I had a dream that you were split. Two of you were created: The one I loved and the one you loved. In the dream, the one I loved smiled sweetly and said so many words of love that I could feel myself swoon in my slumber. The one you loved smiled darkly and whispered words of love in your ear, calling you away from me. As the other you spoke, I could feel you drifting away from me, seduced by whatever poison leaked black from his tongue. I cried to you that we were supposed to be together forever. I reached for you, but he drew you back. At the end of the dream, I clutched darkness, my eyes waking to morning sunlight bleeding through the curtains. I turned to find the empty bed beside me where you once would sleep and I remembered.

You were gone.

It had been a year since it happened. The pain and loneliness were still fresh wounds to my heart. I never thought I would love someone so completely, but you were quickly ripped from my life as though my heart never mattered. It was not your fault, of course. I could never have blamed you for what happened, but the memory of it was still penned so clearly in my mind, ink red like fresh blood dripping into the folds of my brain. It had become my recurring nightmare, even when I was awake.

It seemed like we were perfect together: You were dreamy and fantastical, and I was grounded and steadfast. We needed each other to feel the things that we lacked. Everything was happy and we both seemed so content. We moved in together two years into our relationship and it felt like we would be happy forever. Whispers of marriage fluttered around us.

Then you changed.

It was small things at first, and in the beginning I thought it was the stress of being in a new home and living with someone after being so long on your own. You would get angry over the most minor of things, but apologize so quickly afterward that it all seemed harmless. I was easy to forgive you because a simple mood swing would never make me stop loving you. I could never stop loving you. I still love you, even now.

When things started to escalate, that was when I realized it was more than just mood swings. You had told me that the face in the mirror was not always yours and that he would tell you things that were untrue. You told me that you tried to denounce those things your mirror-self told you, but you would watch me sometimes and think that what he was saying to you may be reality. You told me this with sincerity. You were so genuinely scared that your mirror-self knew everything about me and that I was being false with you this whole time.

I tried to calm you each time you ran to me in hysterics, raving about the words he was telling you. You said he was going to replace you and take you away from me. I told you to stop being silly, that the man in the mirror could not harm you because he was trapped in the mirror.

"But what if he gets out?" You were so very serious; it was worrying me more than you will ever know. "What if he breaks free from the mirror? What if he takes me away? Yifan, what if--"

"He won't, Yixing," I said in the calmest voice I could muster, "and if he does, I'll save you. You're the one I love, not him."

"But he looks like me."

"He's not you," I whispered, holding you tightly. "He only has your face, not your heart. You are the one that I love, Xing."

You whimpered and gripped onto my shirt as though I would disappear in a gust of wind. I kissed the top of your head, muttering words of love into your hair. I remember your light breaths as you fell asleep in my arms, tears stuck to the lashes at the corners of your eyes like morning dew. You were beautiful that night.

Then you left.

I don't remember you leaving, but when the morning came, you were gone. I thought that maybe you had awoken early to surprise me with breakfast. I looked around to find that all traces of you had been erased from our home, leaving only pictures in frames and a few stray articles of clothing where your scent still lingered. You had packed up as much as you could and left me without a word.

I walked into the bathroom, finding the mirror to be shattered from the wall, shards of glass splotched with dried crimson littering the cold, tile floor. I rushed from the bathroom and called your cell phone only to be greeted by an automated voice telling me that the number was no longer in service. I called your friends to ask if they had seen you, knowing that they would say that they had not. I created a chain of worry rippling throughout our circles. Deep inside me, I felt the fear that you had lost the battle against the face who stared at you in the mirror. He took you away from me, just as he had warned, and I slept through the ordeal. I slept instead of fighting him off for you. I broke my promise of saving you.

I searched for you whenever I could, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen you. I found luck eventually, and was directed to a hospital on the other side of town. You had checked yourself in, seeking assistance. It was what I should have done when I first saw the signs, but was too stubborn to admit there was anything wrong with you. Without being a relative, I was disallowed visitation rights, but at least I knew you were all right. I told them that we had been in a relationship for nearly four years, showing the hospital staff the ring I would have given you to finally seal our love forever. They were sympathetic and apologized for the inconvenience.

You, knowing that I had found you, allowed the staff to update me periodically on your progress. You apologized for leaving and the mess in the bathroom. "He was pushing through the glass," you had told me over a monitored phone call. "All I could think to do was destroy the portal."

"You did well against him," I said in a soothing voice. "I'm proud of you, Xing. You were so brave in my absence."

"It wasn't real," you said slowly, "but it felt very real at the time."

"It's fine. You know now that it wasn't real. They say you're doing much better."

"It's the medication that's making me better," you said. I could sense your disgust. "If I don't take it, he comes back, more terrible than ever."

"Do you know who he is," I asked carefully.

"Someone horrible and terrible and hateful."

"No," I said slowly, "he's you, Zhang Yixing."

The sound of your sobbing was terrible over the phone. You hung up and I lost contact with you for a very long time. The medical staff would call sometimes, telling me that you were doing better and better, but their calls became shorter, eventually becoming infrequent, and then they stopped calling altogether.

I would have that dream on those nights when I missed you most. Even if they released you, would you still love me? You were so preoccupied by your reflection that I wondered if you even remembered loving me anymore.

A year passed.

It was one year without you. No words were spoken of you, your friends seemed to move on with their lives as though you had never existed, and it seemed like my only memories of you were dusty pictures in dusty frames and that recurring nightmare. My world was empty without you in it. It was as if a piece of myself had disappeared, leaving a hole shaped like a person in its place. The only person who could fill in that hole was you.

I wondered if I should just move on, but the ring on the nightstand sitting so alone in its box reminded me that it could only be you. We were soul mates. The thought of replacing you with someone else made me feel like the worst human being. I was yours and you were mine.

A year had passed when a familiar number showed itself on my cell phone. I cautiously answered it, existing in a state of disbelief. The voice on the other end was serious in tone and we spoke at length. For a moment, it was hard to know if the conversation was going to turn out well or not, the voice on the other end speaking in a practiced tone that betrayed little to its feelings on the matter. I nodded and asked questions and at the end of the conversation, I could feel wetness at my eyes.

I cleared my schedule for the rest of the week, and the next day I waited outside of the hospital. In one hand I held a bouquet of red roses, the other hand was in my pocket, a jewelry box containing a small gold ring. The minutes ticked away slowly until a person, shaped like the hole in my heart, carefully walked into the outside world.

You carried luggage filled of the belongings you had smuggled away that terrible night one year ago and wore a smile that seemed even more genuine than any I had ever seen before. When you saw me, you burst into tears as you rushed up to me, slipping your arms around my waist and burying your face into my coat. Mutterings of "I love you" and "I missed you so much" were muffled into the material you stained with your tears. You managed to pull away long enough to smile tearfully, lift yourself onto your tiptoes, and press the most loving kiss onto my lips that I had ever experienced.

"You saved me," you mumbled into my lips.

"How so?"

You looked into my confused face and laughed. "Because you were right," you returned to your flat feet. "He was me all along. When I could accept that, he wasn't so intimidating anymore."

I smiled, presenting to you the roses in my hand, which you took and looked over with a fondness that seemed almost childlike. "I kept my promise without even knowing it."

"You did, and I'm so very glad it was you."

I picked up your bags and you looped your arm around mine, staying near to me as we left. In my pocket was the ring I would give to you that very night as we became reacquainted. And now, you wear that ring every day, from now until forever. I didn't break my promise.

I saved you.