Namjoon stepped out of the car and sighed heavily. Moving had always been a hassle, but this time would take the cake. He looked up at the building in front of him, the many meters of concrete towering up towards the sky. It wasn’t a pretty building, that was for sure, but the apartment is bigger than his previous and the rent almost the same. From now on he would have three rooms to live in, excluding kitchen and bathroom. These wonderful circumstances were something he looked forward to.

When he had moved everything up into his apartment.

“Come on, Namjoon, quit staring, start carrying,” his mother told him and clapped him on the back. Namjoon sighed again but followed his mother to the back of the trailer they had borrowed for the day. Inside waited his furniture and most of his boxes of stuff. His father was pulling out his small dining table.

“You two better take this first,” his father said and Namjoon rushed over to help. “Do you have the keys, Namjoon?”

“I got them,” he replied and took over from his father.

“We’ll go up with this then,” Namjoon’s mother said. “Are you going to stay until we come back?” she asked her husband.

“I’m going to carry some things just inside the door,” his father said, and they parted so that they could carry the table up to the fourth floor. The stairs weren’t wide, so they were going to have hell carrying up his bed and sofa. He wasn’t looking forward to it. His heavy mixing gear was going to be a hassle as well with all those stairs.

“We won’t need to exercise for the rest of the year after this,” his mother said as they put the table down in front of his locked door.

Namjoon laughed breathlessly. “Yeah,” he nodded and fumbled with the key to get it in the keyhole. When he finally unlocked it, they carried the table inside.

“This really is a nice apartment,” his mother commented when they had put the table down in the living room. She proceeded to go through all the rooms to inspect them. The walls were white and the wooden floors were newly polished. There was carpet in the two bedrooms, which Namjoon was grateful for. The floor wouldn’t be too cold when he stepped out in the mornings.

“Come on, we’ve got more things to get up here,” Namjoon said to his mother, as she was looking at the cabinet room in the kitchen.

“No need to rush, sweetie,” his mother replied, continuing to open and close every cabinet.

“What was it you said to me earlier? Quit staring, start carrying?” Namjoon laughed.

“Ha, ha,” his mother deadpanned. However, she did close the cabinet and went down the stairs with Namjoon. This was going to be a long day with all those stairs and no elevator.

 

“I’m exhausted,” Namjoon said and threw himself on the couch next to his mother.

“You and me both, sweetie,” his mother replied.

“Good thing I’m driving home then,” his father laughed and gave them a glass of water each.

“Thank you, dear,” his mother thanked her husband, before turning to Namjoon. “Do you have everything you need? Toilet paper, food for dinner and breakfast?”

“Yes, mom,” he nodded. She had asked the same thing before they had left his previous apartment. He had done this before, he knew what he needed. He also had food and toilet paper that he had already bought for his previous apartment, so he didn’t know why his mother asked.

“Are you sure?” his father asked. “It wouldn’t be the first time you forgot.”

Namjoon groaned. “That was four years ago, when I moved the first time.”

“Just make sure you don’t move for another two years,” his mother said. “Those stairs were brutal against my weak and helpless form.”

Namjoon laughed along with his father. His mother hadn’t been out of shape since she was 17, so she was the most prepared for those stairs out of all of them.

“Should I take down the mirror in your bedroom before we go?” his father asked. The people who had lived in the apartment previously had forgotten a large ornate mirror in the bedroom.

Namjoon shook his head. “No need, I’ll figure something out or you can do it next time you visit,” he replied.

“Listen, he just wants to get rid of us,” his father said, mock hurt in his voice.

“Kids these days,” Namjoon’s mother joined in in the same tone. Rolling his eyes, Namjoon got up from the couch with his glass to put it in the kitchen. When he came back, his mother was complaining about her old age and aching bones to his father, who joined in the chorus of complaint.

“You guys sound like grandma and grandpa,” he told them dryly, hoping they could see he was judging them to the moon and back.

“My son, he wounds me!” his mother cried dramatically in his father’s shoulder.

“Wherever did we go wrong?” his father replied just as dramatically.

Namjoon merely raised an eyebrow. His parents started laughing in return, standing up one by one.

“No, we’re proud of you Namjoon,” his father said. “In a year you’ll be finished with your masters, and you’ve done so well so far.”

“We’re glad you’ve made friends as well, we know it was hard for you in high school,” his mother added. He felt a lump beginning to form in his throat. His parents had the weirdest times to tell him they were proud and he had done well. He appreciated it, of course he did, but it always felt a bit awkward with receiving compliments so he didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you?” he asked more than said. His mother drew him into a hug.

“Take care of yourself, okay,” she told him as she almost squeezed the life out of him. His mother was shorter than him, only reaching his shoulder.

“Don’t I always?” he choked out.

“No, you don’t,” she answered. “I know how clumsy you are and that you forget to eat when working.”

“True,” Namjoon said reluctantly. He had lived with his parents until he was 20, so she knew him way too well. She let go of him, and his father came over to give him a hug too. He was almost the same height as Namjoon, which made the probability of choking less.

“Try to eat something proper sometimes, instead of instant ramen and frozen pizza,” his father told him when he let go.

“Yeah, I will,” Namjoon promised. “Hobi said I could visit him and Yoongi whenever, to get something proper to eat,” he told them.

“We owe your life to those two,” his mother grinned, to which Namjoon rolled his eyes. It was true, but that didn’t mean he’d admit it.

After more worries from his parents, they finally left with a last goodbye hug. He was on his own again. With no further ado, he started setting up his speaker system, with his phone playing music until he could get proper sound. After that, he connected his small TV to the system. The rest of the day passed with him setting up all his electronics and equipment for his studio. Suddenly it was evening, and he decided for a break to eat.

His parents had somehow sneaked in a few containers of food in his fridge without him noticing. He sent off a text to thank them, before heating and eating. After that, he looked through his remained boxes for his bed sheets. It wasn’t that late, but he was tired after a long day of moving, so he wanted to use the rest of the evening under his duvet. He had a few movies he wanted to watch, so that was his plan. There wasn’t any internet yet, but he had enough data on his phone for an evening of movies and the rest of the month.

Getting into his pajamas, he felt kind of giddy. The song on his speakers was good, he had a new large apartment to a cheap price, so he started to dance to his best ability. His best ability was horrible as he had never been a dancer, but alone in his new apartment where no one could see him was the place to bust a move. He wiggled his and made waves with arms. A small jump to the side and he tried to moonwalk (and failed) in his bedroom. The guitar solo was coming up soon, so he pulled his leg up to use it as a guitar.

Someone laughed.

Namjoon’s leg dropped to the floor instantly and he spun around. There was no one in the room, but he swore he had heard someone laugh as clear as day. Maybe sound carried more than he thought and it was one of his neighbors? Brushing it off as nothing, the music stopped for half a second before the beat dropped. Nobody would be able to resist it, so he started wiggling his entire body in somewhat correlation to the beat. This was one of his favorite songs. This was a song you let yourself go to. This was-

“I like your moves,” someone said, loud and clear next to him.

Namjoon screamed. Looking back at him from the ornate mirror, wasn’t himself, but a boy about his age with brown hair and wide shoulders. The boy took to his ears, but Namjoon kept screaming and pointed at where his reflection was supposed to be.

“Please stop, you’re going to attract attention from the neighbors!” the boy pleaded loudly. Namjoon stopped instantly, shutting his mouth tightly. What if this was some angry ghost? Was this why the apartment was so cheap? It was haunted. The boy in the mirror slowly took his hands from his ears.

“Sorry,” the boy apologized, which didn’t sound very angry ghost-like. “You can take your arm down, you know?”

Namjoon let his hand that had been pointing at the boy in mirror fall down to his side. His mind was at a standstill. All he could think about was that there was a boy in his mirror and no reflection of himself.

“You still look pale,” the boy muttered, but Namjoon didn’t get what the boy in the mirror meant. All he knew that the boy in the mirror was not him, even though it was supposed to be. “Sorry, I’ll… I’ll go? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

And then the boy was gone. In his place was Namjoon looking pale and wide-eyed, his actual reflection. For a while, he just stood there, waiting for the boy to come back and hoping he wouldn’t. This was crazy. He was crazy. He was hallucinating. However, the boy didn’t come back for the next two songs, so Namjoon started relaxing again. It was just the tiredness of moving. It couldn’t be real. He had been hallucinating.

Finally moving, he went to the living room to turn off the music, before slipping into bed. It was uncomfortable and creepy with the mirror in the room, but he had only been hallucinating. Everything would be forgotten in the morning. With music playing on his phone next to his pillow (just so he felt a little safer in a room with a mirror hallucination), he fell asleep.

 

Next morning greeted him with Hoseok waking him with a call. His friend had been up since the crack of dawn, practicing before work. Apparently, it wasn’t morning anymore, but noon, and he had promised to pick him up from the café after work in one hour. Namjoon couldn’t remember that promise, but he just rolled with it. It was Hoseok’s way of saying he wanted company sometimes. That or he had actually promised and forgotten.

Either way, he had an hour to get dressed and get to the café. It wasn’t until he was fully clothed and looking for his power bank, that he remembered the mirror incident from last night. Slowly and carefully he went up to the mirror and poked it, before leaping back. Nothing happened. He waved his hand a few times in front of it, but once more nothing happened.

Of course. It had just been a trick of his tired mind. Maybe it had just been a dream. There was no telling.

With a chuckle at his own silliness, he continued to search for his power bank. When he found it, he took that and his shoulder bag with him out of the apartment. Patting down his pockets for his keys and wallet, he found them and was on his way to the café, door locked securely behind him.

After picking up Hoseok and spending a few hours with him, he headed back home. Hoseok had another practice session, and Yoongi was out cold after spending the last few days in the studio. Namjoon had spent part of his time with the latter in the studio, helping. He was glad the other had finally finished his project, so that he could get some proper sleep instead of an occasional nap at the studio.

Yoongi was a whole other type of workaholic than Namjoon. They shared some of the same traits, but at least Namjoon laid down in the old couch to sleep, instead of just napping across the table in his chair like Yoongi.

At home, he reheated some of the food his parents had left him and put on a movie on his small TV. The router to his internet should be arriving tomorrow. At his previous place, the whole building had internet with it in the price. When the movie finished, he stood up and stretched with a smile. To Kill a Mockingbird was a good movie. A classic. He had the book somewhere in one of his unpacked boxes. In the kitchen, he did the dishes, before going back to his couch and TV. It felt like he should watch another movie before going to bed. Looking through his many DVDs, he came across a movie he hadn’t seen forever. Hoseok had yelled and laughed when he found out Namjoon had Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, but it was a good movie. He especially liked the soundtrack. Once upon a Dream was a masterpiece. So simple, yet so intricate.

Hoseok had to agree with Namjoon’s points. After that, he found out Hoseok had mostly screamed and laughed because the prince’s voice reminded him of one of his students in his dance class. Apparently, that boy could sing with such depth and soul, that Hoseok didn’t know why he wanted to learn how to dance. Singing and chemistry seemed to be his passions.

Humming along to the track, Namjoon watched the movie. When it finished, he got ready for bed, still humming the last song where Aurora and Phillip danced. It was the reprise of Once upon a Dream, and it was so good.

He stopped in front of the mirror in his bedroom. The intricate design of the frame kind of reminded him of a fairytale mirror. It could be the mirror the Evil Queen used in Snow White. Namjoon chuckled.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” he recited with a small smile.

“Me, obviously,” the mirror replied.

Namjoon screamed. His reflection was gone and back was the boy from last night.

“Please stop screaming!” the boy said, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to do anything.”

His mouth snapped shut like the boy asked him to. The angry mirror ghost was back. He hadn’t been hallucinating. Unless he was hallucinating now? He must be.

“You’re not hallucinating,” the boy in the mirror told him, and Namjoon’s eyes widened further. He must be hallucinating, otherwise, the boy wouldn’t be able to read his mind. Unless that was part of the angry ghost’s powers?

“You just spoke out loud, I can’t read minds,” the boy said calmly. “I can’t do anything, I’m trapped in this mirror.”

Namjoon squinted his eyes at the boy in the mirror, not sure if the angry ghost was telling the truth. That would be just like an angry ghost. Though now that he looked closer, the boy didn’t look angry. He just looked nervous. He was biting his lower lip, and looking at Namjoon almost pleadingly.

“Please don’t scream again, I promise I can’t do anything to you,” the boy said. “Look,” he continued and put his hand up against his side of the mirror. However, it stopped where the surface seemed to be. Slowly and hesitantly, Namjoon lifted his arm to touch the hand in the mirror. As soon as he touched the surface, he jumped back in fright. That had been… like touching a normal mirror.

The boy looked like he was trying to hold back a giggle, and let his hand drop back down out of sight. For a moment Namjoon simply stared. The mirror boy had warm brown eyes, softly heart-shaped lips, and a really cute nose. Actually, the boy was kind of beautiful. Maybe it wasn’t an angry ghost but an angel? He immediately shot that notion down. Why would an angel hang out in a mirror? Now that he thought about it, why would anyone, ghost, angel or whatever, hang out in a mirror?

“Who… how?” Namjoon stammered out.

“My name is Seokjin,” the mirror boy introduced himself. “I’m not exactly sure how, but I think I pissed off this witch.”

“Witch?” Namjoon repeated. This was getting less likely by the second. Not that it wasn’t unlikely and incomprehensible from the beginning.

“I don’t know what else to call her,” Seokjin the mirror boy told him. “All I know is that the voice of a woman I might have insulted echoed in my head, and then I woke up in this mirror.”

“I’m going crazy,” Namjoon whispered and sat down at the foot of his bed. “Hallucinations are common symptoms for people with schizophrenia, but I don’t have any of the other symptoms. Or do I?” He rubbed his neck.

“You’re not going crazy, I promise,” the mirror boy told him. “I know it’s unlikely, but that’s what happened.”

“But there’s no such thing as witches?”

“I didn’t think so either,” mirror boy said with a shrug. “Then I ended up in my own mirror.”

Namjoon looked the boy in the mirror, trying to figure out what was going on. “Why are you so calm then?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, I’ve had a lot of time to think,” the boy answered.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked.

“Seokjin, Kim Seokjin.”

“I’m Namjoon,” he introduced himself.

“I know,” Seokjin smiled softly. “I heard when you moved in,” he continued quickly, just as Namjoon started feeling uncomfortable. “Not in a creepy way or anything, but your parents seem nice. I just heard what was going on. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t watch you sleep either. That would be creepy,” the boy rambled on, seeming nervous and awkward. Namjoon couldn’t help but smile a little.

“It’s okay,” he said. He kind of felt bad for the mirror boy, Seokjin.

Said boy smiled shyly. It was kind of cute…

Wait what?

“So how long have you been in the mirror?” he asked with a cough.

“Since January 2017.”

“That’s one and a half year!” Namjoon exclaimed in surprise.

Seokjin looked sad suddenly. “Yeah,” he answered simply.

“Uhm, are you confined to this mirror?” he asked, hoping that would take that look away from the boy’s face.

“At first,” Seokjin answered. “Now I can push myself into the bathroom mirror with a little effort. Though I can’t go further than that. Otherwise, I would have visited the neighbors.”

“That’d be kind of creepy though,” Namjoon laughed, seeing Seokjin pushing into one of the other apartment’s mirrors suddenly.

“I guess,” Seokjin said, looking sad again.

“It is kind of creepy here too, I thought you were an angry ghost,” he told the other, trying to keep his tone light and joking.

Seokjin chuckled, brown eyes lighting up a little. “With this face? I don’t think so. I’m too handsome to be an angry ghost.”

Both Namjoon’s eyebrows went up under his fringe. He hadn’t met anyone with such confidence in their looks before. Good for him though. It wasn’t like he could disagree.

“You look like you want to disagree with my statement,” Seokjin said.

His face started heating. What should he answer? “I can’t really,” he ended up saying. It was the truth, no one would be able to deny that this boy was handsome. “How old are you?” he asked instead, hoping to make the blush go away.

“Well, according to the weather, it’s probably towards the end of summer, so I’m 26.”

“Oh, you’re older than me then,” Namjoon said.

“How old are you?”

“Two years younger.”

“So, 24.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Why didn’t you just say that instead of making me do math,” Seokjin chuckled.

“Subtracting two isn’t hard,” he defended himself.

“No, but it’s a roundabout way of saying what age you are, most people don’t do it,” Seokjin said.

“I guess,” Namjoon shrugged. Great, now the boy in mirror thought he was weird too.

“Though, who wants to be normal anyways,” the other smiled softly. Namjoon couldn’t help but smile back. This mirror boy really was something. “I wouldn’t know what people say these days anyways, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in over a year.”

“You spoke to someone else?”

“Yeah, my mother,” Seokjin nodded. “She ran away screaming, so I couldn’t bear to come back when my brother and father moved my stuff.” He looked sad again. Heartbroken.

“Wha-,” Namjoon started but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “I have to take this,” he said to Seokjin apologetically. “Hey, Yoongi,” he greeted his friend on the phone.

“Look, I’ve got a great idea while sleeping, and it’s a bit different from my usual stuff, so I need to hear someone else’s opinion,” his friend said through the phone. “When can you be here or at the studio?”

“What about Hobi?” Namjoon asked, looking up at Seokjin, who seemed to be looking around as if to give Namjoon some privacy.

“He’s not here yet, obviously,” Yoongi answered.

“Okay, uhm,” Namjoon tried stalling and think of something.

“You don’t want to right now in other words,” Yoongi figured him out in less than a second. “Just get over here tomorrow. I’ll text whether I’m at the studio or not, I’ll wait for Hobi to come home.”

“Sorry, Yoon-”

“It’s fine, , just get here tomorrow. Hobi is great, but he’s also overly positive after dance practice,” Yoongi interrupted. “Unless you have something planned for tomorrow that you haven’t told us about?”

“Uhm, no?” Namjoon answered. “I just…” he trailed off as he caught Seokjin’s eye. He really looked handsome with those wide shoulders, his hair falling perfectly across his forehead and the warm eyes.

“You just?”

“Uhm, nothing,” he answered a bit too quickly, in a voice that was a bit too high.

“I’m telling Hobi you’re hiding something later,” Yoongi said and he could hear the grin in his voice. “Anyways, tomorrow, sometime, you had your chance to say no.”

“Okay, I’ll see you,” Namjoon nodded with a sigh. Hoseok was not going to leave him in peace if Yoongi said anything. Unless he could convince his friend that their oldest friend had played him again, just to annoy Namjoon. That had happened before.

“Have fun ing,” Yoongi sang loudly. Namjoon spluttered in surprise, but before he could say anything, Yoongi had hung up with a snicker.

“Was that your plan?” Seokjin asked, and he could feel his face warm into an intense blush.

“You heard that?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

To his surprise, Seokjin started laughing loudly. “Just the last part,” he said. “But obviously the best part,” he continued in between breaths. His laugh sounded squeaky, but it was kind of adorable the way his shoulders shook and his eyes danced with joy.

“Shut up,” he replied, but couldn’t help but laugh with the boy in the mirror.

Namjoon let out a yawn when he calmed down. He was tired, despite it not being a busy day. He hadn’t even unpacked any boxes today.

“Get to bed, you seem tired,” Seokjin told him with a soft smile.

“I am,” Namjoon replied. “Uhm…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to watch you sleep,” the other laughed.

“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” he smiled back. “I was thinking how you sleep?”

“Oh, I just… don’t?” Seokjin answered.

“You stay awake all the time?”

“No, more like I go on standby like a computer,” the boy in the mirror said thoughtfully. “It’s not fully sleeping, but it’s not being awake either.”

“Oh, okay,” Namjoon nodded. He climbed back on his bed and under the covers, keeping an eye on Seokjin the entire time. Despite seeing his bed and boxes in the mirror, he still couldn’t see himself.

“Sweet dreams, Namjoon,” Seokjin said. “Thank you for not freaking out too much.”

“No problem,” he answered, feeling like this was all surreal. “Have a nice standby?” he wished the other, not knowing what to say.

The boy in the mirror chuckled, little squeaks sneaking in. “Thank you,” he replied and Namjoon’s reflection returned. Shaking his head to himself, Namjoon reached out to turn off the light. This was crazy.

 

So, this was supposed to be a one shot, but it got kind of carried away, so I'm splitting it into three parts.

I can't promise when the second part will be up, because all who know me, know how great I am to schedule my updates.

However, my goal is in a week from now.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.

Peace out (^_^)v