Happy Halloween! (It's the 31st here, the early hours, anyway - glad I finished this in time! ^.^ )

Read on if you dare.

Warning: suicide is kind of mentioned. It's not really dealt with in depth and, really, the person talking about it is a little bit nonchalant about it. I'm not trying to belittle it but it'll make sense once you read it. I thought I should still warn you about it, though.

EDIT: And, hey, if you'd like to read this in Russian GMoriell translated it and posted it on ficbook - the link is on my profile. :)

As the car passed through the suburbs of this strange town, Alfred stared out the window watching the houses and trees and perfect lawns flashing past. A few people turned to watch their passage. Was their arrival that unusual? It must be pretty dull here.

He hadn't wanted to move. But his dad's company was downsizing and had shut down the offices in California where he had worked. They had had to move from the west coast where all Alfred's friends were and where he could go surfing to the dull and dreary east coast. Sure they had New York City up north somewhere and D.C., but they were nowhere near them. Instead, they had found themselves somewhere in Virginia, a small place just outside of Richmond.

Now he would have to suffer through being the new kid at school with no friends. And his old friends would probably be bored of his whining by now. He had watched their expressions glaze over when he had been telling them about it every day for a week before he had disappeared. That whining, though, had been a platform for them to assure him they would continue to be friends. No-one had and they were most likely glad he was gone.

They pulled up outside of an old, weathered house that seemed to need a lick of paint; the ugly white already there had peeled at the edges. It appeared to be one of the old houses they had had since colonial times. Possibly. Alfred didn't know everything and wasn't interested in the history at the moment, too focussed on his brooding. The lawn had overgrown and the flowers in the front yard were obscured by the long grass. Dark windows stared down at them.

His parents pointed out a window, telling him that would be his room. Alfred grunted in response and gazed up at it. The curtains were drawn, the only room to have them be so.

As his mom and dad unloaded the car, bickering a little and chuckling at their own antics, Alfred saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced around. A little old woman holding a pair of gardening shears was watching them. When she saw Alfred looking, she glanced at the house and beckoned to him. The boy glanced at the door, too, before sidling up to her.

"Are you really moving in there, son?"

"Yeah," he replied. Then, because his parents adored manners he added, "Ma'am."

"You should tell your parents to get another house."

"Why?" asked Alfred, intrigued now.

"That place is haunted!"

Alfred's eyes widened and he gasped. Meanwhile, the woman glanced over his shoulder before scurrying away, hurrying into her own house and slamming the door. A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder and he jumped as he spun around. It was his dad, thankfully, and he took in a shaky gasp. Oddly, his dad was frowning.

"Don't listen to them, Al," the man said, sternly. "It's just a superstition. Remember what we said."

"There's not such thing as ghosts," murmured Alfred, though he still felt uneasy.

"There's my young man," His dad grinned at him before holding out his suitcases. "Now, let's get in and unpacked."

Alfred could only nod and follow. As he did, he glanced up at his room and almost dropped his bags in shock.

The curtains were open.

After they had partially unpacked – just enough to be able to eat and go to bed – Alfred decided to go for a shower. The past few days had been spent on the road and he felt disgusting. Luckily for Alfred, despite the house being old, some renovations had been done and his room had a small en suite bathroom, complete with a shower. It meant he had no excuse when his mom ordered him upstairs for a shower but it also, thankfully, meant he would never have to walk in on his parents being in the shower. Together. Without locking the door.

That had been a traumatising experience and he was still hoping for therapy.

When he climbed out of the shower, the room was wreathed in steam. The mirror was covered in a layer of condensation and Alfred, still dripping, drew a happy face on it. He grinned at it and rubbed himself over with the towel before using the it to wipe away the rest of the water stuck to the glass surface.

Once it was mostly clear, the reflection still a little warped, he stuck his tongue out at his features. Bright blue eyes, damp blonde hair with that cowlick which happened to be his trademark, tanned skin, that blurry shadow standing just behind him-

With a shriek, Alfred twirled 'round, sending water everywhere. No-one was there. Wide-eyed he returned his attention to the mirror. His fearful face stared back. There was no shadow.

Although Alfred had stayed awake for at least a few hours, frantically telling himself that he had just been seeing things because of the old woman while he had not been wearing his glasses, he woke quite early. Oddly enough, he felt well-rested so he clambered from his bed and stretched. In the daylight, he scoffed at his imagination and began to get ready for the day.

After he had dressed, had breakfast, brushed his teeth and washed his face, Alfred turned his attention to setting up his game systems. It was as he was fiddling with the cables behind the large TV that his mother found him.

"There you are, Alfie!" she cried almost making Alfred bang his head on the wall as he jerked in surprise.

"Mom! I thought you'd agreed to knock!" he replied, frowning as he sat back on his heels.

"The door's open already, silly. Now, come on."

"Come on what?"

His mother sighed in exasperation. "You promised to help in the front and back yards. Now get your butt out there."

"But mom-!" Alfred began to whine but the woman cut him off.

"No 'but' about it. Go."

Alfred couldn't argue with that so he soon found himself hacking at the long grass, readying it for a lawnmower. The newcomers soon attracted attention and Alfred could feel people staring at him. It was rather unsettling, especially when he glanced up and caught them whispering behind their hands and giving them pitying looks.

As the afternoon wore on, children and teenagers alike began to overcome their misgivings and approached him. Alfred cheerfully greeted them and they politely replied before scurrying off to their parents and safety. It was rather unnerving and a little upsetting but Alfred soldiered on.

When he reached the edge of their plot of land, some boys his age appeared. "Yo," one of them said. "You do realise you're in a haunted house, right?"

"Yeah," said Alfred with a nod and a grimace. "The old lady next door told me. Dad says it's just a superstition."

"It is not!" protested another boy. Alfred had seen him emerge from the house across the road and up close he looked fearful and angry. "That room!" he cried, pointing at Alfred's window. "The curtains keep moving."

"It's probably just people playing pranks," Alfred assured them and himself.

"No!" the boy said, his expression dark. "It's, like, I glance across and they're shut and then I blink and they're open and there's totally a ghost!"

"Just a trick of the light?" Alfred suggested.

"Maybe," said the first boy. "Doesn't change the fact that the last boy who lived there committed suicide in that very room."

"Er..." said Alfred, now uncertain.

"Al!" he heard his mother cry behind him and he jumped at the sudden loud noise. "Quit stalling and get back to work!"

"Oh. Okay. Sorry guys," he told the boys. "Talk later?"

"Yeah," snorted a third boy. "If you survive."

Later that night, there was a knock on Alfred's bedroom door. "Come in!" he called, reaching for the remote to turn the volume down on the movie he was watching. His mother came in and glanced at the TV.

"Just came in to tell you that we're going to bed."

"Okay."

"Turn that off after that's finished."

Alfred pulled a face but agreed. His mother left him and he made himself more comfortable on his bed.

When the credits rolled, Alfred hit the power button on the remote and the TV flicked to black. He stood, stretched and began to get ready for bed. In his pyjamas, he trudged into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. Rubbing at his bleary eyes as he bit onto his toothbrush, he glanced into the mirror.

The indistinct form of a person was standing behind him. He was the same height as Alfred or slightly shorter though Alfred was slouched over so he couldn't tell exactly. His hair was blonde but darker, a sandy sort of colour. Or perhaps straw. He couldn't make out any other features even as he stared in shock and horror.

A soft tinkling noise sounded as his toothbrush fell from his gaping mouth, jolting him from his gaze. With a cry, he spun around. There was no-one there.

He had not been able to get to sleep that night for several hours, tossing and turning. It was just a trick of the light, he told himself. You were tired and you couldn't see straight, he added. The towels were probably making weird shapes where they hung.

At one point, he dozed off, though he was woken by a creaking noise. Turning over in confusion, he blinked up at the bathroom door and watched as it slowly opened. He froze and held his breath. What would appear in the doorway?

But nothing came bar the words whispered as though on a faint breeze. Help me.

Then the door slammed shut and Alfred was left with a thundering heart and tears in his eyes.

In the morning, Alfred was exhausted. He had managed to doze off just as the sky was lighting up outside his window. Still rather frightened, he got up and went to the bathroom – he really needed to pee and had been holding it in overnight. Thankfully, he hadn't wet the bed but now...

Without looking at the mirror, he scampered past to the toilet bowl. He couldn't avoid it while he was washing his hands, though, as it was attached to the cabinet above the sink. When he chanced to glance at it, nothing was there.

He laughed at himself. Of course there was nothing there! Ghosts weren't real: his dad said so and he trusted his old man. Besides, he had probably fallen asleep and it had all been a dream because of what the boys had said. After all, the figure could have been a girl. He had just assumed it was a boy. So it must have been his imagination.

This reasoning did nothing to ease his growing sense of dread.

For the next few days, Alfred would use the family bathroom whenever he could. And, whenever he couldn't, he found himself staring anywhere but in the mirror.

Otherwise, his life went on as normal. He played video games with his Internet friend Tony (who had, on several occasions, claimed to be an alien). His mother made him help around the house with decorating and in the back yard, sculpting it into the perfect garden. He talked to the kids in his neighbourhood – including a few girls who seemed to find his slight accent and surfing talk somewhat exotic. Exploring the town was on the cards and he found it wasn't so bad; yet, he missed the sea and being able to walk to it easily enough.

Then Alfred made the mistake of washing his face one night after a barbecue. He had gotten sauce all over his face from eating and his mother had insisted he go wash up. As he dropped down his arms after drying his face, he was alarmed to see a figure behind him again. This time it was clearer and Alfred could make out striking green eyes. They almost glowed as they surveyed him, the boy's face shocked. Above those bright orbs were a pair of thick, dark eyebrows. Alfred would have laughed had he not been so terrified.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Then, slowly, the boy raised his arm to reach out for him, his mouth moving. Before he could touch him, Alfred cried out, tears at the corners of his eyes as he launched himself for the door.

As he ran through the house, the whispers reached him. I need your help.

Avoiding his bathroom was difficult, especially when he was sure his parents wouldn't believe him. This led to short tempers within the house as they argued over which bathroom Alfred should be using. The atmosphere was stifling; in Alfred's room it was decidedly chilly.

Eventually, Alfred was forced to use his own bathroom again and found himself looking into the mirror one night. The boy was there again, his form more definite. Green eyes locked with blue and Alfred couldn't breathe. Then the boy reached for him again.

As Alfred was frozen, he noticed the way the boy's eyes flickered, emotions spiralling through him. Sadness and fear, anger and hopelessness. It gave Alfred pause and, hesitantly, he decided to speak, to try to communicate with whoever he was.

"Wh-Who are you?"

The boy seemed to brighten and his mouth moved. But no sound came out and Alfred shook his head. Frowning, the boy tried again. Alfred shrugged.

"Can you write?" he asked. Rolling his eyes in obvious exasperation, the boy nodded. "All right, all right. Geez. It was only a question. Can't you write on the mirror, like in those movies?" Again, the boy rolled his eyes. "Well, you're a ghost... Hey, if I steam it up, will you be able to?" The boy shrugged so Alfred leaned closer and breathed on the surface.

When he leaned back, he couldn't see the boy. He waited and waited for writing to appear but, eventually, the mirror cleared and he found himself the only one to stare back.

A week passed. At first, Alfred kept checking in the mirror, waiting to see if the boy would reappear. But, as time went on, he decided that he had either been imagining things again or that he had helped the (hopefully nice) ghost to move on simply by speaking to him. So he forgot about him and moved on.

The air in his room still felt heavy yet chillingly cold.

One night he was on his way to bed earlier than normal. School started soon and his parents had insisted upon him going to bed 'at a proper time' in preparation for the early rises he would soon have to endure. So he was wide awake, his glasses were on his face and he had no excuse to brush off any encounters with the boy. And, as he looked into the mirror to pout at himself, he spotted him. The boy was right behind him and he almost spun around in shock. The voice stopped him, though, the boy's lips moving in time.

"No! Don't! If you look away I'll be trapped in darkness again!"

Alfred stared at him, blinking every so often. Finally, he gathered the courage to speak. "Oh. Er. You can speak this time, huh?"

"Yes, it appears so," sighed the boy. He seemed relieved.

"Your accent's weird," was the next thing Alfred could think to say over the thumping of his heart.

"I'm from England. And you're American."

"Yeah... Er... What's your name?"

"Arthur."

"I'm Alfred. I suppose it's nice to meet you." He flashed Arthur a smile but the British ghost snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You 'suppose'? How rude."

"Well, I'm not exactly fond of ghosts!" Alfred exclaimed, rather more angrily than what the situation called for.

For a few seconds, Alfred stood frozen, fearing retribution. Arthur surveyed him, his eyes flickering up and down. "I see," he said at last. "I'm sorry I've frightened you. And I wouldn't normally talk to you but..." The ghost sighed. "I'm stuck here and I can't figure out how to... Well."

"Move on?" asked Alfred, tentatively.

"Exactly. I think I'm stuck in the mirror. And- Well, I mean-" Arthur coughed into his fist. "I was hoping you could maybe... If it's not too much trouble..."

"Help you?" Alfred suggested.

"Yes," Arthur admitted, averting his eyes. Alfred swore he saw a faint blush.

"How do I do that?"

"Oh, I read a lot of things about ghosts when I was alive," explained Arthur, immediately brightening up. "If I remember rightly, you either need to forgive me or burn candles with incense. Or throw holy water and salt at me. Oh, or even get a priest to exorcise me, if that doesn't work."

"Uh..." was Alfred's brilliant response. "Why do I needta forgive you? What'd you do?"

"I killed myself," said Arthur, bluntly.

"Why?"

"Because-"

"Alfred!" shouted Alfred's mother as she banged on his room door. The poor teenager jumped and glanced 'round.

"What?!" he called back.

"Are you in bed yet?"

"Just about to brush my teeth, ma'am!" Alfred called back.

"Well..." his mom said slowly. "Hurry up and get your cute little butt in bed!"

"MOM!" Alfred bellowed as he heard her cackling on her way back downstairs. Sighing, Alfred turned back to Arthur only to find that he'd disappeared again. "Dammit!" he hissed as he glared at the spot he had last seen the ghost.

Arthur had mentioned reading about ghosts so Alfred went to find things to help him. Unfortunately, the books he found were either super dull or not entirely helpful. The poor boy didn't seem vengeful or evil and almost all of the things seemed to cater to those sorts of spirits. So he turned to the Internet but it didn't help much, either.

After his trip to the library (something he didn't do often, unless for old comics), Alfred went to the nearest department store he could find and bought candles and incense. He also chucked in some candy and popcorn so that, if his parents stopped him on the way in, he wouldn't have to explain his new girly interest. Luckily, when he got home, his parents were in the back yard and he was able to filch a lighter from the kitchen drawer with no-one noticing.

Not sure if he should light them all now, he left a few in the bathroom where he could get them without looking away from the mirror and set up the rest in his room. He lit them that night and had to explain away the odd smell to his mother in the morning as a new deodorant. There was no way to know if it had worked but Alfred didn't see Arthur for weeks and eventually decided Arthur had moved on. He offered up a half-assed prayer for the ghost and moved on with his life.

Four weeks later, Alfred was studying for a big test in English. He had already had help from Toris, a boy who was from Lithuanian descent, mild-mannered and Alfred's best friend on the East Coast. However, he wasn't sure what they had gone through had stuck so he was doing a bit of extra revision late into the night. And he was beginning to fall asleep.

Groaning, he got up and made his way to the bathroom, relieving himself from the numerous sodas and coffees he had had throughout the night. Then he splashed himself with cold water, willing himself to wake up. Of course, when he looked up, he spotted Arthur, standing directly behind him.

He must have been getting used to it as Alfred only sucked in a large breath in reaction. Letting it out in a sigh, he said, "So the incense and stuff didn't work?"

"Apparently not," answered Arthur with a shrug. His eyes seemed brighter than before, almost glowing. It was unnerving but Alfred ignored the feeling, knowing Arthur was friendly.

"Hang on," Alfred said and reached for the provisions he had left for just this occasion. He set it up without looking and, as soon as the things were lit, he stared hard at Arthur. "Anything?"

"I don't feel anything." Arthur shrugged again and shook his head.

"Hm. Maybe we need to do the forgiveness thing, too." He paused, thinking, before hesitantly continuing. "Why did you kill yourself?"

"Oh, you know," sighed Arthur, his eyes betraying his sadness and despair. "My parents were workaholics and I got left alone with bullying brothers. No-one liked me at school because I had such a fascination with the supernatural and magic." Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed. "And... I think... I can't remember... something about saying something on a stage? It's kind of a blur, the days leading up to- I-I don't-"

"Hey, hey," Alfred interrupted with as gentle a tone as he could. "It's okay. It doesn't matter if you can remember it all or not. What do you feel guilty about?"

"I..." Arthur looked away and seemed to try to turn away. But he was trapped, imprisoned and he had to look back into Alfred's eyes. "I feel awful about pretending to blame my parents. It wasn't their fault. I... kept it all to myself so..." He sighed. "And I hate that they cried and were so miserable after it. They blamed themselves and... I think I ruined their lives. My brothers' too. And, if I remember correctly, I took it out on people weaker than me at school. I feel absolutely ghastly about that."

"Well, I forgive you for all of it!" declared Alfred. "You felt trapped with nowhere to turn to so it seems to me that you didn't do anything no-one else has done before. As for that... er... other thing... You shouldn't beat yourself up about it. This wasn't your fault."

Arthur smiled at him and Alfred beamed back, happy to have at least received a smile. Then he blinked and Arthur had vanished. Shocked, Alfred called out to him but there was no reply.

Pouting at the fact he had disappeared without so much as a goodbye, Alfred sighed and pushed himself away from the sink. He put out the candles and incense with a few breaths and was about to leave when he could have sworn he heard a distant voice, different from Arthur's.

Don't listen to him.

Then a different one said, Run. Get away. Run!

Alfred blinked and looked back at the mirror but there was nothing there. With a shrug, he told himself that he was just tired and he should probably get some rest or he'd fall asleep in the test the next day.

It wasn't until Halloween that Alfred saw Arthur again. He was in his bathroom, as was usual for these encounters, painting his face white. For the first time ever, he was dressing as a ghost. The one costume he had avoided for the whole of his life had suddenly become appealing.

He glanced down to dab the sponge in the face paint before lifting it and his eyes. When his eyes met green, just over his shoulder, he gasped. "Shit!" he yelped.

"Sorry," said Arthur, though he sounded amused. "I'm afraid it didn't work."

"Really?" Alfred pouted. "But we did everything the books said!"

"Yes, well... Maybe I'm guilty for something else. I can't quite remember the events leading up to my death. Perhaps there is something I've forgotten that I feel guilty about."

Alfred blew out a breath of annoyance. "What do we do?"

"Maybe you could check the newspapers from around that time. There might be a clue there."

"Okay. When did you die, exactly?"

"I..." Arthur trailed off and frowned. "I don't remember."

"Well, what about your surname and I can look you up instead?"

"I... don't know." Arthur shook his head and shot Alfred an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I'll do what I can. But if you don't mind, I have a party to go to." Alfred lifted the sponge and glanced back down to the paint. When he returned his gaze to the mirror, he nearly had a heart attack.

Arthur was still there.

The ghost's eyes were just as wide as Alfred's. "I-I didn't disappear. Is-? Do you think-?"

"Maybe you're halfway there!" cried Alfred, grinning widely.

"Exactly. I may be stuck in the mirror, but maybe your efforts are pulling me back. Maybe if I can get out of the mirror..."

"You can move on!" Alfred finished. "That'd be awesome!"

"Oh," said Arthur, suddenly, looking glum. "Perhaps it's only because it's All Hallow's Eve."

"Halloween?"

"Yes."

"Ah..." Alfred had watched a documentary about Halloween once and how ghosts were supposed to be out and about on the night. "It could be." They both fell into a sullen silence until Alfred roused himself. "Well, we'll find out later. But I gotta finish this, so..."

His companion nodded and watched him finish his face painting, helping him out with bits he had missed. Once Alfred was finished he thanked him, told Arthur he'd see him later and turned to go.

Watch out, Alfred!

He looked at Arthur in surprise. "Was that you?"

"Was what me?"

"Oh. Never mind. I must just be hearing things."

Arthur grinned wickedly at him. "That's the first sign of madness, you know."

Rolling his eyes, Alfred turned to go once more, calling his farewell over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, when Alfred got back that night – after midnight – he found Arthur waiting for him. Apparently, neither had been expecting to see the other but had quickly gotten over it. At a loss of what to do to help Arthur, Alfred had offered him friendship, talking to him whenever he could, careful not to let his parents hear. Since talking had brought him closer, maybe that would help.

After a few weeks of this, Alfred's life began to change dramatically. He no longer hung around with his friends. Toris was only called when he needed help from homework that Arthur couldn't give: Arthur was clever so it wasn't very often. The games consoles were barely touched and Tony hadn't seen him in months.

They figured out in the new year that Arthur could move between the mirror in the bathroom and to any reflective surface in Alfred's bedroom so Alfred bought a smaller mirror. It was hidden under his bed when his parents were likely to walk in and eagerly retrieved when they left the house or went to bed. Either of them walking in on Alfred was becoming rare as he spoke with them less and less.

Conversations became long. Jokes only the two of them understood were created. Heartfelt discussions about the world and people they knew (or had known, in the case of Arthur). Alfred grew to know Arthur extremely well, and Arthur did likewise.

Arthur's issue of moving on was not brought up much during the time they spent together. The ghost seemed to have accepted that Alfred could do nothing. However, Alfred knew differently: he had neglected to get a priest or other religious person to help exorcise him. At first it was because he knew it would be difficult to do it without his parents finding out and explaining it to them was out of the question. Then he began to grow quite attached to the boy and he was unsure if he was willing to let him go.

And throughout it all, he heard those voices, whispers on the wind. Don't do it! Run! Save yourself!

But he ignored them. He had no clue what they were talking about but, if it was about Arthur, then he trusted him over the creepy ghosts trying to dissuade him. Arthur was his friend, after all.

"You've got jam at the side of your mouth," said Arthur, interrupting what Alfred had been telling him about.

"Jelly," Alfred corrected even as he started to run water into the sink.

Arthur stared at him unamused for a moment before sighing. "Fine. You have your breakfast smeared around your mouth like the messy eater you are."

Alfred grinned at him before bending over to scrub at his face with soap and water. With eyes screwed shut against the lethal soap, he blindly grabbed a towel and rubbed it dry. Then he replaced it and turned back to the mirror – only to yell in fright.

Beforehand, Arthur had only been visible over his shoulder, as if he was behind him. Despite getting closer, he had never been in front of Alfred. It was rather something of a headache for Alfred who kept wanting to turn around to look at him properly. Now, though, Arthur's face was right in front of him and looking just as startled as he felt.

"Oh my-" Arthur began but broke off and stared at Alfred, wide-eyed. Alfred gazed at him, looking at him properly for what felt like the first time since he had met him. It was comforting to be able to see him like this, as though he was a real person that he could hug and help.

"You're closer!" Alfred cried out, grinning widely once the shock had worn off. "Is it 'cause I'm talking to you?"

"Maybe," agreed Arthur, hurriedly, grinning just as much as the American. "There must be some sort of special connection between us!"

"Do you think I can pull you through?"

"Try it!"

And so he did. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out, his fingers stretching. Almost instinctively, Arthur held his hand up, too. But, when his hand reached the mirror, he jolted as he hit the surface. They stared at their hands, pressed up against each other, separated by the glass.

"But..." began Arthur and Alfred felt such great sadness spread through his chest at the ghost's tone. He didn't speak up, allowing Arthur a moment. It looked as though he was fighting back tears (could ghosts cry?). Suddenly, his head jerked up and he stared at Alfred again, his eyes wider than before.

"What...?" asked Alfred, hesitantly.

"Maybe it's not the hand that's the connection! Your eyes were what kept me in the mirror before. If you rest your head against the mirror-!"

"Okay! I'll try!" And he shoved his head at the mirror, so hard that it hurt when it banged against it. Stepping back, he winced in pain and looked back at Arthur. The poor guy looked desperate now. He brought up both his hands to rest against the barrier and leaned his head against it as he visibly shook. "Artie..."

"This-! No. I-I'm stuck! I'll never-!

"No!" declared Alfred, firmly. "It's- Maybe another body part. Um, um..." He hesitated for a moment as his mind drifted between solutions and half-formed thoughts: from wanting Arthur's happy ending to all the Disney movies he had ever watched and true love's kiss... "Hey," he murmured, blushing now. "D'ya think a... kiss'll work?"

"A kiss?" asked Arthur, tilting his head and blinking. "What do you mean?"

"Like in the movies. A kiss makes everything better, right? And-And it'll be okay 'cause the mirror's still separating us but maybe something magic'll happen and we'll be toge- Er, you'll be here."

Still blinking, obviously surprised by the suggestion, Arthur straightened up, gazing at a point slightly above Alfred's head. His silence allowed those whispered voices to speak again, warning Alfred away, not to do it, stop. But Alfred ignored them once again. If whatever ghosts were there couldn't show themselves like Arthur had, he wasn't going to listen to them.

"Yes... Maybe..." Arthur nodded. "Let's do this."

So, both blushing, they leaned in simultaneously. Alfred blushed harder in the realisation they were moving in sync. His eyelids fluttered closed as they grew closer and he pursed his lips in preparation. Finally, his lips touched cool, smooth glass and he heard a small smooching sound before he pulled away hurriedly and blinked his eyes open.

Arthur was gone and he stared back at his reflection. He deflated instantly, thinking he would have at least seen him behind Though... Now that he glanced around the room's reflections, he realised there was something funny about it. For a moment, he could only stare, his eyes flickering over the mirror, taking everything in until- Yes, there: the shower was usually on his left side of the mirror but now it was on his right. He frowned in confusion – and realised the other odd thing.

His reflection was grinning at him.

But that was against the laws of physics. Only one person Alfred knew could be fiddling with the mirror. "Arthur?" he asked.

"Oh?" replied his reflection, sounding odd as it was speaking with Alfred's voice. It sounded like the times Alfred had heard his voice played back to him, obviously his own and yet a little different, a little deeper. Everything about this situation seemed skewed, as though he was dreaming. But he listened as his reflection continued and confirmed who he was. "I must say, Alfred my dear, you are the first person to realise that so quickly."

"What... do you-? How are you-?"

The reflection rolled his eyes before reaching up. The view swung around so that Alfred was staring in disbelief at the cistern and small window which looked out onto the back yard. Then it swung back and he watched the reflection opening a tub of hair gel that he kept despite never using it.

"Put simply," the reflection said, "I am in your body. And you are in the mirror. Thank you for releasing me, by the way. Utterly foolish but much appreciated."

"Releasing you?"

As it scooped up a small amount of gel, the reflection scoffed. "Yes. Did you really think I was so weak as to kill myself?"

"But..."

Whatever it was Alfred was looking at smirked. It didn't look right on his face, as though someone had pasted two pictures together on Photoshop and placed a warped filter on it. "Was I that good?" it said. "Perhaps I should take acting up as a career."

"What are you, then?" Alfred demanded, angry now.

"Oh, I'm just pure evil." It sounded like it was mocking Alfred, not serious and yet deadly so. "Why do you think the people who live here die?" Alfred jerked in surprise. He hadn't expected that, despite the current situation. They hadn't killed themselves. It had been a sort of supernatural murder.

"I don't... Why?"

"Why?" repeated Arthur, twisting Alfred's face more and into awful grin that sent chills up Alfred's spine. "Because I want to. Being stuck in that mirror is annoying. It's boring and there are those damned Shadow People – be careful of them, by the way. You may be dead but your spirit is keeping this body alive."

"D-Dead?! But-!"

Arthur rolled Alfred's shining, blue eyes. "Oh, for- You've just had your soul ripped out through your mouth, my dear. Of course you're dead."

"You- Why would you-? I thought we were friends!"

"More fool you," murmured Arthur as he reached up and began to coax Alfred's stubborn cowlick down. "You probably should have listened to the others. They did try to warn you."

"Oh, God," groaned Alfred, tempted to glance over his shoulder.

"Don't," said Arthur as he patted at Alfred's head – his head, now – obviously pleased with his new physical form and satisfied that the gel was holding. "If you catch sight of a Shadow Person, they may devour you. So do be careful. I'd like a good few months in this body, thank you very much. I've seen your muscles – I wonder if I can use them to impress some girls. And maybe some boys, too." He grinned up at a horrified Alfred, his eyes flashing green for a moment before settling down.

"You can't do that! Everyone will know something's wrong!"

"Ah, my darling, you really are very stupid." Arthur patted down his new clothes, smoothing out some creases, a habit Alfred had seen him do in the mirror. "Over the past few months, you've been neglecting your loved ones in favour of me. They'll probably just think you're being a rebellious teenager. Speaking of which, have you ever drank any alcohol? Oh, of course not. I think I'll be doing that tonight."

"But my exams!" cried Alfred, feeling tears prick his eyes. He couldn't believe he had been tricked by this monster. After all those lectures about not talking to strangers and he had done just that. This was the ultimate moral lesson but without the chance to learn from it.

"Screw your exams, love. I have more important things to be doing." Arthur grinned at Alfred again, a glint in his eye which made Alfred shiver. "Besides, you're dead and your body will... Hm, let's see. I haven't tripped into oncoming traffic in a while. That sounds like fun."

"Stop it!" shouted Alfred, openly crying now. "Just- Please, let me go back."

"No, sorry. I like the physical world too much. Thank you so much for your help." Suddenly, Arthur leaned forward with his lips pursed and Alfred stared as he kissed where his cheek would be on the glass. "Now, I'm about to leave. I'll see you in the next mirror but, until then, you should get acquainted in your new home." And, with a final wink, Alfred's body left his field of vision.

The poor boy yelped and tried to follow its movements but he was inhibited by the mirror. For a few moments, he stood still, leaning against the it, first taking deep breaths to calm himself before beginning to sob hysterically. He wanted this to be a dream, a bad dream, one he would wake up from and tell Arthur and the nice ghost would comfort him and they would laugh off this horrible feeling of helplessness.

However, from behind him, he could hear the whispering, rising in volume and pitch, hundreds of people telling him what he had only heard fragments of before. That swiftly changed to mocking and, with some reluctance, he turned and stared into darkness. No shapes could be discerned and he couldn't tell if he was in a room or not. The pitch black pressed down on his senses and he whimpered in dismay. Light from the mirror didn't penetrate it. He sensed more than saw some sort of movement; darker shadows moving against the shroud.

Quickly, he spun away and clutched at the mirror which connected to his world, hoping it would be some sort of anger, hoping he could pass through it again, hoping Arthur would come back and tell him it was a joke, hoping to see his parents and get them to comfort him. But he knew, instinctively, that none of that would happen. All he could do was wait here, wasting down to a voice who would warn the next person but be too late. Alfred was trapped here with the lurking shadows that moved steadily towards him, craving the fear which made him shake.

No-one could save him now.

I hope you're all satisfactorily scared now - especially since Arthur can actually move between mirrors. Be careful. ;)

(In the middle of writing this, I was a little wary about the steamed up mirror in our toilet after my showers...)

I looked up the stuff about helping ghosts move on. It was rather vague and I'm not really sure about it... Alfred shoulda just went straight to a priest and damn the consequences. Or bless them.

Mirrors are/were actually considered to be portals to the spirit world. You're supposed to move them around because, if you leave them in one place for too long... And the Shadow People are an actual thing, by the way. Here's an excerpt from a website I was looking at: Witnesses describe not only shadow people standing near to mirrors, but also within the mirror and entering or leaving them. Quite a few cases also reported other phenomena at the same time such as - cold spots, voices, noises and orbs. Odours - ranging from pleasant to vile - have also been described.

All I did with them was make them into monsters that like to devour trapped souls.

Arthur is just an evil spirit - he's never been human. He doesn't have a reason for doing what he's doing - he just enjoys tearing families apart before killing off the body of the person he's already killed. Then he watches their grief because no-one seems to remember to cover up mirrors any more... (Well, maybe someone does but I don't think people do it as much as they did in the Victorian times.)

The title is actually the name of a film (all one word, though). It's basically about a girl whose family runs a circus and wants to run away from it. She ends up in a fantasy universe while an evil counterpart appears in her own world, harrassing her stressed dad while her mum is in hospital cause she collapsed. Anyways, she needs to find a mask to let her get home and she can see what her anti-self is doing when she looks through windows in the other world. (She's looking out through her drawings instead of a mirror and no-one can see her apart from the anti-thing which tries to rip them up.) It's a strange film but interesting. And I've only watched it, like, once, so it's stuck with me. I thought it would be good because Arthur is obviously wearing a "mask" throughout this.

Sheesh, me and masks this month.

Oh, and I don't know anything about America so if West Coast vs. East Coast aren't vaguely like that, I do apologise. Just substitute those descriptions from Alfred to something vaguely resembling reality. And, I mean, I've never been to it so I wouldn't know the difference.

And, damn. I wanted to end this on a creepy note. And then I made all these long notes.

Just remember - there could be a spirit stuck in your mirror, too.