Dan & Phil Oneshots

The Boy in the Mirror

Warning: Strong language

(Dan's POV)

Screw fairy tales.

I know that's probably not what you expected to hear right off the bat, but seriously, why on earth do people make up wild and crazy stories just to entertain themselves and other people? It's stupid. My mom would always read them to me as a child, and of course, I believed them. Then I got into elementary school and everyone made fun of me for believing them. 

So screw fairy tales. 

Sorry, that was a rude way to introduce myself. So, hi. My name is [Dan]. I'm currently going through my last year of high school and my parents need me to go through all of my stuff before going off to college. Short and to the point, just how I like it. Anywho, I've been going through all of the stuff in my room for the past few days, sorting through many trophies from elementary school talent shows, scrapbooks of pictures I took with my first camera, and several books I've collected over the years. None of which I wish to take with me. 

I soon come across my old book of fairy tales, grimacing as I throw it into the donate pile. "Dan! Why are you getting rid of that? You loved those stories!" My mom exclaims as she walks into my room. "I don't like 'em anymore. They aren't even real!" My mom sighs and bends over, picking up the book that laid face-down on a pile of other miscellaneous crap. "I'm keeping this just in case." "I highly doubt I'll need it!" "And I doubt that, too!" she calls back as she leaves my room. 

I scowl before continuing to throw other books onto the pile, only stopping to decide on keeping the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series (highly recommend it). "Oh, honey!" "What, Mom?" "There's more stuff of yours in the attic!"

The attic. I don't think I've ever been in the attic. I always stay away from it since I know there'll be a butt load of spiders up there. But, casting my arachnophobia aside, I grab the stepladder from the garage and climb up into the attic. Shifting the door aside, I poke my head up into the dark room. I went back down to get a torch so I could actually see something, but once I got back up there, I take my first look around. From my low vantage point, I can see boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous objects scattered about the floor. 

With no spiders in sight, I deem it safe enough to fully climb up the ladder and step into the attic. There is a box nearby labeled "Dan's Childhood," so I open it and start going through it. I come across my baby photos (gosh, I was a wrinkly gremlin), a lock of hair from my first haircut (what the hell, parents?), and my old baby onesies (why?). Nothing of use here, so I go in search for other boxes. 

Eventually, I get through most of the boxes minus the ones stacked against the wall. I carefully maneuver the ones on top onto the floor and am about to start unpacking them when I catch a glimpse of something shiny. I shove the other boxes out of the way to find, low and behold, a floor-length mirror. 

How amazing (sarcasm intended).

I roll my eyes and turn my back to it, focusing on fishing out old toys from the newly-open boxes. That is, until I hear a small cough. I lift my head and pause my actions, not yet looking in the direction the sound came from. Thinking of it as a trick of the mind, I continue unpacking... until I hear it again. Thinking it is just some boxes that were about to fall from the wall, I turn around only to stumble back in fright at the sight of a boy in the mirror. 

No, you idiot. It isn't my reflection. 

He is my age, but a little smaller and paler than me with black hair and blue eyes. He gives me a little smile as I grip my shirt in fright. "Hello. I didn't mean to scare you." "What the hell?" "Sorry, I should introduce myself. My name's Phil. Phil Lester, that is." He smiles and blinks his eyes twice after speaking, leaving me to reply with another "What the hell?" He laughs, the sound mimicking the chiming of bells.