HIM

I can’t remember for how long.
But I have never seen my own reflection…rather a boy’s
He, at times, even talks to me

About this, I have never told a single soul.
Besides, who would even believe me…?

In the mirror, she kept glaring at the boy who glared back. The two tried to hold back their laughter but could no longer suppress it and burst into hysterical laughter together. A cold breeze flared the curtains. The girl smiled and glanced out of the window adjacent to the bed.

The room was small with white walls and a single window. Her dressing table was next to her bed, where she would spend hours talking to the boy.

She slowly picked up her shirt and turned away from the mirror.

“Aww, come on, let me see!?”

Her face burnt with bashful pink cheeks. She peeked into the mirror, where in her place stood a boy, holding the same shirt. He smiled at her.

“No!” She turned around and quickly pulled off her shirt, her bare back facing the mirror. She sighed and clenched her shirt. “You aren’t watching, right?”

“Turn around and see for yourself~” His voice resonated playfully.

As she continued changing, she shivered with a sense of a gaze lingering on her back. Adjusting her shirt, she brushed her fingers against her trousers.

He won’t watch, he won’t…he… Ah damn, why am I getting conscious of him these days?

She strode to the mirror, her legs covered behind the table. She fixed her gaze on him, he mimicked her, and they stared at each other’s faces while she changed into her skirt.

“You are mean.” He pouted.

“So are you…peeking at a girl.”

“You do know I only copy you~” He smiled as they both moved away from the mirror.

She glanced at him; he wore the same school uniform as her. She stared at his skirt, which, in a blink, changed into his usual clothes.

“Why do you always wear these?” She pointed at him.

“I don’t know, I think maybe it’s because…” He chuckled. “Honestly, no clue.”

*Knock knock*

They both turned to face the door, and they exchanged a glance.

“Come in!”

The door creaked open, and her mother’s face emerged from the opening as she entered her room.

“Dear, the breakfast is ready….. Daddy is awake too, so he will join us.” Her mother tilted her head with a nervous smile.

She glanced at the mirror and back at her. “You carried him to the breakfast table?”

“Oh, no, no, Riku, we bought the wheelchair recently?” Her voice was soft, yet confused.

“Ohhh, it slipped my mind. I am coming.” She waved at her.

Her mother smiled, looking around the room, and closed the door, leaving her behind.

“Your mother must have heard you talking to me.” The boy chuckled.

She shrugged and walked closer to him. “She must be used to it by now.” She turned around and walked over to the door. Without looking at him, she walked out the door.

Walking down the small hallway, she could see him walking in her reflection. Her shadow, the small decorative mirrors, and even the glass of all the paintings – it was him in her place.

She took a turn and entered the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

He is there in my reflection; he is always with me.
I don’t know him, but he feels close to me.
I wonder if I will ever be able to meet him outside of the mirror.

Maybe he has won me over, but I love his company….
But I am not sure if my feelings are romantic
He feels like he is me…or he is a brother…or he is a friend…or

Whatever.