Through The Mirror | Yoongi ff

PART II | the ghost from the mirror

It has been two days. The storm had already passed and the sun is already visiting the once bedroom of Freya, making the room glow in golden. Her job does not start until next week so she took all the time to herself to fix her unit, put things in order, and made some time to pay the owner a visit to ask about the previous tenant— whom she grew so curious about since the unordinary encounter with the ghost from the mirror. Freya etched it in her brain that what happened that Thursday morning was not a dream. It really happened and she most definitely arrived to a conclusion that her unit is actually haunted with the ghost from the mirror. Ever since then, she had transferred her bedroom to the other room near the kitchen. The room has been turned into her office. To avoid seeing the ghost again, she, too, has covered the mirror with a cloth. It makes her feel safe when she comes in to look into some of her papers.

Of course, Freya had tried a couple of times ringing her friends, asking for help in finding her another apartment that’s just minutes away from her workplace— but to no avail, all the apartments in the city is cramped up and full. She has no choice but to stay.

“It creeps me out to be honest.” Freya is following the owner around as he waters his various plants in his garden on the rooftop of the building. “I mean, why haven’t you even told me that the previous owner died? That’s false advertising, you know.”

“How am I suppose to sell my units if that’s the first thing I put on an online post?” The owner, Mr. Jeon, stops what he’s doing to face the adamant Freya.

“Unit available! But hold on, the previous tenant died! 50% discount due to this on your first three months! What are you waiting for?” Mr. Jeon throws his hands up and mocks the poor girl. It leaves a grumpy Freya, staring at him, displeased.

Mr. Jeon erupts in fits of laughter, making fun of Freya, his tenant. Should he really be laughing right now? Freya couldn’t help but question Mr. Jeon’s understanding of the matter. She angrily sips into her coffee, ignoring the forty year old man’s laugh dying down.

“You shouldn’t really be scared, Freya.” The man is now back, stable, but still a goofy smile is written on his lips. He continues hosing the plants with water. Freya observed how the landlord loves his plants so much. It’s the first thing he does in the morning, he goes upstairs at around 7 o’clock to check on his plants. He was so worried the past couple of days. He couldn’t sleep thinking about the storm and how it might have destroyed his poor plants. Freya helped him yesterday to clean up the mess. Some roots were yanked out of their pots, leaving Mr. Jeon swearing towards the passing storm.

“Miss Tammy was sent to a residence for the aged and expired there.” He pauses and looks at Freya, seeing that she’s quiet and intent in listening, he continued. “She left this place six months before she died so the unit is unoccupied for about a year and a half.”

“No one wanted the unit for that time being. As if the unit itself is driving the people away. They couldn’t last a minute inside and just run out of the door, leaving me baffled. But nothing is wrong. I go inside and it’s just fine. I believed it’s the mirror. It has a dark aura in it. I tried many times to remove it myself despite my promise towards Miss Tammy. I needed more money to support my son in looking for a job at an airline. It’s antique and I was desperate. But it just wouldn’t budge.” Mr. Jeon reaches for the faucet nearby and turns it to stop the water from coming out of the hose. He places it on top of the railing and pushes his right sleeve to reveal a long, deep scar.

Freya gasped. “It’s what the mirror did to me when I tried to remove it.”

“It’s cursed, isn’t it?”

“Many times when I roam around at night to check for stray animals, I could hear Miss Tammy talk. It’s like she’s having a conversation inside— she even laughs— which she rarely do. Miss Tammy wasn’t really bright as a person. She was often serious and misunderstood. But I heard her having gossips with another person inside that unit, and it creeps me out sometimes because I know she’s alone. Nobody visits the old woman.” The man pushes the sleeves back down and brush his hand over his arm twice. “My hairs are standing.” He grins. It makes the hairs on the nape of Freya’s neck stand too.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, because I might drive you away but you seemed the kind of person who won’t believe what I’m saying.” For a second, Freya found Mr. Jeon as insensitive and a fool. She is scared. She does believe and she is really terrified.

After that, Mr. Jeon didn’t want to talk further about it. He said he’ll continue for another time. He didn’t want to creep Freya out but he couldn’t help his mouth from running. It’s a mistake that he did because as soon as she got back to her unit, Freya started to pack her things.

“f**k it, I wouldn’t risk another night here.” She whispers to herself as she enters the room with the mirror. Though there is clearly a cloth hanging over the mirror, she doesn’t glance at it, not even once. She straight away goes to the mini bookshelf and start stacking up her books.

“I don’t know where I’m going but it’s better than staying here. This place is a freakshow,” she continues talking to herself as she transfer to her desk, collecting the papers into her arms. “Mr. Jeon would understand.”

“Understand what?”

“He’ll understand that this unit is no longer habitabl—“ her words fade out into distance after it hit her. Someone talked back to her and it’s definitely not the voice in her head.

Three knocks follow. She falls silent. Standing, frozen, with papers gripped close to her chest. Her muscles tenses.

“Did you put something over the mirror too?” It’s the same guy from the mirror. He’s back. After two days, he’s back to haunt Freya out of the unit.

“I’m leaving!” She whimpers. Her hands scurry away, gathering all the things she can carry in her small hands and arms. It makes her heart beat faster, every second of it, and now beads of sweat are forming on her forehead.

“Why do you sound so scared?” The voice scoffs. “Do you think I’m some kind of a ghost?”

“If you’re not one, then what are you?”

“Has it ever cross your mind that I’m just like you?”

“L-like me?”

“A functional, living, breathing human? I also have a job you know.”

Freya whips her head towards the mirror. A couple of things from her hands drops. “What?” She snaps.

“Would you please remove this?” He knocks twice against the mirror. Freya who is now burning with questions drops the things altogether and approached the mirror with heavy, angry steps. She yanks the cloth away and ends up face to face with the guy with cold, hooded eyes.

Her face reddens from the closeness of their faces. She takes a couple of steps away from the mirror while the guy just leans back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“What did you mean?” Freya asks.

The guy does not answer, instead, he falls silent, observing the room where Freya is standing. He notices it. The changes in the room. For a second, his eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended by it. Instinctively, Freya moves to cover the part where his eyes are boring.

Unlike Freya’s, the guy’s room is just as the same. Dark curtains coupled with the dark sheets covering his bed. It appears that every color Freya likes, he despises. He has everything of the darker shades of every color. Not one thing resembling the bright palettes inside of Freya’s closet.

“Hey.” He blinks twice, her voice drags him away from his deep train of thoughts.

“Huh?” Freya just realized he spaced out. She then, ignoring that fact, crosses her arms over her chest.

“You said you’re just like me.”

“I am.”

The woman scowls, unsatisfied with the one word, one sentence reply of the guy. “Couldn’t you be more responsive? You know? Be more sensitive towards me?” Her hands flies up in frustration.

"Why?"

This one word reply brings both her hands against her face, as she screams into it. “I hate this!” Freya storms towards the cloth and picks it up. It’s like that one word was enough to push her to her final decision. Leave the mirror, leave this unit. Get over all this bullshit.

“W-w-wait!” He stutters over a word. His hands are stretched and out, attempting to stop Freya from covering the mirror again. This doesn’t faze Freya. She’s determined and very done. None of this would rattle her anymore, except for the very two words that comes out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Forced but begging, enough for Freya to stop bolting towards the mirror.

“I know you’re way over your head right now.” He runs his hand over his hair, untangling some strands as he does. “But before anything else, I’m Yoongi.” He stretches his hand out in an offer of a stupid, invisible handshake.

Freya’s eyebrows are knitted together. Confused, disturbed, and full of questions, still, she reaches her hand out as well. “I’m Freya.”

Then they seal the loose understanding with an invisible handshake. It’s where it starts. The blossoming of a friendship— or maybe something more—through the mirror.