Scaramouche sat on the bed, staring at his reflection in the mirror across the room. He felt so… angry and sad, wanting nothing more than to just stop existing, to disappear completely. Throughout the whole day, he’d been having flashbacks, from the betrayal of his mother all the way to being experimented on and reconstructed by the Fatui.

He hated it. He hated himself. He couldn’t stand how he looked, especially knowing that he would never be the same, he’d never be real. He was immortal, and there was nothing he could do about, he’d live on for forever and ever, carrying all these big emotions with him.

So caught up in his head, he didn’t even hear the door open, the only thing snapping him out of it was your voice as you suddenly spoke up, softly calling his name.

“What do you want…”

He mumbled, shifting his gaze away from the mirror and instead to the floor.