WARNING: This chapter touches on depression and some other psychological-related symptoms or disorders. If you are uncomfortable with such content, please do not read this chapter. (Or just skip to like, the last few paragraphs. Those are safe.) Also some mild profanity, but please just excuse me heh.

Also thanks for 100 upvotes I DON'T DESERVE THIS ;;;;

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The interior of the office, Yongsun notes offhandedly, isn’t quite as great as Byulyi’s own. Sure, it’s very modern and sunlit and is what one would classify as an office that is as welcoming as a professional office can get. But still, there’s something almost suffocating about the bland paintings adorning the walls and the white everything. It seems like Dr Kim defined modernity as the colour white.

It’s pretty spacious, with a bookcase backed up against the right wall and his desk right in front of it. To the left of the door is a sitting area, with four chairs placed around a coffee table on a cream rug. On a cabinet pushed against the left wall is a vase full to the brim with daisies (which are, notably, white). The wall opposite the door houses two large windows.

Under normal circumstances, Byulyi most probably wouldn't be sweating quite so much or looking so pale while looking at a respectable middle-aged guy sitting behind a modern glass-topped desk spinning a pen. Of course, this isn't normal circumstances, and Byulyi’s whiter than a picture of a whitewashed Kpop idol.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Which one of you is Moon Byulyi?” The psychologist asks, eyes flashing behind his glasses as he assesses the two women standing in front of the closed door.

“I-” Byulyi says, swallowing, “I am. I'm Moon Byulyi. This is my, um, friend, Kim Yongsun.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Moon, Miss Kim. Miss Moon, perhaps you'd like to make yourself comfortable on that recliner while I settle some administrative matters real quick? It'll only take some a couple of minutes. Feel free to help yourself to a glass of water.”

Yongsun sees Byulyi take a deep breath before walking towards the recliner - inevitably dragging Yongsun along due to their still interlocked hands. Byulyi sits down on the recliner, sinking into the soft fabric, and Yongsun stands next to her stiffly, like some demonically staring bodyguard. She leans down slightly, so that her lips are a couple of centimetres above Byulyi’s ears. “Hey, Psych, not that I'm complaining or anything, but are you going to hold my hand the whole day?”

The words seem to work like magic, because Byulyi lets go so quickly that she nearly hits herself in the face with the momentum.

Yongsun sees but doesn't comment, hiding a small smile. She places her hand on the top of the recliner. Byulyi’s so tense that she knows that jokes or teasing won't be of any help right now.

The psychologist (the male one, not Byulyi) stands up from his desk, cracks his knuckles, and makes his way over to the place where Byulyi is sitting. Spacious though his office is, and tasteful though his decorations are, they just don't put Byulyi or Yongsun at ease as easily as Byulyi’s art studio office does. He sits himself on an armchair and picks his laptop up from the coffee table in between them.

“Alright, we are ready to start. Miss Yongsun, you may take your leave-”

“Can she stay?”

Yongsun, who’d turned about halfway, turns back when Byulyi speaks.

“Er - I suppose she can, if she wants to and if you want her to. It's your life and your session. However, you might be revealing some things that you'd be uncomfortable saying in front of others, so I advise you to consider this carefully.” Dr Kim glances at Yongsun, who looks back at him impassively before looking down at Byulyi.

“She'd hear all of this eventually,” Byulyi says quietly, looking at the ground. “And I’d trust her with my life.”

Yongsun’s fingers squeeze the stuffed fabric, her hard brown eyes softening. Dr Kim studies Yongsun, who gives him a small nod. He says, “Then I suppose she can stay. You might want to take a seat, Miss Kim. You're rather intimidating when you stand there.”

“So I've been told,” Yongsun says crisply, taking a seat on the spare armchair nearer to Byulyi's recliner.

“Alright then, now that you’ve made yourselves comfortable, Miss Moon, I’d like to start by asking you a question: How are you feeling lately?”

Dr Kim’s glasses flash as he pushes them up his nose bridge, a bridge similar to which Byulyi is currently wiping her sweat from. She her lips and says, “Um, tired, I suppose. And I just feel like my mind has been running everywhere lately. I think it’s a manifestation from overworking, or stress, or something.”

“Oh? And what job do you have, Miss Moon?”

Byulyi hesitates.

“I’m, um, I’m  a psychologist.”  

Dr Kim’s surprise barely finds his face before he wipes it off in favour of his usual calm expression. “That’s quite interesting. And so, you’ve been tired and your mind is running everywhere. Tell me, how has your sleep been faring?”

“Not very well,” Byulyi admits. As expected, Dr Kim is as perceptive as he’s described to be. “I used to suffer from insomnia. It went away after a while, but it came back recently.”

Quiet tapping of a keyboard, then Dr Kim says, “Insomnia. I see. Any other abnormalities that’s been happening lately? I need a full overview of how your psyche is functioning at the moment before I can dish out any sort of therapy help.”  

“Uh-” Byulyi swallows, “I had some sort of mental breakdown recently. I felt all anxious and I think I was hallucinating during it. Normally Yongsun has yellow eyes, yeah? I don’t really know why either. Pigments or something. But then for some reason they were brown during that period. It was strange.”

The tapping slows down, and Dr Kim looks up. Yongsun catches his sharp gaze, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of the head, pupils dilating.

“Brown, hm?” Dr Kim’s sharp eyes bore searingly into Yongsun’s own, before shifting to Byulyi. Yongsun is almost certain she can hear the sound of cogs turning in his brain. “And has this ever happened to you before, Miss Moon?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no. I never hallucinated or imagined something like this before.”

Dr Kim types more on his laptop, then clears his throat and pushes the screen down slightly, placing it back onto the coffee table. “Alright, thank you for the status update, Miss Moon. If it is okay with you, I’d like to delve a little deeper into the roots of - well, everything. Tell me this, for, if it holds true, then it is very important: did you ever have a psychological condition before?”

Byulyi’s fingers twist the hem of her shirt violently. Her words come out flatly. “I had depression.”

Dr Kim pauses. “Oh? And how did that come about? Perhaps, if you are comfortable, Miss Moon, you could tell me the story from the beginning.”

Byulyi looks anything but comfortable, and her face says it all. Yongsun looks on stoutly, wondering if she should try to relax her. With a little grunt she reaches across the short space between their chairs and lays a hand over Byulyi's own, sees Byulyi's eyes flit towards her. Yongsun gives her a small smile, just the corner of her lips quirking, and Byulyi exhales.

“He's here to help, Psych,” Yongsun says quietly.

“Just keep holding on,” Byulyi says, looking at her. “Please.”

“Yeah.”

It's a short exchange, but Byulyi visibly relaxes, her frown smoothing out.

“Take your time, Miss Moon. If you feel that you are not ready to tell me yet, then I will not force you. However, some insight into your roots will really help to stimulate these sessions.”

Yongsun is slightly impressed with the patient and kind tone that he uses, because she herself could never quite master it. It seems to be able to calm anyone down. Byulyi closes her eyes, leaning back against the recliner with a small sigh.

It's silent for a minute or two, in which Yongsun and Dr Kim watch her unmoving form. Then the minimally lipsticked lips part, and she begins to speak.

“I always remembered my parents to be people who loved me deeply. Ever since I was born, they showered me with affection. Some marriages go sour or just flat after the addition of another mouth to feed, but theirs just soared. My dad was the one who named me, and they called me name with such affection each time - Byulyi. Byulyi. They didn't know what a blessing and a curse my name was. They loved my name. I was taunted for it in school. All my schoolmates would laugh and make fun of my name and those times really made me feel like the world is just a goddamn hole.

“I wasn't depressed yet, but I think it was the beginnings of it. Going to school made me stressed and upset, because of those dumb kids. My parents told me to ignore them, and I really tried to. I did. I guess it kind of did get to me at some point. They'd always chant my name over and over again, mocking me.” Byulyi grimaces.

Yongsun remembers - that day when Byulyi was having that weird hallucination thing. She was screaming for her to stop saying her name, though she really hadn't said it. Was she having flashbacks?

“One day when I was ten, my parents took me out for a drive. They - they were in the front, and I was strapped in the back. I can't really remember what happened exactly because it was just so sudden, but a lorry turned a corner too quickly and it collided with our car,” Byulyi says, her face taking on a slightly more ashen tinge. She her lips again. “I was seatbelted in the back, so I just received a few cuts. The entire windshield had shattered and everything, everything was red in front.”

Byulyi cuts herself off, taking a deep breath. Her voice cracks when she next speaks. “They died.”

The words rush and slam into Yongsun like a torrential hurricane, and she squeezes her hand a little too hard, her eyes flickering to the pale Byulyi. But Byulyi isn't crying, doesn't need her to step in, because maybe what she needs is to just get this story off her chest.

“I was bundled off to live with an aunt and uncle who cared bat nothing about me or my wellbeing, so I suppose that's where my depression began to bloom. The teasing in school died down some, but people still treated me like some freak and I didn't have anyone to turn to at all. I felt like the whole world was against me, which of course can't technically be true, but I felt it so acutely at the time that I just sunk into depression.

“It was…it was horrible. I skipped meals, isolated myself even further from my schoolmates, and I cried myself to sleep almost every day. I locked myself in my room whenever I wasn't in school, both to escape the outside world and to escape my aunt and uncle, who'd always look at me like I was a burden to society. And I felt like I was, back then - just another pawn on a giant chessboard, watching helplessly as all my comrades got taken down. I wondered why things had to happen like that, you know? Why all the bad things always happened to me. It made me feel worse.

“It's like - like something is always pressing hard deep in your chest, and you always feel so heavy and like you're drowning under the weight of everything, except there's no end to it. My aunt and uncle didn't understand. They never understood me. They just scolded and scolded and got frustrated.

“I talked back and snapped at them, and my constant refusal to cooperate with anything made my aunt angry. So she dragged me to see a psychologist one day, unable to stand me nor my condition anymore. I suppose that's where I kind of changed for the better, over the course of a year and more. But,” Byulyi shakes her head then, releasing a single hollow laugh. “I don't think I ever got completely better. How could I? I still have nightmares of a lorry smashing into my car, and every bit of glass that embeds itself in my skin is a reminder of how I have everything in the form of my life, yet nothing, because besides a beating heart, there's nothing. Nothing.”

“Everything and nothing is such a contradictory term, but yet it describes everything aptly,” Yongsun mutters, her mind compressing and digesting the information that Byulyi had just shared.

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