A/N: Has anyone else ever had the sort of odd 'what if?' moment when you look in a mirror and wonder what if there's something else looking out at you through your eyes? That's sort of what inspired this, though I took it in a different, less creepy direction. ^^;

Also, for Flynn's roommate and his friend, I name checked a couple characters from one of the only other games I've ever played.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Catching a glimpse of long, dark hair in the mirrors that lined one wall of the gym distracted Flynn just long enough for Sodia to get the drop on him. He hit the mat hard and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, not entirely sure what had happened. Smiling down at him, Sodia offered a hand.

"Best three of five?"

"Sure." Taking her hand, he got to his feet and shook his head to clear it. "Let me just go get a drink first."

He'd left his gym bag in the far corner of the room on a bench in front of the mirrors. There was a bottle of water in one of the pockets but, although he took a grateful sip, it wasn't his real reason for taking a break.

The mirror reflected a gym that had seen better days. Though fluorescent lights shone a cool, blue-white overhead, the dark gray concrete floor and navy-painted cement walls drank in the light. There was a single boxing ring with a dingy blue mat and faded red posts. Three mismatched punching bags with fraying seams hung from the ceiling. The nearest one was in use by the young man he'd seen a moment ago, the one with his hair tied up in a ponytail.

Forgetting about the water bottle in his hand, Flynn watched the man's movements, appreciating how quick he was and how solidly his hits landed. A kickboxer, he lashed out with fists and feet, and even pulled off a few impressive jumps that had his bare feet impacting surprisingly high up on the punching bag. He wore gym shorts and a determined expression and, as his assault continued gaining ferocity, Flynn wondered if something had happened to put him in a bad mood. He wished, uselessly, that there was something he could do. Even something as simple as sparring with the gray-eyed kickboxer would have been enough. Heaven knew there'd been plenty of times he'd felt better after a little exercise.

"Flynn!"

He turned around to see Sodia waving from the nearest of the bright blue sparring mats. The room behind him seemed even brighter after the contrast of the gym he'd seen in the mirror, all honey-colored wood floors, bright white walls, and an array of new or at least well-kept equipment. On the opposite side of the gym was a row of half a dozen sleek black punching bags. Knowing that he wouldn't see anyone familiar, Flynn glanced over anyway. Twin girls with red hair were giving a couple bags a pounding, but no one else was even nearby. He looked back at the mirror as he put away his water bottle. The kickboxer was still working out his frustrations...wherever he was.

"I hope your day gets better," Flynn muttered as he turned away to go back to his workout. As he went, he wondered if Sodia would be interested in learning kickboxing once their judo class was over.

Standing on the little plastic stool that allowed him to reach the bathroom sink, six-year-old Flynn stared into the mirror, his toothbrush forgotten in his hand. Just a second ago the mirror had been normal. He'd seen himself in it and the sparkling clean white bathroom behind him. He'd only looked away for a moment, just long enough to grab the toothpaste, but when he'd looked back up, it hadn't been his bathroom in the mirror at all. It looked like a restaurant bathroom, or the bathroom from the school. There were stalls and it was gray and dim. More than that, though, there was a person in the bathroom who definitely wasn't him, a child who was peering up over the edge of a black counter.

He looked back, but everything behind him was just as it should have been. No big gray stalls, no other child. When he looked into the mirror again, he saw the strange girl plant her hands on the counter and jump. He got a quick look at black, chin-length hair and a determined frown, then all he could see were gray eyes just above the counter top once more.

This wasn't something a six-year-old was equipped to deal with on his own.

"Dad! Dad! There's a person in the mirror!"

He heard the thunder of his dad's feet hurrying down the stairs a moment before he burst into the bathroom, dressed in his policeman's clothes.

"Flynn, what...?" He looked around the room, glanced at the mirror, then went to the open window.

"No, Dad, she's in the mirror!"

There was someone else there when Flynn pointed, one of the church ladies that wore all black, even over their hair. She had a hand on the girl's head and was talking to her, though Flynn couldn't hear the words. They turned way from the counter.

His dad was still looking out the window and Flynn jumped off his stool to go grab his hand and pull him away.

"She's in the mirror, I said! Look!"

"I don't see anyone..." He kept trying to look outside. "Flynn, you said you saw someone—"

"What's all the fuss?" His mom showed up in the doorway.

"Flynn says he saw someone reflected in the mirror."

"No! She was in the mirror!"

Yanking on his dad's hand, he stepped up onto the stool and peered again into the glass. His own face looked back at him. Behind him, he could see his parents trade glances, and behind them was only the bright white tile of his familiar bathroom wall. No gray stalls. No strange little girl. He turned to look back at his parents.

"She was in there!"

"There's no one but us in here, Flynn, and I didn't see anyone outside. Maybe it was just your imagination."

"It wasn't!"

"Honey, do you have time to go check before you leave for work? He's all worked up now. I'll never get him to bed." Toying with the pearls around her neck, his mom glanced doubtfully at the window.

"It was probably just an owl flying by outside."

Still, he gave her a quick kiss and slipped by to go do as she'd asked. Flynn saw him pass by a minute later and wave from the yard. He waved back, knowing that his dad wouldn't find anything out there. The girl hadn't been a reflection. She'd been inside the mirror.

"Flynn?"

"Huh?" Flynn looked up to see Estelle leaning across the table as she tried to catch his eye.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I, um..." He glanced down again as movement in the chromed side of the napkin holder caught his eye. It was an effort of will not to turn around to see if the man in the mirror was actually seated just behind him. It helped that there was a saltshaker reflected that wasn't present at the table he was sharing with Estelle. Shaking his head, he tried to wrench his attention away from shining gray eyes and a crooked grin. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Do you remember my friend Rita?"

"The girl you met online, right?"

"Right!" She settled back into her seat, beaming. "She's coming to visit next week! She's thinking about transferring schools and wants to come tour the college."

"So she'll be moving here next semester?"

"Maybe. I hope so." Her excitement couldn't be held back, and she leaned forward again, her food all but forgotten. "We're thinking about getting an apartment together! Oh, I can't wait! She has another friend who might be moving in with us, too—a girl named Judith. I've only talked to her a couple of times, but she seems very mature."

"Is it really a good idea to move in with someone you don't know very well?"

He hoped that she would take a lesson from his roommate troubles. Stan had seemed all right at first, but he'd grown into a royal pain. Thankfully, he was moving out between semesters, but then Flynn would be left searching for a new roommate. With any luck, he would make a better choice this second time.

"That's why I'll be meeting up with them. Besides, I've known Rita for a few years now, and she says that Judith is a good person. I'm sure it'll be okay."

He smiled. "I hope so."

"Um...will you come with me to meet them while they're here?"

"Of course. What day?"

"They'll be getting here Friday afternoon and staying until Sunday."

"I'm going to the gym with Sodia Friday night, but I can be there Saturday." A sudden thought gave him pause. It was a little odd to be invited along with a group of girls, wasn't it? He wondered if Estelle might be trying to set him up. It had been a while since he'd dated anyone. "They won't mind me tagging along?"

"They'll love to meet you. Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome."

The bit of fishing hadn't told him much, but it probably didn't matter. It was far more likely that she really did simply want him to meet her new potential roommates. Even if she had considered fixing him up, Estelle wasn't pushy about things like that. She'd introduce them and let events take their course from there. If sparks flew, well...it wouldn't be a bad thing if he were to start seeing someone.

With her big news out of the way and plans for the weekend set, Estelle finally began on her lunch. Taking a bite of his own food, Flynn caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked down at the napkin holder. In the reflection on its polished side, the man in the mirror was laughing. He'd tied up his hair into a messy bun, leaving locks of it sticking out at odd angles or falling loose against his neck. Flynn had watched him put it up that way before, and the memory of the last time he'd seen that pinked his cheeks and convinced him that he needed to concentrate on his lunch with Estelle.

It had always been strange that he could look into reflections and sometimes catch glimpses of the mirror man's life, but over the last couple of years, that one-way connection had begun getting more complicated. Flynn had lost count of how many times he had wished the phenomenon worked both ways, or that he could at least pass a message across. As a child he'd tried everything he could think of: knocking on the mirror, fogging it up with his breath to leave a message, writing in toothpaste, even trying to line up his reflection in another mirror. Nothing had ever gotten through. If he could talk to the man in the mirror, even just for an hour...

He sighed and made an effort to push the thought away. No use wishing for the impossible.

Flynn learned very quickly not to talk about the child in the mirror. If his parents didn't say that it was nothing but his imagination, then they teased him about seeing ghosts or said he was making up stories. Weeks after his last mention of her, they still asked after his imaginary friend every now and again. His mom even sometimes teased him about her being an imaginary girlfriend. He didn't know what to tell them, so he didn't tell them anything. She wasn't his imagination, and he didn't think she was a ghost, but he didn't know what she was. Someone else. Someone who showed up in his mirror sometimes and couldn't see or hear him. He couldn't hear her, either, and, even though he sometimes saw her when she wasn't alone, he never saw other people without her.

It took him almost a month to realize that she was a boy. His mom had taken him to a department store to get some new clothes. When he'd gone to try them on, he'd pulled a shirt over his head only to find that, when he could see it again, the mirror was reflecting a much shabbier fitting room. Closing the door was the mirror girl, frowning at an armful of clothes. All of them had been boy's clothes. Flynn had turned around as the mirror boy had kicked off his shoes and started changing, but he'd caught a glimpse of the tags hanging off the clothes. They'd all been brightly-colored with the sizes hand-written. It had looked sort of like confetti.

Later that day, he'd asked his mom what sort of stores sold clothes with tags like that. She'd told him it was probably a second hand store. She'd told him about children whose parents couldn't afford to buy them nice, new clothes, who had to make do with other people's used clothes. He'd wondered if that was why the mirror boy—definitely a boy, even if he did have hair like a girl's—had looked so mad. The next time their church held a donation drive for needy families, he'd remembered that and begged his mom and dad to buy a few new things to donate. He'd hoped some of it would somehow make it to the mirror boy, but Flynn never saw him in the clothes his parents had bought after that donation drive or any of the others they contributed to over the next few years.

His parents were proud of him for wanting to help, though they never knew his real reason. They encouraged his interest by becoming more involved as a family in church dinners and fundraisers. His dad went to service with them more often when he used to prefer sleeping in if he had the morning off. Those years were probably the happiest of Flynn's life, even with the inexplicable mirror boy lurking in random reflections.

He learned quickly that it wasn't just mirrors that showed him the boy. It seemed like, if they were around the same sort of reflection, Flynn would see what it should have looked like to him. When he rode in a car, he saw him sometimes reflected in the window, staring intently at the world outside. Sometimes, Flynn could tell that the mirror boy was on a bus with other children. Sometimes he would see the reflection of the mirror boy's face floating on top of his juice, or reflected in the dark screen of the TV when it was off. Once, when he was out shopping with his parents, he saw him reflected on the big glass windows of the stores. As Flynn passed each separate window, his city, Zaphias, would disappear and the mirror boy would take its place, walking down a sidewalk in a city Flynn had never seen before.

Still, Flynn saw him mostly in the bathroom mirror, in the morning or evening, getting ready for the day or ready for bed. Every now and again, he would appear with bruises. Twice he had a bloody nose, and once he'd gotten a black eye. It made Flynn wonder if he was getting bullied or if he was starting fights. He always smiled for the other kids that approached him, though, so he probably wasn't bad. Flynn tried asking about it even though he knew he couldn't be heard. He tried using his breath to fog the glass and write a note, but that didn't work, either. In the end, all he could do was watch as the mirror boy washed his injuries. Sometimes, one of the church ladies—nuns, his dad had told him when he'd asked—would come stand with him before the mirror and help get him cleaned up and bandaged. He could tell that the mirror boy got lectured those times, but, if the nuns ever asked him who he'd been fighting with, he didn't give them away. At least, not in front of the mirror.

He hated seeing the mirror boy like that as much as he hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to help. The first time the mirror boy had appeared with a bloodied nose, Flynn hadn't been able to sleep. He'd gone to his dad the next afternoon after school and climbed up on the couch to sit next to him.

"What do you do if you know someone is being bullied?"

"You need to let a teacher know. They can take measures to put a stop to it. Is this one of your friends at school?"

Flynn shook his head. "He goes to a different school." He'd never seen a reflection of the mirror boy at school, though, so he wasn't really sure.

"Did you meet him at church?"

"No. I just...heard about it."

"What's his name?"

Staring down at his hands where they gripped his knees, Flynn had to admit that he didn't know. His dad's hand came to rest on his head.

"Flynn...are you being bullied?"

"No!" He felt tears of frustration starting to burn his eyes and had to look away almost as soon as he'd met his dad's gaze. "I just want to help!"

"If you don't know his name or where he goes to school, there isn't much you can do. He'll have to stand up for himself. Hopefully, he'll talk to an adult before things go too far. If anyone ever tries to bully you, speak up about it right away, understand?"

He nodded, but it wasn't the answer he wanted. He wanted to be able to help the mirror boy. Even his dad, who was a policeman, couldn't help. It wasn't fair! Over the next few days, he tried to avoid seeing the mirror boy, ashamed that he couldn't do anything. Then, less than a week later, his dad came to his room while Flynn was doing his homework.

"How would you like to learn aikido?"

Flynn set down his pencil and turned around in his chair. "What's that?"

"It's a martial art intended for self defense. I thought after our talk the other day you might like to learn. It might come in handy."

Although his dad was smiling, Flynn hadn't ever heard of it before."It's like karate?"

"Sort of. In aikido, you learn how to stop an attacker without doing him harm."

"How do you win, then?" he asked, suspiciously. The question made his dad laugh.

"It isn't about winning so much as diffusing a bad situation. Would you like to give it a try?"

"I could stop bullies?"

"You could defend yourself, and others if necessary." His dad got suddenly serious. "Flynn, this isn't to teach you how to go after people you think are bullies. It's only to help you if you can't avoid a fight. Understand?"

He gave it a moment's consideration, then nodded. "When do I start?"

Once more, his dad grinned at him. His hand, large and warm settled on Flynn's head and mussed his hair. "First class is Monday. You'll be going every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for about an hour right before dinner. Mom'll take you most nights."

Nodding, he took a swipe at his dad's arm. The hand ruffling his hair pressed a bit harder, moving faster until he threw himself out of his chair and dragged his dad to the floor for a wrestling match. They kept at it until his mom called a warning that dinner would be ready soon and his dad picked him up and carried him kicking and laughing into the dining room.

Soon, he'd learn how to fight for real. Even though he couldn't help the mirror boy, maybe he'd be able to help someone else.

Leaning over the sink, Flynn spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and cupped a hand beneath the faucet to catch some water to rinse with. When he straightened up, the mirror no longer reflected his bathroom.

"I guess neither of us gets to sleep in today," he said. "Unless it's later wherever you are."

The man in the mirror yawned and scratched his head before peering blearily at his reflection. He looked exhausted, glassy-eyed and pale. Flynn watched him brush aside sweaty bangs to press a hand over his forehead. A moment later, a woman entered the bathroom. Flynn had seen her before with the man in the mirror, but had never quite been able to work out what they were to each other. She was tall and lean, beautiful, with a sharp smile and hair dyed a rich purple. The two spoke briefly, and she reached around to replace the man in the mirror's hand with her own. Gray eyes fluttered closed with a sigh that Flynn couldn't hear. He watched the man sag a little, and his heart gave a sympathetic squeeze.

"If you feel that bad, go back to bed," he murmured. Even knowing that the man in the mirror couldn't hear him wasn't enough to prevent him voicing his concern.

The two people in his mirror talked just a little longer before the woman left. Flynn stared into gray eyes that had no idea he existed and wished that there was some way to get through. Lifting a hand, he knocked gently on the glass. The man in the mirror didn't even flinch, just heaved a sigh and stripped off his shirt as he turned toward the shower.

Flynn looked away quickly, and grabbed a towel to hang over the mirror so that there was no way he could accidentally catch an eyeful. He splashed his burning cheeks with cold water. There were times when he wished he wasn't so aware of the man in the mirror, and then there were times when he really wished he wasn't so aware of him. It was one thing to cope with unrequited attraction, but he was fairly certain his particular situation was unprecedented.

It had been a tradition since he'd met Estelle back in middle school for Flynn to attend her Halloween party. That was why, his first year in college, he found himself getting ready to go to her house rather than to one of the handful of frat parties spilling out over the campus. He had even invited Sodia along, though he was running a little late picking her up. The knight in shining armor costume he'd bought turned out to have a few more buckles than he'd planned for. Eventually, he got all the pieces where they needed to go, and managed to make it into the bathroom without losing any. Hoping to take a quick peek in the mirror to be sure he didn't look too silly, he instead found himself staring at a familiar pair of gray eyes.

The little shock did funny things to his stomach, and that was before he took in the rest of the tableau. There was a woman standing right behind the man in the mirror, and in place of a shirt, she had bound her breasts flat with gauze bandages. Her hair was purple, though she held a can of temporary black hair color which she used to darken it. As for the man in the mirror...

Flynn watched him fill two water balloons, weighing the second carefully against the first before tucking them oh-so-carefully into the cups of the lacy black bra he was wearing. He'd left the knots in the front and laughingly prodded the nipples of his fake boobs before tugging on a tight, navy blue, v-neck baby doll tee. Holding his arms out as far as he could in the cramped bathroom, he shook his shoulders to watch the balloons jiggle.

With a smirk every bit as self-satisfied as Flynn had ever seen on the man in the mirror, the woman set aside her can of hair color and picked up a new one which she used to turn his hair purple. It wasn't until Flynn saw her use a third color to recreate a thin streak of blue that he'd noticed in her hair earlier that he realized they were dressing up as each other for Halloween. Once all the hair color had been applied, she finally slipped on a shirt—a plain, black tank top—and fussed momentarily with her hair. The similarity, though achieved through quick, cheap measures, was startling.

Fascinated, Flynn watched as the man in the mirror presented his face to be made up, tilted this way and that by the woman's slender fingers as she added dusky lines around his eyes and darkened his lashes. She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her bag and applied it in careful strokes that added little more than shine, though Flynn felt his stomach flip-flop as the man in the mirror briefly pressed his lips together and parted them. So caught up was he, that he stood staring while the woman wound her friend's newly purple hair into a neat bun high on the back of his head.

Was he just her friend? Flynn hoped that was the case. Not that it did him any good either way, but he had a terrible, selfish wish that they were nothing more than good friends. The fact that he couldn't tell if they were flirting or joking ate away at his nerves. He watched her pick up a pair of high-heeled boots and shake them teasingly and had to resist the urge to lean in closer to get a better view as the man in the mirror bent to put them on.

Distraction came as the ringing of his cell phone, and he fumbled it in his haste to focus on something—anything—else.

"Hello?"

'Flynn?'

"Sodia!" He glanced at his watch and almost swore.

'Where are you? I thought we were supposed to meet up—'

"We are. I'm sorry. I was, ah, having some trouble with my costume. I'll be right over."

They said a quick goodbye while he watched the man in the mirror wobbling on his heels. He winced as he turned out the light and tore himself away.

"Be careful you don't hurt yourself wearing those," he said as he left.

The storm that had been threatening all morning finally broke during the first of Flynn's afternoon classes. Thunder rumbled behind the drone of the lecture, and the wind howled for attention, catching up raindrops and flinging them like pebbles at the windows. Flynn tried to concentrate on taking notes, but he couldn't help glancing back occasionally at the tinted glass even though he knew how unlikely it was that he would catch a glimpse of anything except the storm overlaid with his classroom. He hoped that the man in the mirror had stayed home. Get some rest and eat chicken soup, he thought, knowing that wish was about as likely to be answered as a prayer.

Time dragged on, made slower by a lecture covering material Flynn had read the night before. As the storm battered against the windows, he made sparse additions to his notes and wondered why everything felt so dull. He should have had a keen interest in his professor's take on the case histories he was learning about. He should have felt at ease the other day at lunch with Estelle. His sparring matches with Sodia shouldn't feel as if he was just going through the motions. He should feel more than vague dread and a guilty hope that his mom would cancel their upcoming weekly dinner.

Something was missing from his life. He felt almost like he was running in place, desperately trying to get to a point where he could make a difference, even though he was caught and unable to move forward. It was tiring being nothing more than one more student aiming to become a prosecutor after several years' hard work. Although he understood the importance of the coursework, the need to be properly trained and prepared, he still felt trapped in limbo with one identical day passing after the next.

Lately, his thoughts had been turning increasingly often to the idea of switching careers, of joining the police force. It wouldn't take so long to start making a difference, and it would be more active and exciting than working as a prosecutor. What kept him on his path, however, wasn't so much the thought that he could make bigger and more permanent changes by working with the law itself rather than its enforcement, but the knowledge of how his dad had died.

Flynn had always looked up to his dad: the policeman who went to work to protect people. When he was young, he'd wanted so badly to be a policeman just like him. He'd been crushed by his dad's death, and the circumstances had only made it worse. It had started out as a routine traffic stop on a car that had run a red light. The driver had been drunk, and he'd had a gun. He'd shot Flynn's dad point blank. Much later on, Flynn's mom had taken him to the sentencing. The man hadn't even been able to remember what he'd done. He'd been indignant over being sent to jail for killing Flynn's dad, and he hadn't even noticed Flynn or his mom. He hadn't cared.

That had ended Flynn's dreams of becoming a policeman. The next few years had been tough. He'd been lost. It hadn't helped that his mom had been emotionally devastated, or that they'd been forced to move into a tiny apartment away from the neighborhood where he'd grown up. He'd spent a few years isolated by the changes in his life and the fury and depression they'd brought about. Meeting Estelle had been a turning point. He'd finally found someone he could talk to, and he discovered that talking often helped ease the burden. Then, when they started high school, he'd met Sodia and she'd given him another outlet. After his dad had been killed, he'd stopped attending the aikido class. With Sodia, he regained his interest in martial arts. They enrolled in a judo class together. Flynn had been rusty, but extra practice sessions with her at the gym had him back up to speed in no time. They kept up their sparring sessions, and she had become his closest friend after Estelle.

The sudden flurry of textbooks and binders being closed and stowed away in backpacks woke him up out of the past and told him class had ended. Shaking his head, he gathered up his materials. He needed to focus on the here and now and stop getting so caught up in what had been and what couldn't be. Things would get better. He was just...frustrated. With everything packed into his messenger bag, he pulled out the compact umbrella he'd brought and headed for his next class.

Outside, the storm was mostly over, though it was still drizzling. He stepped to the side of the exit and opened up his umbrella before setting out across the campus, trying to avoid other students and the worst of the puddles as he went. It was only because he was watching where he stepped that he caught a fleeting glimpse of the man in the mirror. He appeared for only a moment, upside down across the surface of a puddle as he rushed along on his bike, backed by a blue sky. Flynn couldn't help but look up after he'd passed, half expecting to see him riding along down the sidewalk. The sight of nothing more than his fellow students walking along, oblivious, was unaccountably disappointing. The puddle at his feet was dark once more. No bright blue sky, no pale young mirror man who should have gone back to bed.

Someone brushed past him, making him realize that he'd stopped and was blocking the sidewalk. He started walking again, wondering where the man in the mirror had been going. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to follow for a day, even an hour. He felt like, if he met the man in his reflections, that maybe something incredible would happen. He could get a breath of fresh air, a new perspective. Even though he'd grown up with the man in the mirror, he barely knew him. It was a uniquely lonely feeling, and it clung to him throughout the rest of the day.

The suit Flynn's mom had bought him for the funeral was all black, even the shirt and tie. Staring at himself in the mirror when they got home, he thought he looked like a ghost. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he rubbed his arm over them, feeling the sting of fresh tears. He'd tried so hard not to cry...!

It took him several minutes to calm down, and by that time both sleeves of his jacket were damp and sticky from wiping his eyes and running nose. When he looked up once more at the mirror, still sniffling, he saw the mirror boy stretching his arms out over the sink to wash his hands. He was smiling.

"Why are you here?" The words came out quiet and shaky. Flynn coughed and tried again, even though the mirror boy couldn't hear him. "Why are you still here?"

His fists were clenched, his arms shaking. He hated the mirror boy suddenly, hated that he could still exist when Flynn's dad was gone forever, hated that he could be there, smiling, not caring at all even though Flynn had always wanted to help when he was in trouble! The mirror boy wasn't even real! Hadn't his parents always said it was just his imagination? He wasn't even real!

"I hate you! I hate you! Why won't you go away?"

In a rage, he picked up the little cup that held his toothbrush and flung it at the mirror. The boy didn't even notice. He threw the toothpaste and the hand soap and the tissue box. Whirling, he grabbed whatever he could from the shower. The loofah bounced harmlessly off. The bar of soap followed. The full bottle of shampoo, however, knocked the mirror off the wall. It fell across the sink and shattered with a ringing crash. Shards of glass flew across the floor and Flynn was left standing in their midst, panting and still furious.

"Flynn, what—?" His mom walked in and froze when she saw the wreckage of the bathroom. "What happened in here?"

"Why does he still get to be here?" Flynn demanded of her. "I don't want him here! I want dad!"

"What are you talking about?" She hovered anxiously, her hands darting like uncertain hummingbirds. "There's no one here!"

"The boy in the mirror!" he roared. "I don't want to see him anymore! I want dad back! I want—"

"'The boy in—?' Flynn, I don't have time for you imaginary friend! There are going to be people arriving and now our bathroom is a shambles—!" She clamped a hand over her mouth and steadied herself against the counter. When she sucked in a breath, Flynn could tell that she was about to cry. "Don't you think I want Finath back? But I'm not going around breaking mirrors because I can't have what I want. Get this mess cleaned up." She dabbed at her eyes and turned away. "It's time to stop acting like a child."

When she left, he sat down on the floor, his back to the bathtub and cried. He didn't care how much noise he was making, didn't care about the broken glass around him or the mess or anything. All he wanted was his dad. At one point, his mom came back. She stood in the doorway for a moment and sighed, then closed the door quietly and left him alone. He could hear voices from down the hall. The people from the funeral had come to visit.

Eventually, he ran out of tears. His eyes and throat hurt. His nose was hot and sore. Slowly, he got up and began cleaning. Even though he was careful about picking up the shards of glass, he still wound up with cuts on his hands that he didn't remember getting. He didn't see the mirror boy once as he cleaned up the mess.

On Friday, Sodia came to pick him up for the drive to the gym. He put his duffel in her back seat before sliding in up front and buckling up. She smiled at him and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Are you planning on going to the end-of-semester dance?" she asked.

"I'm not usually very good with that sort of thing."

"It might be fun." She paused, then offered: "We could go together."

He grinned, amused by the idea that she thought he needed to use the buddy system to manage a social event. He wasn't that hopeless, it was just that he'd never enjoyed himself at school dances. There was a lot of milling around involved, and a sense that they were just killing time away from home.

"Thanks, but I'll probably just pick up an extra shift or hit the gym or something."

"Oh. All right. Are you working tomorrow?"

"No. I had to trade shifts so that I could go with Estelle to meet a couple of her friends that are coming into town."

"The girls she's looking at moving in with?"

"Yeah. We're supposed to meet up at their hotel in the morning and then go tour the campus and the city. She's really looking forward to it."

"Sure sounds like you are."

She was teasing but, when he thought about it, he actually was happy that Estelle had invited him. He was looking forward to it. About to say as much, he glanced out the window and forgot the words.

The man in the mirror was superimposed over the passing city, distorted in the way of car window reflections. He sat slumped in the seat of a car, staring out the window. One of his arms rested on the door, pressed right up against the glass. Lifting his own arm, Flynn touched his fingers to the reflection of the man in the mirror's hand.

What would happen if something did click between himself and one of Estelle's friends? Would it help him set aside his interest in the man in the mirror?

"Flynn?"

He forced himself to look away. "Sorry. What was I saying?"

"You were talking about your plans for tomorrow."

"Right. I think it'll be good for me to meet some new people."

She looked at him strangely for that, but there was no way he could explain. He faced forward for the rest of the ride, but he couldn't help sneaking sideways glances at the out-of-place reflection in the window, and he didn't move his arm from where it rested against the glass.

For Flynn's twenty-first birthday, Estelle and Sodia took him out to dinner. The restaurant was packed, but they were eventually seated at a pub table in the bar. The girls perched on their stools and wished him a happy birthday and, because both of them knew about his dad, neither made any comment when he didn't order a drink to celebrate. Everything was going fine until halfway through his dinner when Flynn looked up and realized that the mirror behind the bar was no longer reflecting the room.

In the restaurant, there was nothing shelved directly in front of the mirror. All of a sudden, however, Flynn could see glass shelves lined with colorful bottles of liquor and spirits. He searched the gaps between shelves for the person that he knew had to be there for the view to have changed. When he finally did spot the man in the mirror, he almost wished he hadn't.

Flynn had seen colorful drinks before, but never one with quite so many layers. He watched the man in the mirror laugh as he raised his drink in a toast, and thought that, if the level of alcohol content was anywhere near the level of food dye, he was going to be in trouble. The toast was returned by the purple-haired woman who held a glass of cola. They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, practically leaning on each other even though the bar wasn't terribly full. He watched the man in the mirror enjoy his drink, jostling the lady next to him and joking with the bartender. He might have been a regular, or even friends with the scruffy-haired man behind the bar, but Flynn couldn't see any indicators of the name of the place. It was the closest he'd come to finding a clue that might lead him to the man in the mirror, but ultimately it did him no good.

More than that, though, was the unfounded sense of betrayal he felt over seeing the man in the mirror drinking. The circumstances of his dad's death had left Flynn with a strong dislike for alcohol and the way it changed people. Even though he knew there was no way the man in the mirror could have known about his dad, it still bothered him that he could so happily down a cocktail. He knew that there were plenty of people who drank and didn't let it become a problem, but he was having a hard time convincing himself that he should just let it go.

He did his best to pay attention to his friends and his food, but he couldn't help watching the reflection of that other bar. Before he and the girls left, he saw the man in the mirror order a fresh drink twice more. His mood had plummeted and, although he tried to keep up a smile Estelle saw right through him. He apologized and had to make up a lie about a headache to explain his odd behavior and lowered spirits. He hated having to lie to them, and wondered how it was that a person he'd never met—never even spoken with—was able to complicate his life without even knowing he existed.

It was raining again on Saturday, so Flynn dropped Estelle off at the entrance to the hotel before he went to find a parking space. He'd told her to go on up and that he would come meet them in the room for introductions and to work out where they wanted to go, and if touring the campus was still an option, given the weather. As he walked the short distance from the parking garage to the hotel, he listened to the steady patter of rain on his umbrella. It wasn't the furious sort of downpour that would wear itself out after a while, and he figured they should be prepared for a very wet day of sightseeing.

As he approached the glass doors leading into the hotel, he saw the man in the mirror walking toward him with a closed purple umbrella in his hand.

"I guess the weather's not any better where you are, huh?"

It didn't even occur to Flynn to slow his pace or pick a different door because he was so used to seeing reflections showing him what wasn't there. So, by the time his brain started asking why none of the man in the mirror's surroundings had appeared with him, it was too late. Flynn pushed the door open...right into the man in the mirror.

"Hey! Watch it!"

He stared. He couldn't help it. That sudden realization, that moment of impact had granted a wish he'd had for years. The man in the mirror was there—right physically there in front of him!

"What the hell are you staring at? You were walking straight toward me. Are you blind?"

His voice...finally, Flynn could hear his voice! It was just a touch deeper than he'd expected. It was nice. It was amazing.

"Hey..." He waved a hand in front of Flynn's face, looking suddenly unsure. "You aren't actually blind, are you?"

"N-no! No, I...I'm sorry, I... It's just..." He gestured helplessly, looking him up and down. They were the same height. "You're here."

He eased back out of Flynn's personal space. "Yeah, I'm here. You just hit me with the door."

"Sorry. I didn't mean—I mean, I thought you were—"

"Whatever. Never mind."

Waving off Flynn's stammering mess of an explanation that would have sounded crazy at best and creepy at worst, he started to walk away. Just like that, he was about to disappear out of Flynn's life. There might never be another chance to talk to him, and Flynn didn't even know his name.

"Wait!"

Before he could stop himself, he'd reached out and grabbed the man's wrist. He should have known better. A split second later the man had smacked his hand away—hard—and looked like he was ready for a fight. Members of the hotel staff were taking notice. Holding up his hands between them, Flynn scrambled for something to say to make up for his misstep and keep the conversation going.

"I'm sorry." Already said that! "I— My name is Flynn. Scifo. Let me buy you a coffee. To apologize."

There was the barest easing of tension in the way the man held himself, and a trace of amusement lightened his features the tiniest bit. It was so strange to see him in the flesh. Why was it that he looked more handsome this way? Or was that just a side-effect of the shock and the pounding of Flynn's heart?

"I think I'm good. Look, don't worry about it. I guess I overreacted."

Again, he turned away and, again, Flynn reached out for him. This time he stopped himself before he actually grabbed on, though he curled his fingers tight, covetous of the phantom feeling of the man's wrist warm and solid in his grip.

"Please."

There must have been something in his tone that gave the man pause. He took a good look at Flynn, wary and a little confused.

"Please," Flynn repeated. "I'll buy you lunch, too, if you're hungry."

He grinned, and the expression was so much livelier focused directly on him. "The magic words. First, though, I think I'd like to know exactly why you're so eager for my company."

"I..." He couldn't tell the truth. The truth was insane. "You look familiar."

"Hmmm? What, I remind you of an old flame, or something?"

Before Flynn could respond, the purple-haired woman he'd seen in so many reflections came walking up to stand next to them. "Decided not to leave us behind, after all, Yuri?"

Yuri. His name was Yuri. Flynn had to try the name out on his tongue. It spilled from his mouth as a whisper.

Yuri glanced at him. "That's me." Looking back to the woman, he jerked a thumb at Flynn. "This guy's trying to pick me up. I couldn't even make it out of the lobby."

"How forward." She covered a smile with her hand.

"It's not like that...!"

Further embarrassment was postponed as Estelle called his name. She was making her way over from the elevator bay along with a petite brunette, and she joined them with a smile.

"I'm glad you caught each other. Flynn, these are my friends Rita—" the brunette "—and Judith. Yuri is Judith's roommate."

The smirk that spread across Yuri's face told him that his relief over their status as roommates was all too obvious. He felt incredibly warm and knew he was blushing. In all the scenarios he'd imagined where he had met the man in the mirror, not one of them had ever been quite so awkward. In his head, he'd never panicked, never had to fish for a hasty explanation. He could have kicked himself for hitting Yuri with the door, except that, if he hadn't, they wouldn't have had any reason to even speak to each other. He might never have found out that Yuri knew Estelle's friends. He might never even have learned his name.

Estelle pressed forward. "Yuri, you'll join us, won't you?"

"Please do," Judith urged. She was wearing a smirk to rival Yuri's. "I'm sure Flynn would be glad of some male company."

His face was burning red hot. It was going to melt. He couldn't decide if he wanted to disappear, or add his pleas to the girls'.

"Well...I guess it might be interesting."

A week after the funeral, the bathroom mirror still hadn't been replaced and Flynn hadn't seen the mirror boy at all. He was regretting his outburst and, as he packed away all his toys and books and clothes so that he and his mom could move, he was starting to worry that he had made a mistake that he couldn't fix.

The night before they were supposed to move out, he took his mom's hand mirror into his room and shut the door. His own face looked back at him no matter how he angled it, and he finally set it down on the floor and crouched over it, waiting for it to change.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry. I'm really—" his breath hitched on a sob as tears welled up in his eyes. "—really sorry. I didn't mean it. Please." He was ashamed of the whine in his voice, and he buried his face in his arms on the carpet. "I don't want you to be gone, too...!"

He cried himself to sleep on the floor and woke hours later in the deep darkness of early morning. There was still no one but himself reflected in the mirror, and he tried to hold back tears as he climbed into bed. Memories of his dad came back to him, the way he'd used to stroke his hair to comfort him, the way his voice rumbled when he talked softly. He curled tightly into a ball, lonely and miserable and wanting his dad back and the mirror boy, too. Everything had fallen apart when his dad had died. His mom cried all the time when it was just the two of them at home, and nothing he could do helped. He wore himself out crying, and when he woke up the next morning his head ached and his face hurt. His dad was still gone and the mirror was still normal. He barely touched his breakfast, and then the movers showed up and he had to stay out of the way.

The apartment they moved into was small. The walls were plain white and the floors were covered in a pale carpet. The bathroom had a medicine cabinet with a mirror on the front. The first night there, Flynn didn't see the mirror boy. He was terrified that maybe something bad had happened to him because of the things he'd said. The thought made him sick to his stomach and he went to bed early and slept in late. When he woke up, he didn't even want to get out of bed. He stayed there until his mom noticed and made him get up.

He could see the mirror in the bathroom from out in the hall, but he didn't want to go in. He glanced at it guiltily, then took a longer look. Even though it was dark, something seemed off about the reflection.

Quickly, he flipped on the light, just in time to catch a brief glimpse of gray eyes, a flash of black hair as the mirror boy dashed away. The reflection suddenly showed the room just as it was, including Flynn standing frozen in the doorway. He sank to the floor, hugged his knees, and cried.

Flynn hadn't seen Yuri again since the day they had finally met.

It wasn't simply that he had returned to Dahngrest with Rita and Judith. On its own, that wouldn't have been a big deal. What had Flynn worried was that he hadn't seen Yuri's reflection anywhere since that Saturday almost a month ago. It was the longest he'd ever gone without seeing Yuri, and he was beginning to believe that whatever strange magic had bound them had finally been used up, leaving him feeling lonelier than he would have believed possible.

Although they had spent the day together in the girls' company, Flynn didn't think he'd been able to undo the awful first impression he'd made. No, he was almost certain he hadn't. When they had parted ways, Yuri had smirked at him and murmured "Thanks for the tour, Stranger Danger" before following Rita and Judith back up to their room. He hadn't left any chance for Flynn to ask if he'd see him again, or if they could exchange numbers or email addresses. He hadn't even told Flynn his last name.

Furthermore, although Flynn had enjoyed talking to him and been delighted to find that Yuri was intelligent and passionate when he warmed up to a subject, he'd sensed hesitation from Yuri. He'd been holding back while with the group, and Flynn could only think that it was because he'd come on far too strong. He'd been given a chance to get to know the man in the mirror, and he'd blown it completely, ruining any chances of friendship or anything more. He felt like an idiot. A stupid, lonely idiot.

Lying on his bed, contemplating the enormity of his mistake, he stared at his phone and considered for the thousandth time calling Estelle and asking her to pass on his number or email via Judith. Really, what was the worst that could happen? Flat-out rejection? Yuri would think he was an even bigger creep than he'd made himself out to be the first time they'd met?

Screwing up his courage...he sent her a text with his request. She would be curious and there would be questions, but at least he wouldn't lose his nerve like he might have given the chance to avoid asking if he'd phoned up up to talk. With a sigh, he tossed his phone aside on the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

"You're here," he muttered mockingly. "Might as well have pointed out that he's real."

Honestly, he had more immediate concerns than what Yuri thought of him. Stan was gone, moved out with a friend of his two days ago. Why he hadn't done so sooner was a mystery. He was practically Ari's shadow. Either way, it left Flynn with a problem. He needed someone else to cover half the rent, otherwise he was going to be forced to move back in with his mom. He'd posted a notice online and put up fliers on campus and in a nearby cafe frequented by students, but he hadn't heard back from anyone just yet. There had to be something else he could do to find a roommate.

His phone rang, probably Estelle calling to ask him about the text. He reached for it blindly, picked up and held it to his ear. "Hey, Estelle."

There was a second of silence before he heard a welcome voice, one just a bit deeper than he had always imagined, and roughened a little by the speaker. "Heh. So you are the same guy."

Slowly, eyes wide with disbelief, Flynn raised himself up onto his knees. He cradled the phone, and reminded himself to try not to come across like a complete idiot a second time.

"Yuri...?"

"Yup. I found this flier hung up in this great little cafe. Since my roommate just moved out, I'm looking for a new place to stay. Interested?"

He could picture Yuri standing in front of the cafe's front window, phone held to his ear, a smirk on his face. It had been hot the past few days, so he'd have tied his hair up instead of leaving it loose. Black tank top, worn jeans, scuffed sneakers. Yuri. His man in the mirror.

"How soon can you come take a look at the apartment?"