can't take your eyes off him, because of the bandage that covers half of his face. He smiles and jokes like nothing has happened. It makes your stomach turn.

If you hadn't been there, he wouldn't have suffered like this.

Even once he rushes from the stage to sweep you up in his arms and to finally, finally pull you into a soft, sweet kiss, something inside you breaks. You feel his lips curve upwards into a smile against your own, and you decide focus on that instead. If he is happy, you should try to be, too. And for the short moment you are pressed flush against him, you know you will be.

Still, you go back to the hospital after the party, with your fingers laced together and your head leaned on his shoulder. You want to make sure he is okay, and he gladly humours you with that look of his that makes your heart skip a beat. The lack of sleep begins to take its toll on you; as much as you want to stay awake, the waiting room seems to swim before your eyes, and your lids grow heavy. He would wake you when his name is called out, you know, and you give in, let the heavy dizzyness swallow you.

You hear him scream just before everything fades to black.

You wake up in your room, alone. It must have been a dream.

***

The second time, you feel strange. You are still not sure whether you have dreamt it before, but you must have; the others are just as surprised and excited to meet you in chat as you so precisely remember from before, and they are just as kind.

It is unnerving, but you push it aside. You don't want to weird them out.

Jaehee is nice, though, and talking about her problems her distracts you a little from your own. Like her work, and nothing else because working is all she does. You wish she would work less and had more reasons to smile; her laugh is the brightest sound you have ever heard. It doesn't take much to convince her to cheer up Zen for a day, and after a few harsh words to Jumin her schedule is clear. She deserves all the happiness she can get, and if you can help with that, then you are content. You don't want her to get hurt, too.

And she is happy. You talk about musicals and coffee, and you see the smile between her words and a passion that she rarely shows. She still works a lot, but not deep into the night; when her texts wake you up, they are about a boxset she has finally come around to watch and a cafe she has discovered during lunch break. You are glad she takes lunch breaks at all. And you are glad that she does it because of you.

It becomes easier to ask her to work less each time you do. Because she listens to you and not Jumin. She thinks about quitting. You think she should have long ago.

The party is small, has an intimate atmosphere. You know you should have done better, as you have already done. But it is all you have been able to do.

Jumin wants you to take her job, and it takes all you have to not laugh into his face. You have worked hard to coax Jaehee out of it, and she is so much stronger than you ever will be. She is here, too; and of course you take her hand, and her offer. You would follow her anywhere, at least to make sure she doesn't relapse into old habits. And to catch more of her warm, warming smiles.

But you can't feel her hand, no matter how tightly you clutch it in yours. And it doesn't keep you from drowning in the numbness; you drop to the floor, the yells around you are muffled.

You wake up in your room, alone, sweating. This couldn't be just a dream.

***

The third time, you are tired. Everything is wrong because nothing has changed. And you don't know why. Half-heartedly you answer some chats, and the messages you have found endearing before have turned stale.

You don't remember when you've fallen for Zen. Sure, he is not as superficial as the others, and he himself, try to picture him; though you have to admit that he is handsome. But it isn't his looks that make you light-headed.

No, he is caring and flirtatious, cheers you up exactly when you need him to. His caller ID brings a smile to your face, and his calls leave you with a buzzing, warm sensation in your chest. And he is protective of you, very much so; you need him to, even though you can't tell him from what. He would not understand, because you don't really understand it, either. But you know he would try if you did, and that is all that counts.

Naturally, you go to cheer him up when he needs you.

Your first meeting begins with nervous smiles and hesitant touches, but you quickly ease into the teasing tone that makes your heart beat faster. Being with him adds a layer texts can't convey; his words are raw, laced with a sincerity once he opens up to you. You have never been as glad to have met someone new, and you cling to this feeling, desperate to keep it this time.

When you leave, you know you have helped.

The scandal that suddenly comes up outrages you. It is unfair and seeing him suffer from it almost breaks your heart; hearing his disbelief about you staying by his side is somehow worse. You don't know if he can take much more, nor if you can.

So, you ask him to stop. A career that only hurts him isn't worth having. And he agrees, eventually.

You should be happy that it’s over, but you aren’t. It is not because of the party; you have stopped caring about it long ago. Nor is it because he regrets it. When he puts all his heart into the smiles he gives you, you find it hard to find a fault. Yet, there is that odd feeling you can’t shake off, like you’ve made a mistake somewhere along the line. You begin to wonder if that mistake was made a long time ago.

The familiar dizziness washes over you, and you dig your nails into Zen's jacket, as if that would help. It doesn't. Your legs give way under you, and both of you topple to the ground.

You hear him call your name, but it seems so far away.

You wake up in your room, alone, sweating, shaking. This isn't a dream.

***

The fourth time, you are anxious. You feel trapped, but there are no walls that keep you. It isn't tangible, and it begins to drive you mad.

So you almost cry when they change up their routine. Maybe you have made it, maybe you have broken out this time. But you are still weary. Because maybe you haven't. You want to forget, just for a bit. And you try, for a while, in the few chatrooms you enter. It distracts you briefly each time, until the others log out and leave you alone with your thoughts. All it does is make it worse. You don't want to be alone with your thoughts anymore.

Yet you find you can't stop, not completely. Not when Jumin is so visibly upset because of his father. Maybe it is his hurt that makes you want to cheer him up; maybe it is because he finally talks about things you haven't read three times before.

You tell yourself it doesn't matter. You know it does.

It takes a while of careful prodding, but eventually he opens up a side of him you haven't thought he had. And you're just so glad to be surprised by something. You leap at the chance to visit him. Leaving the apartment can only be good for you, too. And you do feel better once you enter the car Jaehee has sent.

His penthouse is about as stylish-sleek as you have expected. He is about as reserved as you have expected. But he smiles when he talks, and he seems calmer than he has been the last couple of days. And it helps to calm you.

Until his cat goes missing. He is losing his mind because he has lost his cat; you have lost his cat because you are losing your mind. You shouldn't have come here.

Now he doesn't take his eyes off you, jealously watching your every step and move, and it makes you feel safe. If he takes care of you, you might not disappear again. Both of you don't want that, both of you for selfish reasons.

When he goes back to work, you beg him to stay. You are afraid of what might happen once he leaves. He caresses your cheek and kisses your forehead and assures you that he will be back soon and that the hacker can't reach you here. You have completely forgotten about the hacker until now. But you force a smile onto your lips and promise to greet him in the new dress he will send you later. You hope you don't have to break it.

He has picked up on your fear, you notice later; the amount of bodyguards outside has been tripled. Not that it would help.

The day goes by, sluggishly, every second dragged out unnaturally long; and each sign of exhaustion jolts you awake once again because sleep scares you more than loneliness. You alternate between perching on his bed and pacing through his penthouse. Neither keep your thoughts from spinning. You shouldn't have left your phone in the apartment.

But he makes good on one promise and comes home early, and you fling your arms around his neck the moment he steps through the door. He embraces you as tightly once he over ones his surprise, though it isn't enough.

You beg him to never leave you again. Being alone has become unbearable.

He lets go of you, untangles himself from your grip so carefully as if you were made from glass; now that you are standing on your own, you realise how much you are shaking. You briefly wonder if you have gone too far. But he gently lifts your chin and agrees with a smile that makes your heart soar and your skin crawl.

You don't ask why he has tethers lying around. You are too desperate to care. And you can't deny that you feel safer that way, with your arms loosely tied and your ankles shackled. If it keeps you here, it is worth the unease that has nestled in your guts.

With tiny steps you walk towards him, in heels that are too high and a dress that is too short. He likes it; and a part of you does, too.

The last thing you see is the smile dying on his lips when you stumble and a hand reaching to catch you as you fall and fall and fall.

You wake up in your room, alone, sweating, shaking, screaming. This is a nightmare.

***

The fifth time, you are panicking. There must be a way out... If there is, you don't know it. Yet you are on your way to the apartment long before you receive the messages whose contents you know by heart before they are even sent. You anticipate them, dread them; but a part of you is craving them, too.

You are drawn to Seven's jokes, because joking hides the pain. If you take nothing seriously, you can pretend this isn't real. And for a while, it works. You can almost convince yourself that the cheerful mask you have put on is you.

Until Seven loses his humour. You don't understand; this cold face he shows you now can't be him. If only because his jokes were all that helped to keep the remains of your frayed sanity.

So you keep joking, teasing him; more for your sake than for his. Because you need to get his old self back. He keeps pushing you away, and you break down crying in the bathroom. It is becoming too much to bear. You know he is listening, because his typing has stopped, and you swear you can hear him sigh between your frantic sobs; if out of annoyance or guilt you can't say.

He still ignores you the next day, perched in his corner and hacking away at his laptop. But he doesn't scoff at your half-hearted attempt of a joke, and you take it, cling to it like a lifeline, because right now, it is.

You are almost as surprised as he is when he asks you to run away with him. And the more he talks about it, the more you want to go. If staying inside won't help, maybe running will. Maybe if you leave, you are free of this nightmare.

He has erased any trace of either of you quickly enough; scarily quick, even, but you are too far gone to care. With nothing but the clothes you wear you sneak to his car and leave the city behind you. He talks about happy endings when he squeezes your hand, and that he hasn't thought he would have one if not for you. You have long given up on being happy, and gladly settle for anything if this only would end.

Wind tousles your hair, and you let your head sink into the seat. You feel almost giddy at the possibility of outrunning another reset.

Seven speeds up, and you allow your lids to fall shut. It has been a while since you haven't dreaded to fall asleep.

You are long gone when he tries to shake you awake.

You wake up in your room, alone, numb. You want it to stop.

***

The sixth time, you are exhausted. You stare at the lock, your shaking hands ghosting across the pad. This time, something keeps you from punching in the passcode that has become more familiar to you than your phone number.

Why do you keep doing this?

You lie. Whoever that stranger may be, you won't play their game any longer. They wouldn't know.

The soft voice behind you startles you. He reaches out to you, a soft smile playing around his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes and promises you salvation.

And you accept, and you follow. You can't do this any longer. A way out is all you want, all you need, and you have stopped caring what it would look like. You would do anything to make this stop.

When they bring you the elixir, you don't resist. And for the first time in weeks, you feel blissful relief.