AN: Sorry about the wait for this chapter - I didn't post last weekend because it was Christmas, but I should be back on track now. I hope you all had a very happy New Year and that this coming year is happy and bright for you.

A gigantic thank you and all my love to freakingpotter who did the cover art for me. She is amazingly talented and you should go find her on Tumblr and ell her how incredible she is. (you find the art on my tumblr)

Also thanks again and again to my beta theatrevicki who just recently had a Birthday. Happy Birthday friend!

And thank you so much for reading.

"There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met." – Jim Henson

July 2006 – Bluespruce, Maine

Blaine was starting to enjoy Maine. The summer he thought was going to be miserable was turning out to be not so bad after all. Hours spent in the warm summer sun and the crisp salty ocean did wonders for a young boy's mood. Blaine didn't let his parents in on that secret when they called to check in on him. He'd been at his aunt's house for a month before they actually called to talk to him. They'd sent emails back and forth, but this was the first phone call so he thought he was justified in letting them know he wasn't completely happy. Because as wonderful as Aunt Helen was and as much as he'd fallen in love with the beach, he was still a little sad that his family had just left him this summer.

It hit him hardest at night when in bed trying to fall asleep, his mind wandered. He missed his parents and they said they missed him when they called, but the problem was they didn't have to miss him, they could be together right now if his parents had brought him along.

Still Cooper had promised to visit by the end of the month and Blaine was excited to take him exploring along the beach and show him all his favorite spots.

Aunt Helen had done that for him; showing him a cove with an outcropping of craggy rocks where they found big reddish brown sea turtles that his aunt called loggerheads. She took him down the coast a little way to a tall sun-bleached lighthouse that was over a hundred years old and still in use warning ships of the dangerous rocky waves. And Aunt Helen had taken him to a candy shop in town where he'd tasted what he thought must be the best salt-water taffy in the entire world.

They enjoyed their evenings reading together in the parlor, and even his aunt's random mentions of magic, witches, and Saffron Callaway had started seeming common place. Blaine had even almost convinced himself the tapping in the house wasn't actually coming from the mirrors like his eccentric aunt believed, but from the walls and foundation, just an old house settling and making commonplace noises. Nothing scary or fantastical about it.

Still Blaine slept with the large gilded mirror above the ornate fireplace in his room covered with an old patchwork quilt – just as a precaution.

Blaine had made friends with the girl who came with her family to their vacation home down the beach- just as his aunt had predicted. Her name was Lucy, and she had bright cornsilk hair, round plump cheeks and she tried to act older than her twelve years of age.

They collected treasures, seashells and sand dollars and sometimes tiny smooth iridescent mussels that still had their two halves intact. He and Lucy had picnics on the sand (with the food Millie would pack for them) and they went to town sometimes to sightsee or to go to the movies on cloudy days. They went swimming as the weather got warmer; the ocean was still much cooler than what Blaine was used to from visiting his brother in California, but the days were sunny enough to make it enjoyable-splashing in the waves, feet sinking into the sand as sun beat down on their shoulders.

The month had flown past them in the speedy way time races by for the young and today was Blaine's last afternoon with Lucy. He was dreading her going back home; he'd be all alone then. He tried to cheer himself with the thought that at least he had Cooper's upcoming visit to look forward to.

They sat on the beach that day, Lucy lying on her stomach building a detailed sand castle and Blaine using a bunch of the blue and green and golden-brown sea glass he'd collected over the weeks to make a big swirl on the warm sand like a sun-glistening mosaic.

"I don't know who I'm going to hang out with once you leave." Blaine said idly, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

"What about the kids in town?"

Blaine shook his head, "They all seem…" Blaine glanced up at her, not knowing how to say that none of them seemed very nice. "Do you think there might be a reason the kids in town don't want to be friends with me?"

Lucy looked down at her sandcastle and bit her lip, "Maybe."

"Because I'm not from around here?"

She was quiet for a moment until she finally sighed and sat up, "No, that's not it."

"Then why?" Blaine didn't understand it, he had lots of friends back home, making friends had never been this hard for him.

"The same reason I almost didn't want to be friends with you." Lucy answered, pushing a strand of damp yellow hair behind her ear.

Blaine's jaw dropped, he didn't know Lucy had once not wanted to be friends with him. "What? Why?" Blaine asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"Because you live at Callaway Place." She looked back down at her castle, she was trimming the bottom with tiny spiraled seashells.

Blaine shook his head, sand falling from his curls, "I don't understand. My Aunt has lived there her whole life. Everyone knows Helen Callaway. What's the problem with Callaway Place?"

Lucy's plump cheeks blushed and she looked out at the waves, "Um… your aunt…" She started slowly, "My mom says she is just a lonely old woman."

"She's not that old." Blaine said, feeling offended, 'lonely old woman' wasn't a very flattering description.

Lucy ignored him and continued, "Most people think she is very nice. It's just… she is a bit weird."

Baine clenched his jaw, his heart hammering. People talked about his aunt? They thought she was weird? Yes, he'd thought that about her himself from time to time, but he was allowed because they were family and he loved her. He didn't like the idea of others talking that way.

"Aunt Helen is wonderful. She is kind to everyone!" He said defensively.

"I know." Lucy sighed, "I know. And people know that. It's just kids talk … they probably wouldn't care about her at all if she wasn't a Callaway and didn't live in Callaway Place. Don't you know what people say about that house?"

"No," Blaine answered sullenly, still a little angry on his aunt's behalf.

"It's haunted, everyone knows that," Lucy said as she stuck a twig in the top of a castle tower, "I only come here in the summers, and I know that. All the kids talk about it. Callaway Place is haunted."

Blaine stared at her for a moment, her words sinking in before he smiled disbelievingly, "That's ridiculous! Ghosts aren't even real." Blaine announced, but then he had to push back the thoughts of Saffron Callaway's spooky portrait and the strange noises the house made, but it couldn't really be haunted.

"I think it is ridiculous too. That's why we're friends." Lucy said, but she seemed a little unsure. Before Blaine could question her any further, she stood up, brushing sand off her legs. "I'm getting in the water, one last swim before I leave. Want to come?"

Blaine took that as the change of conversation Lucy obviously wanted and nodded, joining her as she ran towards the shoreline. He didn't want to fight with the one and only friend he'd made all summer, especially on her last day there. He had enjoyed their friendship. Aunt Helen teased him about Lucy being his "little girlfriend" but really Blaine was just grateful to have someone his age to hang out with. Besides, Blaine didn't think about girls like that.

They splashed in the water, laughing and falling over, and catching the waves. It was a good afternoon and for a while Blaine forgot all about what Lucy had said about his aunt and Callaway Place.

He hugged Lucy goodbye that afternoon and she pecked him on the cheek with a giggle. "My girlfriends back home aren't going to believe I met such a good looking boy this summer."

Blaine lifted his eyebrows in surprise; he had sun-kissed tan skin and thick dark curls, both of which came from his father's Filipino side of the family, but his curls were growing wild this summer-frizzy with the salt in the air-and he was small and scrawny for his age. He never thought of himself as handsome. That was a term he usually reserved for his tall, blue-eyed, raven haired older brother Cooper.

Cooper was an actor, or at least he wanted to be. He lived out in California and worked as a mailroom clerk, or as Cooper described it, he "managed an interoffice document delivery system" while constantly going on auditions as well.

He and Blaine weren't close, Cooper being ten years older than him, but still he was family. Blaine couldn't wait for him to visit Bluespruce; he had visions of showing Cooper all of his favorite places up and down the shoreline. He would show him the seashell collection he'd started and his beautiful sea glass and they'd get taffy in town.

As he walked back to the house, pail in his hand heavy with glass and seashells, he couldn't help but get more excited by the prospect. Being away from his family was hard. He was only twelve and this was the longest he'd ever been away from his parents.

He started jogging in his excitement, his pail slapping against his leg and sand flying beneath his heels. Blaine entered the house through the back door, which had become his habit because the back door led straight to the kitchen and Millie always had an afternoon snack ready for him. Today it was a plate of apple slices, and a little ramekin of honey and peanut butter for dipping.

"Your aunt wanted to talk to you," Millie told him as he sat at the small wooden kitchen table to eat his apple slices. Millie was a reserved elderly woman, wispy gray hair pulled back from her face, and a deeply lined expression that made Blaine think she was probably the oldest person he knew. She made the best food he'd ever eaten and doled out her words sparingly as if she were running out of them.

He nodded and swallowed, licking his lips of honey, "I'll go find her when I'm finished here."

He thought back to what Lucy had said about the house being haunted. He should have asked more questions because, while Blaine enjoyed a good ghost story as much as any twelve year old boy (he loved reading Cooper's old Goosebumps books), he didn't actually believe in that kind of thing. The house was old and looked intimidating; it was no wonder kids made up stories about it. Except… except that Callaway Place was really strange, with its mirrors and noises and creepy portraits. The house still freaked him out sometimes, as much as he tried to pretend it didn't.

He watched as Millie worked on the dinner preparations — her old, soft, sun spotted hands kneading dough for a chicken pot pie crust. As far as Blaine could tell, Millie had worked at Callaway Place for ages; she had to know something about the house.

"My friend Lucy said something funny today," Blaine started, scraping dip out with an apple slice. Millie kept kneading but looked his way to let him know she was listening. "She said that people around here think Callaway Place is haunted."

Blaine waited, expecting Millie to laugh or roll her eyes, or give some indication that his statement was as absurd as it had to be; instead, she just hummed, looking down at her dough.

"Have you ever heard someone say that?" Blaine found direct questions were the best way to get the cook to talk.

"I've heard that since I was young."

"Oh," Blaine said, "So it's an old rumor?"

Millie smiled as she glanced at him, "It is a rumor even older than me."

Blaine squirmed in his chair at the kitchen table, he knew better than to remark on a woman's age, and was embarrassed about the slipup. "The rumor isn't true though," he pressed; he really needed to know. He needed a reasonable adult to tell him that it was a silly rumor that should be ignored. He'd ask Aunt Helen, but she wasn't always a reasonable adult.

Millie just shrugged.

Direct questions, Blaine reminded himself. "Is the house haunted?" Blaine asked timidly, a little worried about the answer.

Millie stopped kneading, wiping her hands on her apron and turning to face him. "There have always been stories about this house and the Callaways." She crossed her thin arms over her chest and looked past Blaine with a serious expression, "If life has taught me anything it's that some things can't be explained." She was lost in thought for a moment before turning her gaze back to Blaine, "Is this house haunted? I don't know about that. Is there something special about this place? Yes, I've always thought so." She turned back to her dough, reaching for a rolling pin to thin it out for the pie pan.

Blaine watched her, waiting to see if she'd continue, but she'd already said more than she usually did and that seemed to be all he was going to get.

"Oh. Okay," Blaine nodded as he got up from the table and brought his dishes to the sink, wordlessly washing them and placing them in the drying rack on the counter when he was done. His mind was a tumble of thoughts. Millie was a no-nonsense kind of woman and she hadn't given him the answer he'd expected or wanted. He wasn't sure she'd given him an answer at all.

He went to find his aunt since she'd asked for him, roaming down the long wood paneled hallway to poke his head in the parlor where she often read. She wasn't there so he made his way to the back of the house and her bedroom; he knew sometimes she'd spend whole days there studying.
He knocked on the door and his aunt quickly opened it. Her face looked older than normal for a moment, lined with worry, but the expression was quickly replaced with a kind smile. "Blaine, we need to talk."

"Yes ma'am." Blaine said as his aunt shut the heavy oak door to her room behind her and headed down the hall towards the parlor. "I was thinking we should go on another trip down the shore, there is a great place for whale watching about an hour from here."

Blaine smiled excitedly, "We should wait until Cooper gets here! He'd love that."

His aunt led him to the parlor and then sat down, Blaine taking a chair across from her.

"Well…" Aunt Helen started, her face serious again as she pushed her emerald green glasses up her nose, "I spoke to Cooper today."

Blaine almost bounced out of his chair with excitement, "You did? Did he say when he is coming? Has he booked his flight?"

Helen pursed her lips for a moment, her hands folded in her lap. Blaine knew the signs of bad news when he saw them; he slumped back in his chair, "What did Cooper say?"

"He is very busy you know, and it seems he has some important auditions coming up and-"

"He isn't coming." Blaine finished for her and saw his aunt wince at the bitterness in his words.

"He really wanted to Blaine."

Blaine scoffed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, he was not going to cry about this. "Sure he did. I bet it was really important to him."

"Blaine… I know you were excited to see him."

"No. It's fine. Of course it's fine. He doesn't have to come. I don't want him to come." His words were spoken more harshly than he meant them to be and his voice shook, giving away how he really felt. He hated that about himself, his mother always said he was like an open book. Right now he wanted to slam that book closed and not let anyone—especially his kindhearted aunt—know that Cooper had hurt him.

"We can still go see the whales?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Oh Blaine! Of course." Aunt Helen smiled and stood from her chair, "I know this isn't the summer vacation you wanted, but I hope it isn't all bad."

Blaine stood too and let his aunt wrap him up in a hug and he hid his face in her shoulder for a moment.

"No, it isn't what I wanted at first, but I really do like it here." Just because he was sad, he didn't want to upset his aunt, and he mostly meant it anyway.

Helen ran her hand gently through his thick hair as Blaine calmed himself down, and then he backed away, putting on a smile, "We have fun together don't we?"

Helen smiled back, "We do. You have no idea how much you have brightened up my life these past weeks."

Blaine was happy about that, he wondered if his aunt ever got lonely living here on her own. "Tell me more about these whales—what kind do you think we'll see?" Blaine asked, not wanting to talk about his stupid brother or the fact that his parents had abandoned him this summer — because the truth was he was happy to have the chance to get to know his aunt better. It was Cooper who was missing out by not taking the time to come.

Blaine was able to hold his disappointment back for the rest of the evening. Dinner had been delicious as normal. He and Aunt Helen talked and made plans for their trip down the coast to go whale watching; she had given him a book on blue whales and they spent a couple pleasant hours in the parlor reading together.

It wasn't until Blaine went upstairs for bed that his mind wouldn't stop harassing him about Cooper's abandoned visit. Why did he even care? It wasn't like he and Cooper had ever been great friends.

He climbed into bed and turned to his side, burying his head in his pillow; he knew why this hurt so much. As much fun as he was having here, he was homesick. He missed his parents, and Cooper was his brother; he loved him and wanted to see him. To top it off, Lucy was gone and Blaine was going to be alone for the next month and a half. He'd still have Aunt Helen, who he'd come to love dearly, but he just felt so deserted.

He was an Anderson, but he didn't always feel like one; even before this summer he'd always felt a little out of step with his family. He'd always attributed that to his brother being so much older than him and the fact their parents had had Blaine when his mother was past the age most women had children. But now, he wondered if it was more than that; Aunt Helen was older, but they got along fine. And for a moment, Blaine wished that he wasn't an Anderson, he wished he could be a Callaway. Give up the Anderson name and come live with his aunt permanently. In her weird maybe haunted house while she studied witchcraft and told old stories about crazy ancestors.

Blaine chuckled at the thought, but then the tears came. The homesickness and his anger towards Cooper flooding over him. He cried into his pillow until his shoulders shook, until his throat hurt, until his little heart ached.

He probably would have cried himself to sleep, but from behind him, a gentle and unfamiliar voice softly called out.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Blaine's breath felt like it was punched out of his chest; he sat up in bed so quickly his head swam. He looked around the dark bedroom trying to find the source the voice he heard, but the room was empty.

Blaine swallowed, attempting to wet his suddenly dry throat, "Hello? Is someone there?"

There was a moment of silence where Blaine thought he must have woken up from a very vivid dream, but then same soft voice called out.

"I'm here. I… I think I heard you crying? Are you alright?"

Blaine's heart was pounding hard against his chest like a rabbit's, the voice was a little muffled, but it was nearby and he had no idea where it was coming from.

Blaine cleared his throat again, eyes darting around the moonlit room, "Come out so I can see you!" He tried not to sound as frightened as he felt.

"I don't know how to do that." The voice said, "I mean… I'm right here."

"Where?"

"In my room?" The voice answered tentatively, as if they knew that answer wasn't helpful. They sounded young and confused and somehow that helped Blaine not be as afraid as he probably should have been at hearing a disembodied voice floating through his dark and empty room.

"This is my room." Blaine argued, not liking being made to feel silly and afraid.

"Um… okay. So you're in your room and I'm in mine."

"Come out." Blaine said again, hands gripping the comforter of his bed and his spine tingling. He was scared, but now he was also getting upset, because this seemed like it could be some kind of mean joke.

"I can't." The voice said kindly, "I wouldn't have tried talking to you at all, but you were crying and sounded so sad." The voice sounded unhappy just talking about it and Blaine felt a little embarrassed at being caught crying.

Blaine furrowed his brow trying to figure this out; he pulled his covers up higher as if that would shield him. The voice seemed sincere and caring and he really didn't think this could be a prank, but it was unnerving. He scanned the room again—the old wardrobe was big enough for someone to hide in, but he didn't have the guts to get out of bed and yank the doors open. Then, his eyes fell on the mirror hanging over the fireplace, still covered in a thick quilted blanket.

Oh god.

His interest overcame his panic and he shot up from bed and ran to the desk, again dragging the heavy wooden chair to the fireplace.

"I think I know where you are," Blaine said, half hoping he was wrong. He stood on the chair and grabbed a corner of the blanket, hands shaking a little. He counted to three in his head and then ripped the blanket off the mirror, letting it float to the ground with a flourish.

Blaine held his breath almost expecting to see someone staring back at him from the filmy glass. But it was just the same old mirror; the only face in it his own. Thank goodness, he'd been wrong.

"Hello? Are you still there?" The voice called out after a moment and Blaine gasped, almost falling backwards off the chair; he had to grab the mantel to steady himself. He couldn't see anyone, but the voice was definitely coming from the glass, it was much stronger now without the blanket muffling it and the mirror vibrated with the sound of the voice.

"Oh my god," Blaine said, his stomach twisting with nerves, and if he admitted it, a little excitement. "This is crazy."

"Yeah, a little crazy. I mean, I've never had a magical object talk to me before."

Blaine didn't know what in the world that meant so he ignored it for now — it was slowly dawning on him what had to be happening here. "You're a ghost!" Blaine gasped, remembering what his aunt had said about mirrors and what Lucy had said about the house being haunted. He was still standing on the chair and staring at his reflection; he was trembling a little.

"What? I am not." The voice sounded offended, "I'm not the ghost."

"You think I'm a ghost?" Blaine almost laughed, "I'm not the one talking from inside a mirror."

"Actually, you are." The voice said, amused.

Blaine paused for a moment, "Oh."

"You can hear me from your own mirror?"

"Yeah."

"And your first thought was that I must be a ghost?"

Blaine couldn't understand why he was taking this so calmly, maybe he was still asleep and just dreaming. He did have to admit that the voice didn't seem malevolent in any way. "Well, the house may be haunted and my aunt said mirrors are gateways to the land of the dead so… yeah."

"Well, that was the creepiest thing I've ever heard someone say." The voice answered but they still sounded amused.

"Who are you?" Blaine asked as his curiosity grew stronger than his fear.

"My name is Kurt."

Kurt? That was a perfectly normal name. Blaine smiled a little, he liked it. He was confused, though, as the high sweet voice gave its name, "Kurt is a boy's name."

He heard an exasperated sigh come through the glass, "I am a boy. My dad says my voice will finally change someday soon and maybe people will stop mistaking it for a girl's."

"Your dad? Mirror people have dads?"

"I'm not a mirror person! What is a mirror person? I'm just a normal person," The voice laughed, "Just like I'm assuming you probably are."

Blaine grinned at the teasing tone of the words; he was possibly losing his mind—maybe the house made people crazy, or "eccentric" like Andrew said of his aunt—but the fact of the matter was that he was enjoying talking to Kurt the mirror person.

He hopped down from the rickety old chair and crossed the room until he got back to his bed, crawling up on it and sitting with his knees tucked under his chin. His heart was racing, but he didn't know if it was because he was afraid or excited. "I'm just a normal boy too." Blaine said, "So normal you could even say I was boring."

"Except you live in a haunted house and have an aunt who talks to dead people."

"She doesn't talk to dead people... as far as I know."

"And what is your name normal boring kid?"

Blaine laughed despite himself and the strange situation he found himself in. "I'm Blaine." Perhaps part of his acceptance of the situation was relief, the mirrors in this house had worried him up to this point, but if all they did were provide someone to talk to, that wasn't so bad.

"Blaine." Kurt repeated the name like he was trying it out. "Okay Blaine, since we've concluded you aren't a ghost or actually in my mirror where are you?"

"I'm visiting my aunt in Maine. A little town called Bluespruce. Where are you?"

"What was that?"

"I'm visiting my aunt in Bluespruce, Maine. Where are you?" Blaine repeated louder, realizing a little late that he should be careful not to alert his aunt.

"Okay that's weird I can hear you say you're visiting your aunt but when you say where you are your voice gets all… wobbly."

"I'm in Bluespruce Maine."

"Nope, doesn't work." Kurt said giggling a little, and there was something very warming about Kurt's laugh, "I can't seem to hear you say where you are."

"Where are you?"

"In my bedroom in uninteresting old-" the end of the sentence was cut off by a strange sound like someone warping metal, like the warbling sound a saw blade makes when bent.

"Try one more time." Blaine said, leaning forward on his bed.

Kurt tried again to tell him where he lived but the mirror just made that distorted noise again.

"Why is it doing that?" Blaine asked.

"Honestly, I don't know why it is doing any of this. Talking to someone through a mirror is new to me."

Blaine was quiet a moment, trying to take this all in. If this was really happening, and not just a dream or Blaine losing his mind, then he was magically talking to someone through a mirror.

Cool.

He should tell his aunt, she would be ecstatic… but for some reason he didn't really want to. Not yet at least. His aunt had lived here her whole life, and as far as he knew, no mirror had ever communicated with her. This was special, it was something special that had happened just for him and he wanted to hold on to that.

"I guess the mirror doesn't want us to know where each other are." Blaine finally concluded.

"You say that like mirrors are alive and have a mind of their own." Kurt's vice was light and airy as if none of this was particularly surprising to him.

Blaine shrugged and then realized Kurt couldn't see him, "Well, the mirrors here are unusual."

"The mirrors where I am are completely normal, except this one. The one I'm using to talk to you."

"How old are you Kurt?" Blaine asked, suddenly curious to know everything he could about this boy he'd met so oddly — even if he was perhaps just a dream.

"I'm thirteen."

"That's my age! Well, almost, I'm twelve." Blaine hugged his legs close and smiled, this was fun.

Kurt was quiet a moment and Blaine was worried maybe they'd lost the connection, "Why were you crying Blaine?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine, who'd been staring at the mirror across the room, looked down to the bed he was sitting on. "I didn't mean for anyone to hear that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spy. But the magic let me hear you for some reason and you just sounded heartbroken." Kurt's voice was so soft and sympathetic and Blaine was feeling so alone…

"I guess I was crying because I miss my family," he answered slowly, lowering his legs and sitting crisscross, as he played with the hem of his pajama pants, still not looking up to the mirror. "I'm alone visiting my aunt, and she is great, but… my brother was going to visit and he decided not to and my parents didn't want me to go on vacation with them and my only friend here left today…" Blaine knew he was saying more that he would normally but it was just so nice to have someone to talk to—the tight knot that had been in his chest all evening had started to unravel. "I'm probably just feeling sorry for myself and I need to suck it up."

"I don't think you're just feeling sorry for yourself or that you need to suck it up." Kurt said gently, "I think you're lonely."

Blaine laughed and hiccupped back his tears as the word hit home. He was lonely. He bunched the comforter up and hugged it to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut; he didn't want to cry again.

"Blaine?"

Blaine didn't answer right away, he needed to get the tears out of his voice first.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Kurt continued picking his words out carefully as if it was important for him to get them right, "I'm not somewhere without my family, but I understand how you feel. To think you're all alone. It's okay to feel that way, but I'm sorry you're sad."

Blaine looked up at the glass again, expecting to see someone looking back at him, but he didn't get to see Kurt, just hear his kind words.

"Thank you," Blaine said quietly, feeling a bit better. Just having someone acknowledge how he felt and not tell him it was silly helped a lot. He smiled, not fully understanding what was happening or why it didn't scare him, but glad to talk to someone like Kurt. "I have my aunt at least, she's cool."

"I have my dad." Kurt said, "I don't have a lot of friends but he is always there for me."

Blaine bit his lip, "Maybe we could be friends?" He asked, "Mirror friends."

Kurt laughed and the glass vibrated with it, "This is absolutely the weirdest way I've ever made a friend before."

"Me too."

"But yeah. Mirror friends."

"Mirror friends." Blaine repeated happily, yawning and lying down in bed pulling the covers over him. "Kurt, tell me something about yourself and we'll see what the mirror lets us say and what it tunes out."

Kurt laughed again and Blaine's chest warmed at the sound.

"Um, okay, I work in my family's antique shop and that's where I found this magic mirror."

Blaine chuckled at the way he said "magic mirror" as if that was a normal thing to find.

"If there is such a thing as magic mirrors I think all of the old mirrors in this house might be magic."

"I guess that could be. Magic often finds its way into old things. It would be incredible to be in a house full of magic mirrors!"

"Up until now they've been nothing but creepy." Blaine yawned again, "Do you know a lot about magic?"

"I guess. Some." Kurt answered and Blaine could hear the pride in his voice.

"My aunt is trying to learn magic. Or witchcraft I guess. Are you a witch, Kurt?"

Kurt was quiet for a moment, "Not really," he eventually answered, "I told you I'm just a normal boy."

"Who knows about magic mirrors."

"It isn't just mirrors that can have magic," Kurt said excitedly.

Blaine lay in bed while Kurt told him about all the different kinds of magic items he'd found in his family's shop. The typewriter that would make typing sounds even when no one was using it. The shepherdess figurine that let out bird songs as if you could hear the fields she would have been working in. The old grandfather clock that murmured hushed lullabies. Blaine could hardly believe it was real, it all sounded like something out of a story.

After a while, Blaine started to feel heavy with sleep, he couldn't keep his eyes open. His bed comfortable and his body tired from the sun and his earlier tears.

"I'll let you sleep." Kurt said kindly after Blaine had stifled yet another yawn, "Good night Blaine."

"Good night mirror friend." Blaine said and fell asleep to the sound of Kurt's kind chuckle.

Blaine woke up the next morning feeling rested and happy. He lay in bed for a moment as he remembered the day before. Lucy leaving and finding out that Cooper wasn't going to come see him. Why was he feeling happy again? His eyes landed on the mirror on the other side of the room, no longer covered by the blanket that had hidden it for the past month.

Blaine sat up quickly in bed, his heart in his throat. "Kurt?" He called, "Kurt, are you there?"

There wasn't any answer.

He got out of bed, flinging the covers off of him, and ran towards the mirror quickly hopping up on the chair and looking at the glass, "Hey Kurt. Mirror friend? Can you hear me?" Kurt didn't answer, but there was the slight tapping noise that came from the mirrors in the house. Because after last night, Blaine was willing to admit it was the mirrors making noise, not just sounds of the house settling.

He lifted his hand and tapped lightly on the mirror. It was still crackling, but there was no echoing tap. "Kurt?"

Nothing.

Blaine sighed and climbed down from the chair, feeling disappointed. Maybe he really had dreamt it all. The thought hurt, he really wanted Kurt to be real.

The day passed slowly, his aunt was busy and the beach that he normally enjoyed wasn't as attractive to him today without Lucy. He found himself wandering through the wide long halls of the house, looking at old portraits before ducking back into his room time and time again, hoping to hear a friendly sweet voice drifting from the mirror.

Eventually, he ended up walking down the south corridor until it dead-ended at the door to the third story. The door was a solid wood like the rest of the doors in the house, but carved in an intricate pattern, trees and leaves and a stag with five point antlers. Blaine turned from the door to look into the mirror on the wall next to it—it was like all the mirrors here, elaborate metal frame and filmy glass. He tapped the glass lightly, but the mirrors had gone quiet again. He met Saffron Callaway's eyes through the reflection and then turned to face her.

She looked back at him from the chair where she sat. Hands in her lap, her back straight. Next to the chair was a small round table with a silver handheld mirror on it. He glanced at it, but not for long, there was something about Saffron's face that was hard to look away from.

"Were you really a witch?" He asked the portrait, "Or did you just know about magic the way Kurt does?" Though honestly Blaine didn't know what the difference was.

The portrait didn't answer him, which he was very grateful for. Saffron just stared blankly at him with her golden eyes. He moved away to leave the hall — and heard a scrape behind him.

He turned around to see the door to the third floor slowly creaking open. Blaine shuddered and looked back at Saffron, "What is wrong with this house?"

He took a step forward and then another. Would his aunt mind if he went upstairs? She'd never said not to, just mentioned that the house was too big for her so she'd shut this section off. He walked through the decorative doorway and started up the steep, creaky wooden steps.

The third floor wasn't laid out like the second floor with its long halls and numerous rooms. Instead, he found himself in a large open area with a door to his right and a door at the far end. The room was gorgeous, wood floor and intricate carved woodwork around the ceiling, gold and teal latticework patterned wallpaper on the walls.

The room was mostly empty. The furniture that was here covered with dusty sheets, but from the shapes he guessed there was a sofa, a coffee table and some chairs. He started walking to the door at the end of the room, the wooden floor groaning beneath his feet, but as he passed it, the door to his right scraped gradually open. And okay… this was getting weird.

Blaine licked his lips and looked through the door. The third floor was dark, the only light available coming from the windows, but that filtered through the thin drapes that covered them. Blaine turned from the door and walked to a window in the large room, pulling open the drapes to let in the sun. It helped marginally, the windows were dusty and only let in some light.

He sighed and walked back to the open door, taking a deep breath before going through. The back of his neck prickled. He felt bold and a little scared, it was a kind of fun combination. He wasn't as fearful as he would have been once, not since meeting Kurt the night before. So far the creepiness of the house had brought him something good.

This room was smaller than the one he'd just come from. It only had two windows set in the back wall and was even darker, he walked to the widows, almost tripping over a piece of furniture as he did, and opened the drapes. The light wasn't much but he could at least make his way around the airless dusty room without running into anything.

There were just a few items in the room and he started pulling the sheets off them, beginning with the item he'd bumped into, which turned out to be a desk and chair. He tried opening the desk drawers but they were all locked with no key in sight. Next, he pulled an old yellowing sheet off of a very worn and tattered-looking traveling trunk; he knelt down to open it, but it was locked as well. Next, he uncovered a long, plain wooden table and an old velvet chair, but the velvet was worn and holed and the chair looked rickety.

He went to the last object in the room and pulled off the sheet, stirring up more dust. His breath caught in his throat when the sheet fell and he almost panicked — underneath the sheet was a person, wide eyes staring back at him.

In that frozen moment Blaine's blood ran cold. It took only a second to realize he wasn't staring at another person; it was just his own reflection staring wildly back at him. He had pulled the sheet off a large full length mirror. Blaine sighed in relief and laughed at himself even as his heart was still pounding too fast.

The mirror was framed in ornate metal, its glass wasn't foggy like the other mirrors, but there was a thin jagged crack that ran from top to bottom.

Blaine brought a hand up to the mirror and pressed his palm against the glass. Waiting. Wondering if this was another tapping mirror, but it didn't make any sound. He was starting to think he'd like to go back downstairs because the third floor was kind of giving him the creeps when a deep bellowing clang came from the mirror; it made the glass shudder and Blaine's heart leapt to his throat. He jumped back from the mirror, pulling his hand away as fast as he could.

He stood there and stared at his reflection, eyes wide and worried, cheeks a little pale. There was a long moment of silence where Blaine could only hear his hurried breaths, then — gong — the mirror rang out again. The glass actually bending, curving outwards as if being pressed from behind. Blaine took several speedy steps away from the mirror, but at almost the same moment there was a loud bang behind him and Blaine spun around to find the door to the room had slammed shut. Blaine let out an involuntary cry of terror and ran for the door, tugging on the old-fashioned glass handle.

It wouldn't budge.

"No!" Blaine's breaths were shallow. He just wanted to get out of here. Coming up here had been a terrible idea. He glanced behind his shoulder as the mirror let out another loud bellow and the whole thing shook, rattling loudly.

"Help!" Blaine cried, tears in his voice, hand still pulling the door, "Someone help me!"

Finally, the door sprang open so quickly that Blaine lost his footing and toppled to the ground, hissing in pain as he hit the hard wood floor. He recovered quickly, springing back to his feet and fleeing the room, heart in his throat. He ran through the first large open area and down the stairs as fast as his feet would take him. In fact, he didn't stop running; he reached the ground floor and flew out the back door, almost tripping over his feet in his hurry. He finally slowed down when he arrived at the beach; he leaned over hands on his knees and panted.

That was the single most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him. It was as if that mirror had lured him up there and had then come after him! He was never going to the third floor again. He wasn't even going to tell his aunt about it—afraid she'd want to investigate.

The whole house was eerie and the mirrors had always given him chills, but that mirror was alarming, there was something about it that just felt wrong. He didn't want to even think about it, he wished he'd never seen it.

Blaine crumpled to the sand and looked out at the water, his hands were shaking, but after a while he stared to breathe more easily, his heart slowly returning to a normal pace. He played with the sand to calm himself, threading his fingers through it and then scooping it up and letting it slide smoothly through his fist. It took a long time, the sun had started to set, but eventually Blaine was mostly composed again. His hands not shaking and his heart rate steady.

He smiled ruefully to himself; maybe the house was haunted after all, there was certainly something not right about it. Though… it couldn't be all bad, the mirror in his room must be good. It brought him Kurt.

Blaine felt better at that thought. He couldn't tell his aunt about the mirror on the third floor, for her own protection, but maybe he could tell Kurt. Kurt knew about magic.

He stood from the beach, brushing his sandy hands off on his pants, feeling only a little shaky, and headed back to the house, his stomach growling for dinner.

Now, he just needed to find a way to talk to Kurt again.