SBI Oneshots

The Magic Mirror

      Tubbo huffed, the dust in the air making his throat hurt a little. The window was already open and it did nothing to help the already horrible air quality. With a sigh, he picked up his damp sponge and went to work.

      The abundance of items in the attic was a lot to handle, especially for one teenage boy, but it was his punishment, so he had to do it. Tubbo started swiping the sponge across the dusty surfaces, cleaning them of the filth they were covered in. He wasn't doing a very good job, but it was enough to satisfy his parents who would check on him every hour or so.

      He cleaned everything from jewelry boxes to glass jars to old record players. It was a very messy attic, and the fact his parents were hoarders who hated cleaning didn't help.

      Tubbo mumbled under his breath, wanting a way to pass the time. "It's not my fault they put the vase there without telling me..." He scrubbed aggressively at a sticky spot on an old violin case. "If they would have just told me then maybe I wouldn't have thrown the spoon without looking..."

       His eyebrows furrowed, pushing himself off the old desk and moving on to a simpler, easier item to clean: a mirror.

       He dipped his sponge in the soapy water once again, then started scrubbing at the glass. His reflection already looked sweaty and tired, even though he had only been in the attic for less than 20 minutes.

      The boy grunted, putting his hands on either side of the wood surrounding the glass part and resting for a moment. One deep breath later, he opened his eyes, and the room he was in was different than it had been a second ago.

      The mirror was still in front of him, but he was in an entirely different room and different house. The room looked like a living room of some sort, though it was much warmer than Tubbo's living room. It had a bookcase, a fireplace, and candles on the coffee table. Nobody was there with him, but he could hear the faint sounds of guitar playing in another room.

      Tubbo gulped, glancing at the mirror behind him once again. It was clean, much cleaner than it was when Tubbo took his five-second break, but it was still the same mirror. He backed away from it, the reality of the situation finally sitting in.

      He wasn't in his attic anymore. He wasn't in his house anymore, and he didn't know how he got there or how to get back.

       The boy's breathing quickened, finally taking a look around the house other than just the living room. The kitchen was one door over, the smell of spaghetti spilling out of it as a man rushed around, preparing food.

      He cleared his throat. "Hello?"

      The man spun on his heels, confusion written on his face. He set down his wooden spoon, turning off the stove and taking off his oven mitts. "Um... Hello? How did you get in here? Did Tommy forget to lock the door again?"

      "N-no. I, uh... I don't know how I got here. One minute I was in my attic, cleaning," he gestured to the dust covering his clothes and the dirty sponge in his hand, "and the next I was in your living room. I'm sorry to be a bother, but where am I?"

      The man seemed taken aback, definitely not expecting that answer. "What do you mean you 'don't know how you got here'?" Tubbo shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer. The timer on the stove beeped and the man went into a panic, putting his oven mitts on and taking the pot of boiling water and noodles to the sink.

      Tubbo's stomach growled, quite loudly. "Are you hungry?"

      "Kind of. I haven't eaten all day, so, yeah. Where am I, though?" The man sat the pot down in the sink, then rushed back to the oven to do something else.

      "Um... You're in Brighton, and in my house." He opened the oven door, taking out what seemed to be garlic bread. "I'm sorry, but I'm kind of making food right now. Since you don't know how to get home, you're welcome to join me and my family for dinner, then we can talk afterward."

      Tubbo met the gaze of the man. He seemed tired, as if he had been working hard all day with no break, just as Tubbo had been doing. "Yeah, ok. Do you want some help?"

-

      "So you just fucking appeared?" Tommy said, piling some noodles into his mouth. Phil, who Tubbo learned the name of after a long conversation with the man, as well as the names of all his sons, gave Tommy a sharp glare. Tommy smiled sheepishly, swallowing the rest of the food before he spoke again. "Is the mirror, like, some teleportation type shit?"

      "Maybe. Phil let me use his phone to look up the address of my home, and apparently, it went up in a fire 2 years ago. It's still the same year though, so I didn't like... pass out or something for two years. The internet says that my family and I are supposed to be dead, but that can't be because I had a conversation with them literally seven hours ago."

      Wilbur leaned on his elbows, taking interest in the new boy. "Where did your family get the mirror?"

       Tubbo scoffed. "Hell if I know. My mum is such a hoarder that half the shit in that attic doesn't even work. She told me she bought most of the stuff from garage sales and stuff." The smell of garlic bread overwhelmed his senses, mouth watering at the scent. Although Phil had been kind enough to give Tubbo some spaghetti, he only made enough garlic bread for each person to have one, excluding the surprise guest.

      "We got ours from an old family member that passed away. He said that it was important to him and that's why he gave it to us." Tommy broke his untouched piece of bread in half, giving the smaller one to Tubbo. "Maybe if you just recreate the scenery then it'll send you back. Your family is probably worried about you by now."

       Tubbo smiled, the idea Phil had suggested being a good one. "Hold on, I'm gonna go try that." With one last bite of the noodles and a crunch on the bread, he headed back to the living room, the family of four following close behind.

      He put both his hands on either side of the wood, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself. The boy waited a few seconds, then slowly squinted his eyes open, being met with the scenery of his still dusty attic, the dirty bucket of water back beside his feet where he had left it.

      The sensation was weird; he didn't even feel anything as he was transported from one place to another. It was as if he just stood there, not even moving at all, and yet somehow he traveled to a whole new dimension. 

      "Woah." Tubbo backed away from the mirror again, much like he had done in Phil's living room. His ears slowly focused on his surroundings, and the shouting of his mother became more and more clear with each passing second.

      "Tubbo! Are you eating dinner or not?!" Tubbo groaned, the thought of eating after that large helping of spaghetti making him want to puke.

      "No! I think I'll just shower and head to bed for tonight!"

      With one last glance at the mirror, he smiled. I am definitely going back there some time.