Title; Lined with Silver
Warning; alternate universe, supernatural, teen & cocky! Arthur
Summary; Arthur moves from the big city of Chicago to the small town of Limbo. Everything in the town is to his liking— well, everything except for the full-body mirror, that contains a British man with ridiculous fashion sense, in his new bedroom.
Disclaimer; if only, ohoho ~
Author's Notes; So I discovered that I don't add enough description in my stories; here, I tried to add more, as you can see from the length. I hope I didn't add too much, though. I didn't want to bore you guys. :C Other than that! This will be my new project next to a few other E/A fics. I'm hoping to have next chapter out in a week ~. Reviews and constructive criticism are loved. Annnd if any of you are willing to beta, message me! Uhm ... that's it, I think. Hope you enjoyyy ~

The one thing Arthur hated about moving was that he would need to rearrange his possessions to fit his new room. All the button ups, all the dress pants, all the books, all the other things necessary to his room— all of it would certainly take him day and night to complete sorting, or so it seemed.

But Arthur wasn't one to complain; he had nothing better to do at this moment, which was surprising considering that most eighteen years olds would be out and about, partying and doing things that weren't quite legal. Arthur was far from that, actually. He despised any sort of parties, especially the ones that would blast music at two in the morning (his previous neighbor was a prime example of this sort of partying). And above all, Arthur was a rule follower. He would shut himself off from the profanity and cheat sheets. It wasn't as if he needed either anyways; his cold glare alone was enough to be categorized as 'going off' on someone, and the tests he took were all easy.

Needless to say, Arthur was a perfectionist, and he had no problem with being called or teased for that manner. What was the problem was only temporarily, and that was how he was going to set up his bedroom. Compared to the rooms he had resided in previously, his room was rather large, but it was no larger than the master bedroom itself.

Arthur enjoyed the capacity he was given, but it was almost as if it was too much. There were large spaces between the bed and his dresser, his dresser and his desk, his desk and the door to the full bathroom, and the bath to a full-body mirror.

Arthur frowned, but it wasn't from the fact that his new room was spacious; it was because there was a full-length mirror sitting at the corner of his room, on the right side of his bed, its glass dusty, which gave him the conclusion that no one had touched it in a bit of time. Why it was still there, sitting out in the open and not cleared along with the rest of the previous owner's possessions, was a mystery to him.

Deciding that it was best to ignore it now and have his father move it when he finished unpacking, Arthur turned towards the boxes stacked around. In total, there were seven; two full of his books, three full of his clothes, and two filled with other items necessary to his room.

He targeted his clothes first, since the very idea of having his pressed, nice button-ups and dress pants folded up was absolutely horrible. Even the sight of it when he opened the box made the corner of his mouth twitch. Thus why Arthur was moving quickly as he removed the clothes from the box to the hangers on the closet.

It was a good thirty minutes later that he had successfully hung up and ordered all his shirts by color and style. The pants proved to be easier, seeing that they were much faster in terms of hanging up.

An hour proceeding the opening of the first box, Arthur found himself standing at the foot of his walk in closet, his arms folded across his chest, his lips pressed into a thin line. The entire appearance of how his closet was organized bothered him. It didn't have the same feel as it did back at his old house.

Nevertheless, he huffed, turned, and started opening the boxes that contained his books. He figured the entire emotion of his closet would warm up to him once he actually got use of it; there was really no point, after all, to rearrange everything.

The books that weighed in his hands were heavy as he shifted over to his dresser and pulled one of the drawers open. Considering that a desk wasn't built into his new room yet, Arthur figured that it was suitable to stick his books, spine up, in his drawer. After all, it wasn't like he was going to use the drawers when every piece of clothing was in the closet. As he set the books down, he thanked God that he was the one that packed for himself; else, he wouldn't have all the books in order by the author's last name, which of course, would make him a very irritated teenager.

The time neared noon when he finished clearing out the boxes. And still, the room he was residing in felt spacious. No matter the calendar he put up, the alarm clock and lamp decorating the nightstand beside his queen-sized bed, the triple layers of blankets smoothed over said bed, and the pillowcases pulled over the pillows, the place still didn't have a home feeling to it.

Arthur blamed the dusty, oval shaped, full-body mirror lined with a silver frame that sat at the side of his room. But of course, it was childish of him to even blame an unanimated object, so he just blamed the architects of this particular house. And with that, he dismissed himself from the atmosphere of what he called his room and made his way down the stairs.

Even though nearly three hours had passed since their arrival, the men hired to help set up the technology, electricity, and other necessity still lingered around. Arthur frowned at the sight of them, but dared not to complain; without them, he wouldn't have access to any electronics or air conditioning system. And to put it quite bluntly, the summer temperatures were getting to him. This explained why he was flanked in a t-shirt and shorts rather than his usual wear of button-ups and dress pants.

His father wasn't in similar conditions. Unlike the suits he wore daily, no matter the occasion, his father was dressed in a light blue button-up, his sleeves rolled up, and dark slacks. Comparing his outfit to his father's, Arthur dawned down upon the fact that he looked rather foolish. He wanted nothing more than to bolt up the stairs and change, but unfortunately, his father caught him before he could make his escape. Much to his luck, though, his father didn't even bother to make a comment about the clothes he wore, which were courtesy of his aunt's gift from a good year or two ago. He was inwardly glad for her, and also for his father for not asking why he was wearing the outrageous clothing.

What his father did ask, though, was if he was finished unpacking. Proud that he did, Arthur gave a curt nod. His father grunted in response before turning back to the two workers that had their hands on their flat-screen television. "What do you think of this position, Arthur?" his father asked, nodding once at what he was looking at.

Arthur examined the way the electronic device was settled. It looked fine to him. Yet, before he could voice his opinion, his father already commanded the hired workers to shift it to the left slightly.

"No, your left, not mine."

The teenage male rolled his eyes at the workers' stupidity, but spoke nothing of it. Instead, he merely bid his father a goodbye before heading off to find his mother.

She was surrounded by boxes filled with dresses, shirts, and other sorts of clothing by time Arthur reached the master bedroom, which, he might add, was nearly twice the side of his bedroom and painted a brilliant shade of gold. Compared to his pale gray walls, Arthur much preferred this particular room; it, unlike his own, had a welcoming feeling to it. But, like before, he wasn't about to complain and give his mother or father a reason to spend a few more bucks so that painters could come in and paint his walls a different color.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Arthur greeted his mother, who returned the favor and added a small smile to it. To that, he merely turned his gaze to inspect the room while hating the fact that he was always awkward around his own mother. It wasn't as if he didn't like her, least, enjoy her company; it was because he never actually grew close to her. It was always between him and his father in just about anything. The only time he contributed to his mother was when she started the conversations (which would end rather quickly and equally awkwardly) or when she asked him questions (to which he would answer immediately and have their discussion end there). And truthfully, Arthur tried; he tried, at the very least, to hold a suitable conversation with his mother on any topic possible, but none of his attempts passed five minutes of talk since both of them would fall silent. Here, the situation was the same as before.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"No, it's quite alright. Have you finished unpacking?" A warm smile tinted her lips as she paused at her unpacking and turned her attention to him.

Arthur nodded slowly. "Yes, I have. And—" he cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to disturb the awkward atmosphere. It didn't work, but he continued, nonetheless. "Are you sure you don't need—? I can help with father's —"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. Least you can do is drive around the town and see everything it offers?"

Arthur was rather unsure if the suggestion alone was a simple suggestion or a means of trying to get him out of the room. Whichever it was, he took the idea under his wing.

After nodding once to his mother to acknowledge her suggestion, he retreated from the master bedroom and headed back to his own. Luckily, he left his car keys and wallet on the nightstand, so it was easy to sweep up. Though, as he turned back to head out, his eyes caught onto a flash of movement. His primary reaction was his breath catching in his throat, yet, passing it off as nothing, he regained his even breathing.

When he had settled his pounding heart, his eyes skimmed the room. There wasn't a way that he imagined movement, unless the condition of the room itself was getting to him. His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he slowly peered around once more.

On the second time around, he caught sight of a change: on the dusty mirror were what appeared to be letters. A frown tinted his lips as his eyes narrowed on the mirror. From where he stood, he could see that the letters were backwards, as if someone had written on the other side of the mirror. Even though they were inverse, Arthur could clearly make out four words: don't be frightened, darling.

His reaction was uncaring. Rolling his eyes and passing it off as one of the worker's jokes, Arthur moved out of his room, keys and wallet in his right hand. After a quick comment to his father informing him of where he was going and about a worker venturing into his room, Arthur picked up his cellphone from where it sat charging with two others (his mother's and father's), and made his way to his vehicle.

The sight of his silver BMW that was given to him for his sixteenth birthday last year gave him a relieved feeling every time he set his eyes on it. Arthur wasn't sure why it gave him the particular emotion, but he simply passed it off as the feeling of being free. Behind the wheel, being able to control the automobile— he found it as a way to finally relax and breathe. Not to mention, the ride around the town was soothing as well.

Unlike Chicago, there wasn't any sort of disturbance in the streets anywhere. In fact, the town was far from something like that. At this time, a few people strolled around, probably enjoying their last few days of summer. A handful lounged outside on their porch, waving to the pedestrians as they passed. Overall, the whole town set a friendly atmosphere, much to Arthur's liking. He always preferred the peace and quiet rather the loud and rowdy. Thus why this town proved to be better than the city he once resided in. For once, he was glad that his mother's choice overrode his father's, even though that would mean that he had to attend a public school.

At that thought, a soft frown dawned on the corners of his lips. He had been enrolled in private schools for most of his life, so the thought of not wearing uniforms made him cringe. He had never ventured into a public school building before either, but from the talks of it, he assumed that they were nothing but dirty, like most buildings.

The buildings that passed by during his joyride contradicted that. Some were old fashioned, but none appeared to have any sort of spray paint on them like what he usually saw back in the city. But still, that didn't mean the people in it weren't the same. At the moment, he can only hope that everyone was suitable. So far, they were fair, seeing from those before, but that was nothing considering that the whole crowd wasn't full of teenagers.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the thought of the population with teenagers alone. They were wild, most of them, at the very least, and growing up in a rich and formal family, Arthur was one of the handfuls that minded the rules.

Although, he almost ran the stop sign. Almost.

Luckily, he eased on the brake before continuing on as if nothing happened. His thoughts, though, changed from the topic of teenagers to the school he was pulling up to.

Limbo High School wasn't large compared to his private school, but Arthur could only imagine it was because of the population of the town itself. There weren't many people according to the information he had found on the particular area. Other than that, the building looked plain, which was not worth checking out. Pulling out of the lot, he continued down the road, his chocolate brown eyes surveying the area for a place of interest.

He came across a tidy, fair, and nicely decorated cafe. Seeing that this was the most impressive place he crossed paths with within the town, Arthur pulled into a lot and made his way over to the small cafe. The smell of coffee and other bakery items lingered in the air and greeted him the moment he strolled into the place. He glanced around; the walls were painted a warm shade of brown, matching to the tables, flooring, counter, and other accessories around. There were only a few people loitered around. A man in his older years sat in a corner, a cup of coffee in front of him, newspaper masking his face. To his left was a young couple, quietly speaking with each other and laughing occasionally. Across the room was a woman decked out in a business outfit; she dabbed her lips with a napkin for a split second before resuming her scribbling. Then, there was a table of three teenagers looking no older than fourteen; and even they were adding to the warm atmosphere.

Aside from the customers, a lone figure stood behind the counter lightly rapping her fingernails against the table top as she gazed from him to the other beings in the cafe. She straightened up, though, when he stopped inspecting the place and started to walk in her direction.

"Hello, what can I get you?"

Arthur pressed his lips firmly together as he eyed the menu above the waitress's head. It was much like every other cafe he had been to: coffee, juice, other drinks, sandwiches, and pastries. After a moment of consideration, he drew his gaze back.

"Three cappuccinos."

He watched as she typed in the prices from her memory, which meant one of two things; cappuccinos were popular among the cafe or the waitress simply memorized the whole menu. Either way, he didn't have time to linger on the thought.

The young female glanced up from the cash register and offered him a small smile. "Is that all?"

Arthur noted that her voice was lower than most of the girls that squeal on a regular basis. Though, the voice matched with the girl's appearance; her dark brown curls were drawn back into a ponytail, and she wore barely any make up aside from the usual blush.

Said female quirked an eyebrow and repeated the question.

Embarrassed that he didn't answer right away, he nodded once. At the moment, he didn't trust his voice; he had been, after all, caught inspecting the girl, but unlike others, it was for a different reason. The girl was a teenager, his age, he imagined, and she was rather stunning, appearance-wise, but aside from the fact that she was a teenager and pretty, Arthur didn't have much of an interest.

She, on the other hand, wasn't hiding her smile, which gave him the idea that she was interested, but he quickly waved that thought off; he didn't want to be caught in the drama teenagers usually caused.

Without word, he paid for the three drinks and gazed elsewhere to avoid staring at her like he did before. Unfortunately, she started speaking to him after she called out the orders to someone named Yusuf. And honestly, all Arthur could think of at the time of the question was 'what kind of a name is Yusuf?', because he had never heard the name before. Yet, passing it off as a foreign name, he turned back to the girl to acknowledge her question. She rolled her eyes and began to repeat herself, but he quickly cut her off before any further embarrassment could be brought to him.

"I heard what you asked. Yes, I'm new here. My family and I moved in this morning."

To be honest, Arthur wasn't sure if the cold tone in his voice was intentional or not. He had been on the edge ever since the female repeated herself the first time, nonetheless, caught him staring, but at the same time, he didn't really have a right to be rude to the female. She wasn't rude to him, or at least, not yet. Though, the sharp words he allowed to escape from his mouth did seem to trigger the young female's attitude.

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from the counter.

"Okay, okay. Just asking."

She then continued to mutter something (probably unintelligent) under her breath before serving him his orders.

"Have a good day."

The tone of her voice matched his own a few moments back; it was pointed and dark with no emotion other than dislike behind it. For a second, Arthur was prepared to shoot something back, but he luckily caught himself before he could say something else. After all, he didn't want to make the situation worse than of already was. Besides, it was only his first day in the town; he didn't want a bad impression.

Holding that thought, he held out his hand to other.

"I'm Arthur."

It was one of the most awkward moment of his life. He felt as if he just drew himself from some sort of verbal cat fight before trying to make peace by introducing himself and sticking out his hand to shake. Not to mention, he was beginning to feel the embarrassment as well. His body began to tingle, initiating the thought that people within the cafe were watching him, but he didn't dare lower his hand; it would only make him more embarrassed as well as give him an appearance of a coward.

Fortunately, the girl snapped out of her trance rather quickly and shook his hand. Her grip was tight and the shake was firm, but it was shook only twice before she let her hand draw away. Yet, preceding that was her introduction.

"Ariadne."

Arthur hadn't heard much of that name, but he thought it had a nice tone to it. Or at least, a nicer tone than Yusuf.

He gave a curt nod and weighed the three drinks in his hands.

"Have a nice day, Ariadne."

This time around, she did smile.

"You too."

Her voice lifted from the bitterness, much to Arthur's liking.

Seeing that the whole ordeal was resolved, he made his way back towards his car, feeling as if he was rather accomplished in socializing with someone from the town.

As Arthur started his automobile and pulled out of the lot, he lifted the cappuccino to his lips and took a sip. Surprisingly, it was near perfection as the one from the cafe back in Chicago with just the right amount of cinnamon blended within. He would need to send his regards to Yusuf for making cappuccino this fair, but that was noted to do later, when and if he decided to go back.

For now, his main concern was carrying three drinks back into the house without carelessly tripping over the few remaining boxes strewn between the two moving vans. Much to his luck, he made it safely inside and delivered his drink to the nearby table. Now, weighing the remaining cappuccinos in his left and right hand, he strolled throughout the first level of the house in search for his father. Instead of finding his father like he expected, Arthur found himself faced with his mother, who was placing canned goods into the pantry.

As he stepped in, she peered up. Her eyes immediately smiled, which reflected the expression on her lips.

"Back already?"

At the question, he nodded twice before placing the cup of cappuccino on an empty shelf next to her.

"I just dropped by the cafe."

Not wanting to stick around for an attempt in conversation, Arthur turned and stepped out of the pantry. A second following that, he halted to the sound of his mother calling out his name. Reluctant, he gazed over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

Her response was a soft smile. "Thank you."

To that, he simply gave another nod. "You're welcome."

Having nothing else to say, Arthur ushered out of the area.

After picking up his own drink, he proceeded up the stairs and into the master bedroom, where he found his father ordering the workers to put up the portraits accordingly. His conversation, if you can even call it one, with his father was shorter than the one he had a few moments ago. His father merely thanked him for the drink before shooing him off, and not wanting to bother, Arthur removed himself from the bedroom and attended his own.

The moment he stepped into his room, he knew it had been tampered with. The mirror, which was the first thing he paid attention to, was dust-free. The letters were gone, and the glass shone as if it had just been cleaned less than ten minutes ago. There was no doubt that a worker, or his mother, came in and tidied it. And even though it looked new and polished, the fact that it still cast an eerie atmosphere to his room made him a bit hesitant to actually settle back down.

He tore his gaze away and emptied his pockets and hands of the cappuccino, car keys, and cellphone onto the nightstand. When that motion was done, Arthur froze once more. Some sort of shiver shot down his spine unconsciously, and never before in his life was he actually frightened to look behind him, where the mirror sat.

After careful consideration, he turned around, his heart rapping against his heart at an amazing rate. He didn't see why, though. There was absolutely nothing odd about the full-body mirror aside from the fact that it was in his room.

He shook his head and reverted his attention to his nightstand. All three items were untouched, seeing that they were in the same exact place. Yet, he found himself trying to figure out why the hair on the back of his neck was rising. His only reason was the mirror, but that was ridiculous; he had been around mirrors before. It was just this particular one that made him uncomfortable. Not sparing another moment in the room, he turned and hurried out.

It was only a few seconds later that he had to return in order to pick up his ringing phone. Fortunately, it was one of his suitable friends from Chicago, and at the moment, the person became his best friend for calling at the moment when he needed distraction the most.

He wasted no time to flip open his phone and place it against his ear.

"Robert," he greeted while desperately trying to swat away the uneasy feeling that enveloped him the moment he stepped foot into the room.

"Arthur. Have you settled down yet?"

Tugging at the ends of his shirt, he answered. "I have. Mother and father are still unpacking and arranging everything. How are you doing?"

There was a sigh at the other line.

He knew what that meant; Robert was going to say something along the lines of his social problems.

And sure enough, a second later, his friend answered in a familiar manner. "Had another row with my father."

Of course; while most teenagers are worried about finding love, fitting in, and things along those lines, Robert was worried about not being able to bond properly with his father since his father obviously thought of him as anything but a son.

Arthur felt himself roll his eyes as that was told.

For the years he had been companions with Robert, which was ever since childhood (considering that Robert's father and his own were on good terms), he heard nothing aside from dispute between his friend and his father. Yet, that wasn't any of his problem. Robert, on the other hand, was apparently thinking that it was, seeing that he began to lay down the details of their last fight.

"He doesn't think highly of me. I'm not sure what I did wrong."

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his free hand.

He turned and stepped towards the door, but stopped abruptly. As Robert was half way complaining about his relationship with his father, the cellphone in Arthur's hand slipped out and fell to the floor. His brown eyes were wide, and his face displayed shock as he stared at the mirror in horror. He could have sworn, for a fleeting second, that he saw someone else in the full-body mirror. It wasn't him, he was sure of, since the figure, if he remembered correctly from memory, had a tattered, dirty light pink button up followed by black, and probably torn as well, trousers. Yet, it was only for a flick of a second; Arthur wasn't entirely sure if he saw correctly, if it was his pure imagination, or maybe just plain paranoia?

At the moment, he could really care less.

Picking up the phone, he quickly made his way out of his bedroom. At the midpoint of the hallway, he caught himself and attempted to breathe evenly again. In his hands, Robert was nearly shouting on the other line. When Arthur put the phone to his ear again, he heard the other practically yelling "are you alright?" into the cellular device. To this, Arthur answered quickly. "I'm fine. I need to go. Talk to you later."

Without saying more, he clasped the phone shut and made a beeline towards the master bedroom. He knew he was overreacting, but the mirror had to be gone, and lucky for him, the workers were still about. Still with an irregular heartbeat, he approached his father with the situation.

"There's a mirror in my room. I want it gone. Now."

His father usually complied to what he would demand, but this time around, his father didn't, or at least, not immediately.

"Not now, Arthur. I'll send a worker in there to remove it later."

Arthur didn't know when 'later' was, but it was obviously not today, considering that the mirror was still there when he watched the workers leave four hours after he requested the object to be removed. He consulted his father again about the matter. This time, his father told him that he would move it tomorrow since he was in a tiring condition already. And of course, giving his father the worthwhile rest, Arthur turned and tried to deal with the mirror itself.

He didn't last long; he tried to suppress the uneasy feeling as he strolled back into his given room to grab his drink and cellphone, but the awkward aura didn't cease. He quickly made his way out of said room after that, and the hours proceeding his exit, he steered clear of the place. He considered telling his father about the whole ordeal, but his father would only think that he was being ridiculous, or at the very least, think he had gone insane. Objects appearing in the mirror, after all, were nothing but mere reflections.

Then, why did he see something else? Nothing within the room was a shade of pink.

Arthur puzzled over this for the remaining hours of the day while lounging on the sofa. He knew he had better things to be doing, but he didn't faze in his current position. In fact, he only shifted slightly every few moments. When his mother called for dinner (which was carry out, unfortunately), he was rather reluctant to move, yet with the protests of his stomach, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen.

Arthur found himself eating some sort of noodles for dinner, which was a first in a long time, considering that it was take-out. He ate in silence next to his mother (his father claimed that he would eat later). Though he tried to ignore it, he could feel his mother's gaze upon him, and when he actually looked up in her direction, her sights were elsewhere. He had glanced up many times, thinking that perhaps he could mend the broken relationship he had with her, but at the last moment, he would drop his gaze and push the idea away.

Fifteen minutes later, he removed himself from the table, dumped his trash, and proceeded to his original position. Five minutes later, he heard his mother throw away her trash before heading up the stairs.

It was a nearly an hour later that he decided to follow her footsteps. The house was quiet as well as dark, giving Arthur an eerie sense, but nonetheless, he squashed the feeling and slowly made his way back to his room.

A few moments back, he had debated on whether or not to sleep in his room. They did, after all, have two guest rooms, but unfortunately, neither of them were furnished with a bed. In addition to that, he was sure that his father wouldn't be impressed if he slept on the couch when there was a comfortable bed in his room waiting for him. So, he made his decision; he would sleep in his room, but he would sleep in a position that would prevent him from seeing the mirror. That would mean that he would have to sleep on his left side the entire night. Arthur wasn't opposed to that, but he feared waking up on his right side, which would make him look at the mirror. Then again, it was just a mirror. He told himself this repeatedly, but no matter how much he wanted to believe his own words, his fear would rise up and take over. But he was a grown man; things like this shouldn't faze him as much as it did. He was just being ludicrous.

Holding onto that rather positive thought, he slipped into the room. He dared not look in the mirror's direction despite the fact that he was curious to. Instead, he merely strolled to his closet, grabbed the things needed for a shower, before shutting himself into the bathroom.

The bathroom was nicely decorated, though it was smaller than the one he expected. It contained a simple shower area, a sink, a toilet, and a closet to store towels, other necessities and whatnot. After placing his neatly folded t-shirt and sweatpants along with the towel on the rail outside of the shower and the soaps at the foot of it, Arthur stripped out of his current clothes and stepped into said shower.

He felt his muscles start to relax under the hot pouring water, and much to his enjoyment, he became relieved as well. The stress that tailed along with moving, starting school in a few days, and the mirror seemed to have drifted off elsewhere as he allowed the water to run down his body like fluttered touches.

He poured a bit of shampoo in his hair and gently massaged his head as he moved the soap around. After rinsing his head, he advanced onto the body soap. Touching his own body never felt more pleasurable as he rubbed his shoulders in order to spread the soap. As he finally finished up, Arthur shut off the shower and opened its door to grab his towel.

He dried and dressed himself in silence, thinking nothing more than how he would manage to sleep tonight knowing that that mirror was there. He could move it, but that would mean that he would have to draw near it, and since it was too close to the wall, he wouldn't be able to go behind it and move it from that way either.

Gathering up his dirty clothes, he tossed it into the foot of his closet, underneath his hanging shirts. Making a mental note to get some sort of basket, Arthur closed both closet doors and paced towards his parents room. His mother was found in her closet; with a kiss on her cheek, he bid her good night. As for his father, he found him downstairs, eating. When 'good nights' were successfully transferred, he returned to his bedroom.

After turning off the lights, he tried his best not to act childish and run to his bed in order to climb under the covers and shut himself from the fear that welled up inside him. Apparently, he still had a childish side to him, even though, in the end, he merely picked up his pace as he neared the bed and climbed into it without looking once in the mirror's direction.

He slept on his side, or at least, he tried to; it was hard, considering that he already developed the habit of sleeping on his back and facing right, but he forced himself into the position. When it didn't work out a few minutes later, Arthur rolled onto his back, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his head right to the comfortable position that he was usually in every night.

As he tried to sleep, a million thoughts ran through his mind. He found himself unable to fall asleep, since he was busy listening to his echoes in his head about how he was just seeing things and all the eerie feeling to his room was because it wasn't the a room he was accustomed to. Though, of course, that led him to the point where he compared everything in this particular house to the one in Chicago. A few moments proceeding that were the thoughts of his companions. He wasn't close to anyone aside from Robert Fischer Jr., so he could imagine his class not even caring about him not being there next year to snag the title of the top student.

Eventually, Arthur drifted to a light sleep the moment he thought about the schools.

It was a dreamless sleep and relatively short. He woke up to the sound of movement. He wasn't sure where it came from exactly, but he knew it was on his right. Considering that he was facing the ceiling, he debated on whether to check it out or not. In the end, he passed it off as nothing. His eyes closed again, but he didn't fall asleep easily.

Twenty minutes following that, he heard the shuffles again. This time, he did look, and this time, he saw it.

There was a figure in the mirror, illuminated slightly by the moonlight seeping through the bedroom's blinds. The brunet male wore the same clothes as he memorized from earlier— battered pink button up and black slacks.

Arthur wanted to believe that it was his pure imagination, but his sights proved his wanted thoughts wrong.

There was definitely a man in the mirror, and that man wasn't him.