A/N: Welcome to my newest fic idea. My muse mercilessly held me captive for the past few days until I completed it, blocking my inspiration for my other fics that I need to be working on. However… now that this is completed… I am FREE!

Honestly… I love this fic… but I have no idea from where it came—maybe my dreams! ((wink wink))

Lol.

Anyway… this is more of a novella—since it is so short—my first novella, to be exact! I know that the idea of me writing a novella is somewhat ridiculous—considering the length of my actual stories… but… hey! I like to branch out! Regardless of length, I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

Much love goes out to hunted-snark for beta-reading this for me; without him, this fic would not be what it is—and I truly mean that!

Full Summary:

Sora has a very active imagination. He daydreams often and fantasizes about many things, letting his imagination run wild. One night, he falls asleep and encounters something mystifying in his dreams… and now… he cannot escape the person that he has discovered—nor does he want to. As he starts to get sucked more and more into Riku's world, his reality becomes skewed. He wants to line the pieces up… and he wants to try and merge the two worlds. He wants to discover if Riku is real… because he has begun to believe that Riku cannot live without him… and he cannot live without Riku.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Kingdom Hearts. I recognize that these rights belong to the wonderful companies known as Squaresoft/ Square Enix and Disney.

I rated this 'T' just to be safe!

: P

Oh! And, just to let you know: disembodied voices—or discourse where the speaker's face is not visible—are italicized; also, instead of un-italicizing… I make it bold and italicized for emphasis. That's just my style.

Please enjoy the show!

: D

smaerD fo dlroW

Chapter One: Through the Looking-Glass I Fall

I open my eyes… and I stare at the familiar ceiling of my room. I feel as if I am awake… but I know deep down… that I am dreaming. This is a dream.

Curiosity bids me to sit up and look around. My room looks exactly the same as it did when I lay down to sleep. Every single detail—no matter how minute—is in place.

Something tells me that I should get out of bed—that I should stand and examine my room. This is what I do. I slowly tread a measured path across my hardwood floor, searching for anything out of the ordinary. I look everywhere—even under the bed—and still find nothing unusual. Finally, I come to stand in front of the full-length mirror at the foot of my bed; I heavily regard my reflection, the computer desk and door behind me like shadows. Somehow… I just know that something is different about the mirror.

In my waking life, I like to imagine that my mirror is a portal—a portal to another world. It makes perfect sense that my dreaming self would encounter my dearest wish: my mirror… potentially transformed so that it is a portal to another world.

Filled with trepidation and excitement all at the same time, I stare at the mirror in awe—despite the fact that it appears to be no different. Very slowly, I raise my hand, tapping—twice—on the glass with my index finger. Nothing happens. I frown.

If this is my dream—which it is—something magical should have happened. The mirror should have become… fluid… or something… something through which I could step—something through which I could pass! I am highly disappointed in my mirror. I am highly disappointed in the fact that it got my hopes up. I thought that I would finally get a chance to enter some magical land… but no! It had to be a stupid, regular mirror!

Just as I turn around… I hear something. An unfamiliar, deep voice cries, "Hey! …Is someone there?" It sounds full of uncertainty and… loneliness; there is a certain desperation to it that pulls at my heartstrings, making me want to respond to it.

I turn around… but I see nothing but the mirror—and the mirror does not appear any different than a moment before. My brows furrowing, I cautiously approach the glass. I swallow and question, "Yes?"

"Were you the one that made that noise—that noise on the glass?"

I blink in surprise that this voice is speaking to me… from what sounds like the depths of my mirror. "Uhh… yeah. I tapped on the glass." I can't resist asking, "Are you in the mirror?"

"What?! Am I… in… a mirror?" He—at least, it sounds like a masculine voice—sounds like he thinks that I am insane.

I casually reply, "Yeah! I mean… I'm standing here, minding my own business, and your voice is coming from somewhere inside the mirror in my bedroom. And, considering that this is my dream… I'm going to have to go with…" I pause before declaring, "You are a magical being that lives inside my mirror—that I cannot see—but that I can most definitely hear. And because you are a magical being… you will perform some sort of magic that will allow me to pass through my mirror into a world of… of… something… exciting… and… not normal!"

There is silence, and now I am afraid that I have scared the mysterious being off. I open my mouth, about to call out, when I hear: "You're a freak. Did you know that?"

I indignantly protest, "Hey! Pardon me! But, I… I'm not the one whose voice is coming from a mirror, am I?"

"Actually… that is exactly so. Your voice is coming from a mirror. And, truthfully… you woke me up."

I blink in consternation. "Oh. …Well… sorry."

"That's okay. …I'm actually glad that you did."

I ask, "Can you see me?"

"No. …Can you see me?"

I purse my lips in disappointment. "No." After a moment of hesitation, I ask, "So… who are you, then?"

"How come you get to be the one to ask all the questions, huh? Maybe I'd like to know exactly to whom I am talking!"

I huff… before jabbing a thumb at my chest and declaring, "I'm Sora! And you—whoever you are—are the lucky being that gets to be in my dream!"

"Are you so sure that this is your dream? I mean… for all you know… this could be my dream! Which means that you are the one who is lucky enough to be in my imagination!"

I argue, "Hey! I know for a fact that this is my dream, because I just got out of bed… and I am standing here in my room… talking to some VOICE that lives in my mirror."

"I don't live in a mirror! I live…." He trails off; my brows furrow in confusion.

I prod, "You live…?"

His voice is soft… rather frightened. "I don't know where I live. Where I am right now… it's… completely dark… except for this mirror."

I suggest, "You could try passing through the mirror."

"Don't be stupid! It's just a mirror!"

I correct, "It's not just a mirror! It's a magical portal!"

"God help me…. I'm talking to a lunatic…."

I angrily yell, "HEY! I'm not a lunatic! I just have a very active imagination!"

"Uh-huh. That's what they all say…."

I growl, shaking my fist, "You have no room to talk! For all I know… you could be a lunatic! You don't even know me!"

"True…. Well… to answer your earlier question: I… I don't remember my name."

Tilting my head thoughtfully to the right, I wonder, "You don't remember your name? Wow…. Well… I'm sure you'll remember it… eventually…. What do you look like? I'm guessing from your voice that you're a guy… but… are you?"

"I am a guy. And, according to this mirror… I look… pale. I look… unhealthy. God! What's wrong with me?"

Caught up in a new idea, I chirp, "Hey! Maybe I'm supposed to help you!"

"What?"

I grin in excitement, exclaiming, "Yeah! That's it! I'm supposed to help you! You're stuck in a dark… prison or something… wasting away… and… and I have to try to find the key to set you free!"

"Well… from the little patch of floor that I can see, it looks like I'm standing on hardwood floor…." He trails off, going quiet.

After a moment of silence, I cry, "Hey!"

"What?"

I point out, "You never described yourself to me!"

"Oh. Well… you tell me first what you look like… and then I'll tell you what I look like."

I think on how to describe myself, putting my hand to my chin thoughtfully as I peer at my reflection.

He warns, "And don't lie to me. Even if you're an ugly beast… just tell me what you look like… so I can picture it clearly. If you don't tell me the truth… then I won't tell you what I look like!"

"Okay, okay! I won't lie!" I huff out, "Hmm…. Let's see…." Finally, I utter, "Well, I'll start by describing who I am. I'm Sora; I'm seventeen; and I am a junior in high school. I am about five foot… hmm… six—not very tall for a guy, I suppose. Oh! Maybe even shorter if you exclude my hair!"

"Your… hair?"

"Yeah! I have spiky, brown hair—but not GIGANTIC spikes—medium-sized ones."

"What color brown is it?"

"Uhh… light brown. Umm… let's see…. Oh! I have blue eyes—dark blue! And… I'm kind-of scrawny. I mean… I'm not completely scrawny… but I'm not really buff. Maybe I should lift weights or something…." I clear my throat, prodding, "So… what do you look like?"

"Greenish-blue eyes—aquamarine—that's the color I was thinking of…. Somewhat long silver hair—but not too long. It's kind-of layered. I have bangs. The shortest layer of my hair starts at the top of my cheek… then the next one goes down to my chin… and then the layers go down from there—ending just above my shoulder. I do seem rather… well-built. My arms look kind-of buff."

I snort, "Yeah, sure!"

"Seriously! I think I must work out or something…."

My brows furrow; I question, "How do you not know if you work out or not?"

"I… can't remember."

I frown sadly at this. It seems… tragic. I gently inquire, "Do you remember anything?"

"…Nothing."

"Oh."

I wonder, scrunching my nose, "Hey, you're not standing around naked or anything, are you?" I ask this for the sake of knowing… as well as for the sake of lifting the mood.

"What?! What kind of question is that?! No, I am not 'standing around naked'! I'm wearing light gray pajama pants… and… a black t-shirt… and socks."

In an effort to inform him that I, too, am not standing around naked, I inform him, "Well… I'm not naked, either. I am currently wearing red and black plaid pajama pants… and a gray t-shirt. I am standing around on my hardwood floor in bare feet, though. At least it's not cold. It's rather warm here."

"Is it? …It's cold here. I didn't even really notice it until now…."

My right hand twitches; I can feel that I am on the point of waking up. I cry out, "Hey, whoever you are! I have to go! My body's waking up! I have school in the morning! It was… umm… nice talking to you! I'll try to figure out a way to get you out of your dark prison or whatever! Bye!"

He sounds surprised at this abrupt declaration; he stammers, "B-Bye!"

And then… my dream world vanishes as I fade into darkness.

I feel myself wake up… and I just know that it is early—my alarm clock hasn't even gone off.

I groggily open my eyes, groaning, as my alarm clock goes off just a few seconds later. Growling with displeasure, I whack at it, effectively silencing it. I roll onto my side, yawning, intent upon sleeping some more.

"Sora! Are you up?"

I don't respond.

"Sora! I heard your alarm clock go off! Give me something vocal to work with here… or I'm coming in there!"

Irritated at my mother's persistence, I snap, "I'm up! I'm up! God!"

"Well, hurry up and get showered and dressed! Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes!"

"All right, Mom!"

Grumbling to myself, I lift my covers and slide my feet onto the floor, grabbing clean clothes before heading down the hall to the bathroom.

As I finish pulling on my clothes for the day: black boxers, dark jeans, and a white graphic t-shirt with the words: Disney stole my soul as a child… on the front, and the words: And now I want it back… on the back

Returning to my room, I finish off my ensemble by sitting on the edge of my bed and putting on fresh, clean, white socks.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room, I comb my hair in the usual way. I pause in my morning routine, peering forward. Something inside me bids me to tap on the glass with my fingertip—not just once—but twice. Nothing happens. I shrug, resuming my combing. When I am finished I head toward the door, setting my comb down on my computer desk, then grabbing my red backpack by one of its black straps, slinging it over my shoulder as I shut the door behind me.

My right hand slides along the wooden banister as I make my way down the uncarpeted, slightly tarnished staircase. Right as I reach the bottom, I realize that I forgot my wallet upstairs. Swearing softly under my breath, I toss my backpack down and run upstairs again, popping into my room. It is as I am grabbing my wallet that I think that I feel something funny at my back—coming from the direction of the mirror.

Still clutching my item, I whirl around, staring wildly at the mirror. I calm down—even getting a little disappointed—as soon as I realize that nothing is out of the ordinary; my window is just open… and all I feel is a cool, morning breeze. Shaking my head at my idiocy, I move to shut the window, closing the white, lacy curtains while I am at it. Satisfied that nothing is abnormal, I shove my wallet into my pocket, vacate the room for the final time, and head downstairs, leaving my backpack at the foot of the stairs as I lope into the kitchen for breakfast.

This morning, it is fried eggs with toast and two sausage links—accompanied by a glass of orange juice. As soon as I am done, I kiss my mother on the cheek to exhibit gratitude then rush upstairs to brush my teeth. This task completed, I rush back downstairs, swoop up my backpack, head out to the garage, and drive off to school.

As soon as I am clear of my neighborhood, I turn on my music, bopping my head faintly as I make my way to school.

The only reason I get up early in the morning is so that I can get good parking. Thankfully, this pays off. I get my choice of parking in the Junior Lot—also known as the "Asian Parking Lot"—due to the fact that almost every car in the parking lot tends to be those belonging to Asians whose parents buy them cars. Even though my car is not as great as I want it to be… it is not a total piece of junk, and I am glad that I have done yard work and chores for the past three years just to be able to earn it from my parents.

I head straight for the library—because this is where I kill my time before first period starts.

Entering through a side door, I walk through the "silent study" area into the main room of the library. I hang a left, heading into the reference section—which is adjoined to the computer room. I seat myself in a rolling chair, nudge my chair closer and get on an open computer.

After getting bored by the sites I am looking at, I decide that I should kill time by reading. Picking up my bag off the floor, I get up and push my chair in before making my way over to an empty chair in the reference section. There is nobody really around. I like this; I prefer the quiet and the solitude. Sitting down in the hard, uncomfortable, square wooden chair at this rectangular table, I set my bag down on the floor, to my right. It makes my butt hurt and makes me wish that I had chosen to sit in the room with the comfortable chairs... but now I am too lazy to move.

Digging through one of the smaller pouches of my backpack, I find the book that I brought from home—one of my favorites: Through the Looking-Glass (And What Alice Found There) by Lewis Carroll. Due to my vivid imagination… and my penchant for being transported to other worlds… this one quickly became a favorite of mine that I read about once a month. We are only about two weeks into the school year… so I am due to start re-reading for this month: September.

Reading about Alice makes me wish that the mirror in my room were a portal to another dimension or world; that maybe there was a "Looking-glass House" that looked just like my room… except everything was turned the wrong way. And then maybe this "Looking-glass House" would lead me on a wild adventure.

I happen to think that ordinary life is extremely boring; but I do my best to plod along in it, keeping my mind fresh and active at every opportunity I get by reading many books (fantasy, mostly), writing my own imagined stories, and daydreaming (not always at the most opportune times—such as math class, when I should be paying attention to the equations being written on the overhead… but, instead… I am busy jotting down notes for my next "big adventure"—my next story). It is a good thing that I have friends—or at least people that I know—I don't really consider them friends—in all of my classes who can catch me up to speed on those days where I cannot force myself to pay attention.

I get distracted from Alice talking to the white kitten about the Looking-glass House when my long-time friend, Kairi, sits down across from me, huffing irritably. Lowering my book, I question, "What's wrong, Kai?"

I rather regret asking—even if she is upset—because once you get Kairi started on a rant, you will be hard-pressed to stop her. The girl has the gift of gab; and, I am convinced, if used for evil… it could destroy the world.

As she jabbers on about how unfair her parents are being—due to the fact that she went over on her minutes and texting—costing them an extra two hundred dollars—I float away, gazing at her and nodding at the opportune times, offering, "Yeah, parents can be rough!" (and comments like this). At one point, she indignantly wonders, "I mean… do they not realize how important my phone is to me? It's my lifeline; I would die without it."

"Uh-huh. So would I, were I in your position…."

In my mind, though… I am not really there. I am busy wondering about the mirror in my room—if maybe, somehow, I can transform it so that I can have my big adventure.

"I just don't see why they have to take it away! So I sent a few too many text messages? They were important!"

"Of course they were, Kai. You need to communicate with your friends. It's perfectly understandable…."

"Exactly! God! I wish they were as understanding as you are, Sora…."

Before I know it, the bell is ringing, and it is time for first period. Kairi continues to chatter away, still grumbling about her cell phone being taken away until she can "show more responsibility," as we walk to class together.

When I get home, I do my usual routine: I make myself a snack, watch a little TV while eating it, do my homework (at my mother's behest), then go upstairs into my "hole" (as my mother calls it)… where I spend the rest of my evening until dinnertime… and to which I retreat after dinnertime.

Today, after checking my e-mail, (after finishing my homework), I flop down onto my bed—stomach-first—and resume reading Through the Looking-Glass. Were it not for the fact that my mirror is at the foot of the bed, and does not even face my bed, I would be constantly glancing at it as I read. Since it is not so, my attention remains on the book and does not wander over to my mirror.

Before I know it, shadows are creeping into my room, and I must turn the touch-lamp on my nightstand on. Time flies when I get sucked into my fictional worlds, and all too soon, I am being called downstairs for dinner. I cry, "Coming!" and shove my ornate, filigree bookmark into place. Its golden tassel pools on the mattress as I shut the book, leaving it on my bed as I bound from the room. My door remains open a crack; and, since I am paranoid about leaving my door open, I rush back to close it. The delicious aroma of dinner wafts up to me as I race down the stairs, jumping off the second-to-last step.

After dinner, I return to my room as usual—with the intent of resuming my reading. However, my mirror is too enticing. Something about it looks… mysterious, tonight. I stand before it, gazing into the eyes of my reflection. I wonder aloud, "Is there a Looking-glass House in there?" I have often wondered this… but, tonight, I seem more intrigued—more ready to believe that there really could be something magical about this mirror. Shaking my head, I jump back onto my bed, settling down onto my stomach as I open up my book again.

It would be neat if there were a Looking-glass House….

My brows furrow as I hear the sound of rapping—like knuckles on glass. My first thought is to go to my bedroom window. I kneel on my bed, peering out it to see if there is something out there—maybe a branch tapping my window—but there is nothing. Then I hear it—the rapping—it sounds again… and this is when I realize that it is coming from none other than my mirror.

All of a sudden, the memories from the night before hit me full-force. I move to stand in front of the glass, softly greeting, "Hi."

"Hey. …I got this feeling that I should do that instead of calling out."

I admit with a small grin, "Yeah. If you had called out… you might have given me a heart attack!"

"Well… I wouldn't want that. You seem to be the only one that I can talk to."

My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… I can only talk to you. You're the only one that contacts me. And, as crazy as this sounds… I can only talk to you, in your dreams, because, otherwise… I am here in the darkness… alone."

"That's kinda cool—makes me feel special." I can't resist asking, "So… are you an elf or some mythological creature? I mean… the description you gave me last night seems… abnormal… for a human."

"…Well, I was telling you what I saw. And, no… I'm pretty sure I'm not a mythological creature."

I laugh at this. As my short bout of mirth ends, I find that I can think of nothing to say.

The guy on the other side of the mirror requests, "Tell me about yourself. I want to know about the person to whom I am speaking."

I scratch at my cheek, mumbling, "Umm… well… I have a really vivid imagination. Most of the time, I prefer to live in my fantasies… as opposed to reality."

He chuckles. "I get that sense from you. After all, you keep bringing up mythological creatures. So… you like fantasy…. What else? What sort of things do you do in your free time?"

Even though I do not know to whom the hell I am speaking, I find that I like his voice. It is deep… but oddly comforting. He comes across as… lonely, though. I probably would be, too… if I were locked in a dark room, by myself, with no one to talk to.

I sigh pensively before uttering, "I like to read. I read a lot of books—mostly fantasy… sci-fi… those sorts of things. I won't admit it to anyone… but I'm rather fond of romance—not erotica, mind you!—but romance…."

He chuckles, remaining quiet in an attentive way. I continue, "I like to write. I write a lot of stories—things that pop into my head. As I said, I pretty much live in my imagination. I suppose that makes me a good writer. Anyway… umm…." I rub at my hair, staring up at the ceiling to think of what else to say. I laughingly say, "I'm really boring. Guess that's why I prefer to daydream and imagine great things."

He prods, "There isn't anything else you like to do? What about your friends? What do you do with them?"

I muse, "I don't get out much, but when I do, I do things like go to the movies. Sometimes, I go to blitzball games with Kairi—she's my best friend. We've been best friends since forever!"

"Do you like her?"

"Huh?" My brows furrow in confusion. I question, "Kairi? …I don't know. I never thought about it. I think it'd be weird… because we've been best friends so long. I don't think I'd want to be her boyfriend anyway… then I'd never escape her chatter!"

He chuckles at this. "So she's a motor-mouth, then?"

"Yeah. I mean… earlier today… well, it's probably yesterday by now considering how I went to bed just before midnight because I was caught up in reading…." Shaking my head, I resume, "Anyway… it happened in the library before school started. I was sitting there, minding my own business, trying to read… when she just plops down in front of me, looking sour. Ever the good friend, I ask her, 'What's wrong?' I should have never asked that; I think I opened Pandora's box with that one. She started complaining about how unfairly her parents treat her—starting with the fact that they took her cell phone away because she went way over on her minutes and texting. Truthfully… I tuned her out. I was thinking about other things. I just kind-of agreed to whatever she said. Heh!"

"She sounds annoying."

I frown, deciding to reply with something I have always felt to be true in my heart: "Annoying… but loveable. She's very sweet. And even though she talks too much… she's very considerate. She's a good friend."

"What about your other friends?"

"Hmm…. Well… Kairi's really my only friend—she's the one that I hang out with the most. I'm sort-of friends with Kairi's friend, Selphie… but not that much. I'm more the type of guy that has a bunch of acquaintances… but no real friends. You know?"

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

Staring at the mirror, I decide that I want to try something. I stand up; the sound of my movement causes whoever to ask, "What is it?"

I murmur, "I want to try something…." My right hand ghosts over the clear surface of the mirror as I elaborate, "My tapping on the glass 'woke' you… so, maybe… if I try something else… we might be able to see each other." I press my hand against the glass, closing my eyes. I order, "Be very quiet. I'm going to try and concentrate really hard. I think… maybe… if I concentrate hard enough… since this is my dream… I can fall through the mirror—like Alice!"

"Alice?"

My eyes still shut, I distractedly mumble, "Yeah! Like Alice! Alice in Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll. It's one of my favorite books."

The guy gives a short, amused laugh. I insist, "Be quiet now so I can concentrate."

Focusing all of my energy, I imagine the glass softening into something that my hand could pass through. Focusing inward, I picture my hand actually going through the glass. My stomach drops as my hand abruptly falls through something akin to glacial air….

I hear a frightened, masculine yell that makes my heart jump. Opening my eyes, I see that my hand is… gone. My wrist is just… up against the mirror? As if my hand were inside it or something.

I blink, my heart racing. I ask, "Can you… Can you see me?" My right hand begins to shake from the cold that I feel—whatever is on the other side of the glass.

"Y-Yes. Yes, I can see… your hand."

I am not sure what to do at this point. Pursing my lips, my brows furrowing again, I command, "Take my hand… and… pull! Take my hand, and pull me through!"

He stammers, "O-Okay!"

My heart palpitates as I feel a pair of cold hands clutch mine. I begin panting, anxious about what may or may not happen. I grip the hands surrounding mine very tightly, swallowing, praying that nothing bad is going to happen.

Maybe this is a bad idea…. Maybe… Maybe he's a ghost or something! Maybe he's going to suck my soul out if I go through the mirror! Oh, God!

It is too late, now, though—the person on the other side of the mirror violently tugs at my hand… and my body is propelled forward… through the mirror. I shut my eyes as I fall through the chilliness, holding my breath. And then, I collide with something; and the thing and I fall to the ground.

Opening my eyes, looking downward, I find that the thing that I collided with… is none other than a fair-skinned, sickly-looking, silver-haired teenage guy clad in a white t-shirt and black pajama pants. He stares up at me in shock, his jaw hanging slightly open. I grin, laughing a little as I greet, "Hello!"

He blinks at me a lot, his long eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks as he murmurs, "Hello…." I find myself lost in those aquamarine eyes of his. They seem… magical….

It is at this instant that I notice that I am unintentionally straddling his hips. I decide that now would be a good time to get off him. Putting my hands on either side of his head, I push myself up into a standing position, swaying, a bit off-balance. I clutch at my head due to the brief spell of vertigo that seizes me. When it clears, I reach down my hand, asking, "Are you all right?"

He nods, still staring up at me in a disbelieving kind of way. I lower my hand further, insisting, "Here. I'll help you up."

Hesitantly, he reaches out his hand… then grabs mine. I shudder as chills run through me. His skin is like ice! Pushing past this uncomfortable, cold feeling, I grasp his hand and pull him to his feet. He releases me, whispering, "You're warm…."

I retort, "And you're freezing."

Looking around, I mumble, "You really weren't kidding. This place is really… dark." I muse, "It doesn't seem like a dungeon…."

He replies, "I never said it was a dungeon."

I nod, murmuring, "True…." I find that I cannot see much. The only light around is the pale, ethereal, silvery light that comes from the mirror. I question, "Why isn't there any light in here?"

The guy shrugs, muttering, "I don't know. If this is your dream… why don't you imagine some light?"

"Hmm…." I turn around to see what I can see through the mirror. To my surprise, I see my room. I exclaim, very excited, "My room! Look! It's my room!"

My companion stands beside me, peering through the glass at my bedroom. "It's nice…. I wish this place were more like it."

I grin at him, cheering, "It can be! This can be like the Looking-glass House! It can be the reflection of my room! All we have to do is imagine it to be so!" I rotate my head a bit to take in the darkness behind me; and then I look into my room. As I stare at the computer desk and the door (which is all I can see through the glass), I imagine that my belongings replicate behind me. After a long moment, I turn around to see if it worked.

It did. Sort-of…. Okay… not very much at all….

My companion blinks some more, amazed at the change in environment. There is a door—my door. My computer desk is there—along with everything on it. This is really all that is here—except for the wall that these things belong to or against. He steps forward, commenting, "It's… incomplete."

I decide, "That's because I was only going off of what I saw in the mirror. Maybe…." I peer at the scant things that now fill the room. I blink in astonishment as my other belongings spring into place. Everything is now here—even my bed. The only thing is… everything is opposite to the way it is in my room.

I muse, "I wonder what happens if I were to fall asleep on the bed in here."

The person beside me suggests, "Maybe… you'd… never wake up. Maybe you'd go into a coma…." He frowns at this; his brows furrow; his eyes get sad—worried and sad. I swallow at this frightening thought; I decide that I do not like the sound of it.

For a change of subject as well as for something to do, I decide, "I think I'll turn the light on." First, I turn on the computer desk lamp; then, I turn on the bedside lamp. Immediately, a cheery glow fills the place. I sit on my bed, staring around the backwards version of my room. All of the posters on my walls are now reversed—the words—the images. Looking at my nightstand, I find that Through the Looking-Glass has become:

ssalG-gnikooL eht hguorhT

yb

llorraC siweL

Only… the letters are backwards, too. Flipping through the pages, I find that the text is impossible to read—everything is reversed.

I set the book back in the same spot that I found it.

"Sora…."

I turn, surprised to hear my name in that voice. "Yes?"

"Did you… remember me… when you woke up?"

I purse my lips, shaking my head regretfully. He sighs in a sad kind of way. "I thought so. So, when you're awake… you don't remember anything that happens here…."

"No… I guess not."

He smirks wryly, offering, "Well, thanks for bringing me some light in the darkness. I appreciate it. Will you come again?"

I grin, responding, "Of course! Whether this is real or not, it's definitely entertaining. Besides… it's not like it's hurting me any. Plus… it gives you company."

He nods, uttering, "I could really use some company…."

My grin widens. "I can do better than that. Not only will I be your company… I'll be your friend! I'll keep you company; I'll talk to you; and I'll make things less lonely in general. How 'bout it?"

His pale lips stretch into a faint smile. "That would be nice."

"Great! That settles it! You and I will be friends, then!" Growing pensive, I wonder, "What should I call you, though? I don't know your name…."

"Well… I don't think it really matters… for now. I mean, we'll be talking to each other face to face… just the two of us. It sucks that I don't know my own name, but… at least now I'll have someone to talk to. Actually, before you came along, I don't think… I don't think… I… existed." His brows furrow as he looks down, contemplating this notion.

I question, "Are you saying that you exist because of me? That I… created you?"

He looks up at me, shaking his head as he utters, "I don't know."

I grin, asking, "Does that make you my imaginary friend?"

He gives me a dry look, muttering, "I don't much like the idea of that."

I sober up, agreeing, "Neither do I. So… I'll just call you my friend—of the regular type."

"Okay."

We stand around awkwardly, unable to think of what to say to one another after this. I ask, "What do you do when I'm not around?"

My "friend" looks pensive at this; he purses his lips. "I think… I go to sleep. And then, all of a sudden, I wake up… and I sense you—on the other side of the mirror… wherever you were." He smirks, adding, "At least now I can picture where you are, and know that you'll be in your bed, before you come to the mirror."

I grin. "Yeah."

We fall quiet again. It is rather hard to talk to someone that you don't know—especially when they have nothing to talk about… because they do not know anything about themselves.

He watches me, carefully regarding me. I nervously question, "What?" and run my hand through my hair, peeking at him… at those amazing eyes. I flush at how intently he stares at me.

He utters, "You were truthful about your appearance."

I pout at this, a bit affronted that he thought that I might have lied. "Of course I was!"

Pursing his lips, he wonders, "Weren't you the least bit scared of what I could be? I mean, for all you knew, I was just some creepy voice that came out of your mirror. You know nothing about me."

I confess, "Well, when you grabbed my hand, and started to pull me through the glass, I panicked. That was my 'Oh, shit!' moment; but now that I can see you… and talk to you in person… I feel better."

He smiles. "I'm glad." After a moment, he murmurs, "Sora?"

"Hmm?" I tilt my head.

"Will you come to me every night?"

"I'll do the best that I can to. I mean, if I don't show up… that probably means that I'm sleeping elsewhere—somewhere besides my room, you know? I think that… the mirror is our link. And, if I fall asleep somewhere else, I won't be able to get to you."

He implores, "Try to fall asleep in your room, then… please. I… I don't like… I don't like the idea of not existing."

My heart aches at hearing such a sad statement. I promise, "I'll do the best that I can. If it's within my power, I'll come to you every night."

He smiles faintly at this, nodding. "Thank you… Sora."

I grin at how odd it is to hear my name in his voice, from his lips. I probably find it odd because I do not have a name for him. Whatever the reason, when he says my name… I tingle pleasurably.

"You're welcome."

Suddenly, my right hand twitches—a signal that my dream is coming to an end—that I am waking up. I glance up at… Nobody… and state, "My body's waking up. I have to go. I'll… I'll see you tomorrow night."

He frowns; his eyes get sad; however, he nods in understanding. "See you."

"See you."

He follows me as I stand before the mirror. Pursing my lips in concentration, I put my hand to the glass—it slides right through. I turn my head, grinning as I repeat, "See you." And then… I carefully step through the mirror.

Turning around, I gaze into my Looking-glass Room. I do not see him… but I see my belongings. Heaving a sigh, I return to my bed, getting under the covers as I settle down to sleep.

Opening my eyes with great effort, I find that my limbs feel heavy. I feel exhausted… and I have no idea why. I love the daylight, and I love sleeping; I try to sleep as much as I can—when I have the time—but I most definitely hate waking up. This morning is no exception. In fact, because I seem more tired than usual, I hate this morning more than others.

This does not bode well….

Usually, when I wake up feeling tired, the rest of my day is hard to enjoy; in general, I am quite irritable.

At school, Kairi notices that I seem tired. She asks, clutching a textbook (which is too heavy to keep in her bag) to her chest, "What time did you go to bed?"

Stifling a yawn, I mumble, "I don't know. The same time I usually do—eleven-ish? Actually… I think it was closer to midnight. I got caught up in reading…."

She helpfully suggests, "Maybe you had a dream that made you tired!"

I shrug. "Maybe…."

For the rest of the day, I halfheartedly focus on my classes. During lunch, instead of eating (which I am normally all for—considering how hungry I get), I snooze—not quite falling asleep… but not fully awake. I get a chance to rest my eyes, as it were.

When I get home, I have a big snack, and I tiredly work on my homework. As soon as I am done, I make my way upstairs. It is already evening; so I turn on my bedside lamp, touching the metal base in order to illuminate the bulbs. I settle down to read more of Through the Looking-Glass; and then, my head falls forward onto my pillow, and I drift….

I lift my head up, staring around me blearily. Looking down, I find that I still have the book open on my bed. I sit up, blinking a lot. Some of the pages of my book flutter so that my place is lost.

"Sora…?"

I jump in surprise, realizing immediately that I am no longer awake… that I am dreaming. Getting up, I venture toward the mirror.

Nobody (as I have unfortunately begun to call my nameless friend) asks, "Isn't it early?"

I mumble, running a hand over my mussed hair, "I think I fell asleep while reading…."

"Oh. I've been sleeping all day… but… just now… I woke up." After a pause, he mutters, "I blame you…." I chuckle at this.

I am a little disturbed that I cannot see Nobody. I ask, "Can you see me?"

"Yeah, actually… I can."

I mutter, "Guess it's not a two-way thing, then. All I see is my reflection."

"Oh…. Well… you could always step through… and we could talk."

Glancing at my clock, I note that dinnertime is nearing. I murmur, "I don't think I should. Dinner will be ready soon… and my mom will probably come to wake me up soon. I should just stay here for the time being."

"Okay."

After a brief pause, Nobody wonders, "So… how was your day? What did you do?"

I laugh at how odd these questions seem—coming from him. "Not much, really. Went to school… came home… had a snack… started reading… fell asleep… ended up here."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you're here now."

"Yeah. Me, too."

Oddly, I find that I am more… at peace… when I am in the dream world. Something about Nobody… this person that I do not even know… soothes me.

Just as I open my mouth to talk to Nobody about some of my classes, my body jerks involuntarily. The familiar voice of my mother sounds inside my head, calling out my name. I jerk again, feeling as if I am seizing… but, really… I am being jostled… jostled… awake… into reality….

"Sora! Wake up, honey! It's time for dinner!" My mother shakes my shoulder a bit roughly—because she knows that I am a rather heavy sleeper.

I lift my head, staring at her through half-lidded, sleep-clouded eyes. "Okay…." I manage to get out of bed, yawning as I follow her downstairs.

She worriedly insists, "You should try and get to bed earlier—so you won't be so inclined to nap—especially right before dinner."

"Okay, Mom."

Dinner is typical: My parents and I sit at the table, focusing more on eating than talking… but occasionally mentioning things about our day.

After dinner, as I am online, surfing the Web, my mother calls from downstairs, "Sora! Telephone! It's Kairi!"

I meet her halfway down the stairs, where she hands me the phone. Walking back to my room with the phone to my ear, I greet, "Hey, Kai. What's up?"

"So, I was thinking: This weekend, we should do something fun! I saw that there's a new movie playing. Wanna go see it?"

I shrug, responding, "Yeah, sure. Sounds like fun."

"Great! Well… I'll talk to you more about it tomorrow. I'll look up the info tonight… and then we can plan during tomorrow for Saturday. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay…. See you tomorrow!"

"See you."

I hang up, setting the cordless on the computer desk. I then spend a few hours doing things online… and typing the newest chapter to my story. When I grow too tired to keep my eyes open, I brush my teeth and head to bed.

I lie in bed for a moment, my eyes remaining shut. Only when I hear the soft call of, "Sora?" do I open my eyes and get out of bed.

Standing before the mirror, I gaze at my reflection. I burst into laughter at how ridiculous I look.

Oddity # 1: My hair is very messy—I surmise that I rolled around a lot as I was still in the limbo of being half-awake but not completely conscious.

Oddity # 2: I am clad in nothing but boxers. This is more embarrassing than anything. Even with the boxers, I feel as if I am standing around naked.

Nobody chuckles at me, teasing, "Looks like someone was too lazy to put some clothes on before going to bed."

I snort, "Yeah, well… it's not like I remember that someone is going to be seeing me. If you want, I could dig out some clothes to put on."

"No, no. It's fine. I don't mind. Just come on in."

Uneasy about putting my foot in first, I put both my hands through. Nobody grasps them, tugging me through. This time, we do not fall; we merely stumble a little, laughing at this. I find that it is now warm in here—just the right temperature—the same as my room. I also notice that Nobody is looking less sickly—still pale… but less sickly. He is clad in black boxers and a gray t-shirt this time. It seems that we always see each other in bedtime attire—which makes sense… considering that we only see each other in our dreams—or my dream… whichever.

We both sit on my bed, side by side. I rotate to my left, and he rotates to his right; we each bring up one leg, bending the knee of this one leg so that we may sit facing each other this way.

I state, "Kairi called me after dinner, asking if I wanted to go to a movie on Saturday. I agreed. I nearly said, 'I haven't got anything better to do!' but I realized how messed up that would sound… and so I didn't say it."

Nobody chuckles at this. "Do you know what movie?"

I shrug, answering, "I have no idea. She said that we'll sort the details out tomorrow."

Nobody questions, "Is tomorrow Friday?"

"Yeah. I think it is."

He nods, falling quiet. Finally, he wonders, "What do you normally do on Fridays?"

Grinning, I happily respond, "Well, after school, I go to the Anime Club at my school. That ends about four. Then I drive home—!"

He interrupts, "You drive? What kind of car do you have?"

"Yeah. I drive a two-thousand Mitsubishi Mirage—a four-door sedan—red. I did a bunch of chores and yard work to be able to 'earn' it from my parents. Now that I have had my license for a while, my mom let me have it."

"When's your birthday?"

"February twenty-fourth."

He nods before prompting, "Sorry. I interrupted you. You were saying about Anime Club…?"

I blink, trying to remember. "Oh…. Umm… it ends at four. Then I drive home… I do my homework until dinner… and then I spend most of my time on the computer—usually working on my stories."

He scoots a little closer, wondering, "What are your stories about?" He peers interestedly at me.

"Well… different things, really. The one that I was working on earlier tonight… is about a teenage guy—with blue eyes and brown hair—pretty much a self-insert—named Seth… who stumbles upon this magic mirror in his attic one night. He stares into it… and sees his own reflection… but, then… he starts to fall—not face-forward—he jerks around… and falls backward into it. Only… he keeps plunging deeper and deeper into the depths, his eyes shutting as the cold air that feels like bubbles fizzes past him. He thinks that he is going to suffocate… but then something akin to warm air engulfs him… and he is able to breathe again.

"He opens his eyes and sees the most beautiful woman he has ever seen smiling at him—serenely—mysteriously. (I've decided that she will have platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes—light blue.) Then… she comes forward and kisses his cheek, cupping his face with her pale, soft hands. The next thing he knows… he is back in the attic, staring into the mirror… but freezing cold."

I sigh, uttering, "Anyway, it's a work-in-progress… but I'm thinking that he'll keep returning to the mirror at night… looking into the depths to try and spy the girl. And, really, it will be her magic that draws him to her again and again… and she will draw him into his fantasies—only they will become reality… a place from which he can come and go. She'll transport him… because she needs his help—to free her from her prison in this dark castle where they are trying to use her magical powers for evil. And… I don't really know what else. I'm contemplating naming her Naminé. I just started it a couple of days ago. …The night before I met you, actually." I make a noise of amusement at this odd coincidence.

Nobody smiles, his aquamarine eyes fixated on my blue ones. "It sounds interesting. Maybe… when you finish it… you could tell me exactly what happens."

I nod my head. "Yeah. Maybe I will."

Without any warning, he sidles up against me, wrapping his arms around me. I shiver from the tingles that caress me due to how warm and soft his skin is. He rests his head on my shoulder, mumbling, "I wish I could be there with you in the real world. I know that we don't know each other that well… but I already feel very close to you." He squeezes me tighter, holding me closer. I swallow, not sure how to react to this.

He must be really lonely….

His eyelashes brush my skin as he shuts his eyes, murmuring, "You're so warm…. It feels nice…."

I feel strange. Something feels different… but I cannot put my finger on it. I am cold… but my chest feels warm. I feel… comfortable in Nobody's arms… even despite the tingles that run through me. Just as I am about to lay my head against his, my hand twitches—it is time for me to wake up.

Nobody pulls back, sighing. He smiles at me, offering, "See you tomorrow, then."

I nod, pushing on the bed so that I may more easily stand up. He follows right behind me, offering me a hand and watching me as I step through the mirror. I cast him one last glance—one last smile—before allowing myself to completely leave the Looking-glass Room.

I nod my head, covering my mouth as I yawn. Kairi double-checks, "So the four-twenty showing is fine?"

"Mmhm."

"Great! So... you'll pick me up about an hour before?"

"Yeah. Then we'll go to the theater… get our tickets… go inside… get stuff at the concession stand… and then find good seats. After all that… we'll sit around in the theater for a good half an hour, talking, waiting for the movie to start. Sound good?"

She laughs. "It sounds fine to me!"

"Good."

Kairi allows me to return to reading at this point. Having finished the page that I am on, I turn to the next one. For one moment, my mind shifts from the story of Alice to some random idea for my story—something interesting for Seth to encounter. I quickly shove my bookmark into place before whipping out my small notebook and pen (which I always keep in my pocket for just this sort of moment—the moment when a great idea hits me).

My idea in my scribbled fashion of notation:

Seth should have best friend.

Name: look up cool names later – something starting with 'R' might be cool—maybe Japanese.

Age: 18 (year older than Seth)

Appearance: Pale; stylish (long) silver hair (ponytail? Something cool-looking); eyes blue/green/ mix of two? Remind Seth of ocean. Taller than Seth.

Character: Seth's best friend. Figure out how two meet later. Maybe Seth about to get attacked – guy saves him – protector from moment on. (Too cheesy? Come back to this later.)

Seth wish guy were real.

I pause at this point. My mind loses its focus as that last line repeats in my head, becoming altered.

I wish he were real….

My brows furrow in confusion; I blink a bit, not understanding this odd thought. Something strikes me, and I go back to add details to the guy's appearance.

Aquamarine eyes. Gorgeous smile—dimples.

Pushing past the awkward fact that I just used the word 'gorgeous' to describe a guy's smile—a fictional guy's smile, nonetheless!—I add onto the section for "Character," tacking this following bit on after the parenthesis at the end.

All the girls love him. Sexy; lady-charmer; Seth jealous but never admit. Guy very reserved; smirks more often than not. Seth gets him to open up eventually, though.

I flush at my notes; somehow, my notes make Seth seem very… gay. This influences me to put my notepad and pen away—to resume reading.

I read until the bell rings, signaling the end of the lunch period. Shoving my book in my backpack, I give Kairi a quick hug, wishing her a good afternoon before making my way to class.

By now, I simply get out of bed and head straight to the mirror. In what is quickly becoming a routine, I greet the mirror with a soft, "Hi," and get a "Hey. Come on in," in reply. I push my hands through… and then Nobody grabs them, pulling me the rest of the way—gently—slowly—so that we no longer stumble. Instead, I step through. We then release each other's hands and convene at the bed, just sitting.

We sit on the bed as we had the night before—this will become something customary between us as well; I can tell. Nobody smiles, asking how my day was. I tell him about my classes… about the plans for the movies tomorrow… and then I confess, "I almost thought about you today. I was reading Through the Looking-Glass at lunch… and then I started to make notes for my story—for a new character for my story (whose traits rather coincide with yours), and I felt this little tickle in the back of my mind. I didn't know what it was… so I brushed it off… but… I think it was me… almost thinking about you."

Nobody smiles joyously at this, covering my hand with his left one as he utters, "I'm glad. Maybe… you might start to remember… as time goes on."

"Maybe."

We become quiet, regarding each other's hands. Nobody's fingers twitch lightly; and then… he brushes his fingers against the back of my hand, caressing my skin. My heart gets a strange tickling sensation to it; warmth floods my cheeks. For the rest of our time together… Nobody and I sit like this—silently… together… with him caressing my hand with the lightest of touches. It puts me at peace… and makes me reluctant to leave. It takes a great deal of willpower to leave tonight… because all I want to do is stay.

A/N: Thus marks the end of the first chapter. I know that this novella is probably full of clichés… but… meh. I don't care. I'm still writing it. Enjoy it or not… that's your choice. If you don't enjoy it… stop reading and leave me be, please. I really don't care if you don't like it.

For those of you who do… please review!

Also: I recommend that you all read Through the Looking-Glass. Below is a link to the e-text version of it. (Please remove the spaces.) Enjoy!

www. cs. indiana. edu/ metastuff/ looking/ lookingdir. html

Kagome-chan