**Warning/Disclaimer**

To put it simply, and the easiest, this story is yaoi. Boy/boy love, romantic and slightly fairy-tale connotations. Spirits and magic and love…yeah…*grin* I don't think this will have any explicit scenes-well, nothing more than a few touches and thoughts and kisses…but if it does, I'll tell you where to look. *wink*

-Oiy! The characters Daisuke and Ken don't belong to me, they belong to the digimon-god. (creator?) who knows--*sniff*. Anyhoo…if ya got probs….*shrug* I've warned and disclaimed. It sure as hell ain't mine.

The story, plot and any other creations are, however-and I do NOT tolerate theft. Ever. Don't make the mistake of misunderstanding that. Anyhoo…^_^ this was also run thru the ML a while ago…and since I've re-versioned one to show to my fiction class-(shhhhhh)-I figgered I'd post a start. Oh. And one other thing. If you see this story under Van's name at ffnet or various places-I've given permission for him to host it-

well, DUH…who'd you think that was? *grin* Enjoy! *Sug and her various alter egos skitter off*

(arg, this is like the tenth time I've uploaded this…>_<;;; stupid mistakes keep me making me be perfectionist…>P)

~Spectre~

It was raining outside when he stumbled into the shop, soaked and dripping rivulets of water down his skin. He wasn't dressed for the weather-far from it. He wore a simple tank and baggy jeans, ripped and faded. Comfortable jeans exposed a lean glimpse of a tan belly as the soaked shirt rose fractionally with the lifted shoulders. The bell jingled softly with the movement of the door before sliding shut with a finalizing rasp. Through the windows he saw the sharp blinding stabs of lightning that left faint purple images on his eyelids long after they had disappeared into the clouds again, while thunder spoke in gentle far-away counterpart.

Daisuke made a face, as he rubbed at his bare arms, and turned to look at the place he had stumbled into for temporary shelter. "Ma~an…what a weird dump," he muttered, squinting in the gloom. And it was. Shelves and cluttered counters stretched before him, filled with small indiscriminate things that Daisuke had never seen before. He noticed half-burned candles protruding from one box, covered in driblets of frozen wax, and swathed in moth-eaten crushed velvet. Another shelf sported tiny shrunken roses, dried to the color black, resting in the porcelain sculpture of a bony hand. Tiny figurines cast in different metals like plain unpolished grainy-looking steel and tarnished gold. Silver glinted deep from the box as he paused, head bent, to peer into a case of what appeared to be dried grapes, or something.

~This place is weird,~ he thought again, and straightened. "Umm…Hello? I hope you're not closed or anything-I just wanted to get in…um, from the storm?" Water trickled unpleasantly down his back and neck, unnoticed in the resounding silence. "Is anyone here?" he tried again, and raked his fingers through his dripping hair.

He sighed, then, and glanced over his shoulder to where the rain was pounding the pavement in fierce needles, skittering in the gusts of wind. Lightning flashed threateningly, lighting up the clouds for brief and eerie moments while the thunder mumbled overhead.

//Hello-anyone here?//

Daisuke paused in the middle of turning, hearing the faint whisper of sound on the edge of his senses but saw no one in the store. "Um…hello?" ~Must have been an echo or something…~

A flicker of movement, farther down the aisle, caught his eye and was gone, vanished behind a stack of boxes filled with old newspapers and an antique candlestick. More wax was melted in clumps and bubbled knobs, dusty and yellowed. Curious, his heart tripping with the childish anticipation of ghosts or other such frivolities, Daisuke stepped forward. He followed the faint gleam ahead of him, squeezing around boxes of moth eaten clothing and tarnished objects, carefully watching his arms to make sure nothing was knocked over.

He had reached the back of the room, covered with cobwebby dust and shadowed by the lack of proper lighting, by the time he found the source of the gleam. A mirror stood in a delicate ornate metal frame, tilted slightly and partially draped with a pale creamy cloth. He let out his breath in an awed whisper of sound, leaning close. Between the folds of the drape, the surface of the glass gleamed in reflected light, standing out surprisingly bright against the shadows. The metal, chased and tarnished silver by the looks of it, cast a soft glow, cradling the glass in intricate whirls and patterns.

"…wow…" Daisuke breathed, and twitched away the cover. A whisper of laughter swirled through his head as the mirror creaked on rusted swivels, tilting slightly. As the drape slithered away to pool on the floor, he saw himself, wet and dripping water on the floor, his shirt clinging to him and beads of water gleaming on his skin. He seemed ethereal, lit from behind by the overhead lights and from the reflected lights as well. His skin almost glowed, taking on the bronzed hue of one who loved the sun. His hair, normally a dark reddish brown, gleamed flatly, wet and dripping as well. He stood, staring into the reflective surface for a long time, ignoring the paler spots on the glass from age, the streaks and dust on the glass.

~I have to have this…~

For most of his life Motomiya Daisuke had never seen anything as beautiful, simple and elegant as this. He wasn't a person who cared about wealth and placing value on material-It wasn't in his nature to place wealth above a personality. He was a person who cared about the inner strength of something, the quality of a piece, of people, of beauty, which was why his small cramped apartment-the apartment of a single young man living more for art than to eat-was full of strange and different things. Nothing matched. Nothing made sense.

Everything, Daisuke believed, had its own beauty. He was a collector of simple things, different things, strange things that called to him without words. He was an artist.

This mirror, tarnished and faded, spotted with age and grime, creaking and slightly wobbly, was beautiful.

He had to have it.

"Can I help you?" a dour and annoyed voice said off to his right.

"Huh? Oh…" Mildly alarmed, Daisuke turned his head, tried to smile charmingly. A young man, sleep-ruffled hair, glasses and reserved expression on his face stood there in tidy but simple clothing. Daisuke dropped his hand from the mirror's surface, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "Hi! I-um, it was raining really bad outside, and I didn't have an umbrella-you don't mind, do you? I mean, I'll go if you're closed or something-"

"No, we're not closed. Is there something I can do…?" the young man regarded him with a raised brow and a waiting expression. If Daisuke didn't know better, he would have said that the man was irritated by his appearance, by his closeness to the mirror.

"Yeah, actually," Daisuke grinned again, and gestured to the mirror. "How much is this? It's for sale, right?"

A strange hardened smile bloomed on the young man's face. "The mirror? So…you're interested in this? You want to take this home? Perhaps put it in your bedroom and pose in front of it?"

Daisuke shrugged, uncertainly, but resigned himself to giving the older man a strange wary glance. "Eh…" ~What a weirdo!~ he thought. "It's just…I've never seen anything like this. It's like it called me-I'd really like to have it."

The young man smiled at him again, somehow sadder and more resigned. Perhaps he was pleased at his answer. It was probably a test of some sorts.

"Called you, eh?" The store owner shook his head. "I'm not surprised. Forgive me for the earlier comment, but you see…I had to make sure you would purchase for the right reasons…That mirror…" He paused, stepped up close to Daisuke and reached past him to trace a finger down the edge of a scrolled and blackened silver vine. "It's very old. Very strange, this one…"

The mirror seemed to disapprove of the words, the reflected light dimming slightly-//…not funny//

Daisuke blinked, not sure he had heard the whisper on the edge of his senses again. He strained his hearing, wondering if there was someone else in the room, and glanced at the young man. This close he could tell that the rumpled hair was a dark black, almost blue in the right light. His eyes behind the glasses were sad, a washed-away indigo that seemed to be old for his young face.

"Mirrors remember, you know. They remember the things that were shown to them, hold secrets and pasts and, sometimes, show you what waits for you. Some even say they are doorways to the past…or somewhere even worse."

"That's…creepy," Daisuke shivered. "…I wonder if that's true with painting…that's just…" He shivered again, blushed and scrubbed a hand through his hair again, realizing he had been inadvertently calling the man creepy. "Ah, sorry-"

The man laughed softly. "Creepy. That's a perfect word for this, you know. A creepy mirror with its own mind…" He paused, dropped his hand from the mirror-Daisuke would swear later that something whispered again, a muttering of sorts-but the young man was reaching out his hand for Daisuke to take. "I am Ichijouji Osamu. You are?"

"Motomiya Daisuke," the redhead grinned, and shook his hand firmly. "So I can take it home?"

Osamu smiled again, filled with that peculiar sadness, and nodded. "Let's draw up the paperwork, shall we?"

~=~

It was a few days before Daisuke managed to scrounge up enough cash to pay Osamu completely, as well as sign his name to a warranty that if it should ever break, he'd bring all the pieces of broken glass if possible, as well as the frame of the mirror itself for 'restoration.' During the few days he was waiting Daisuke walked around in a daze, oddly happy and euphoric with his purchase, even though he hadn't even seen it since.

He walked into the store in the afternoon, blinking in the semi-darkness until his eyes adjusted. "Hey!" he called, and proceeded to walk towards the back again. "Hey Osamu, are you in?"

"I'll be right there!" the man called out. "I'm taking a call-go ahead, the mirror is waiting!"

Daisuke grinned, skirting boxes and shelves until he stood in front of the mirror again. Like before, it was covered, probably to keep the dust away. "Hello," he greeted softly, running fingers over the covered carving of silver.

He wasn't as surprised this time to hear the sub-whisper, a soft barely heard sound, like someone was standing behind him, whispering into his ear. Perhaps he imagined it, or it was a voice in his head that he hadn't met before, but he was sure that someone, even if it was only him, had responded. Either that or the paint fumes had started to affect him worse than he thought.

//Hello…//

He smiled faintly, brushing fingertips against the cloth-covering, and wondered. ~Mirrors remember, eh? Wonder what else they're capable of…~

"You're ready to go?" Osamu said, smiling quicker now that he was assured of Daisuke's intention of treasuring the mirror. Daisuke got the feeling that the other man regarded the mirror as something special.

It was, Daisuke agreed. It was very special-something told him this, as he stood there, a palm pressed to the covered glass and a faint smile on his face. "I am," he said after a moment. Osamu clapped him on the shoulder, favoring him with a smile, that odd look in his eyes again, and Daisuke knew it was time.

It didn't take very long for Daisuke to sign the last sheet of paperwork, clasp hands with Osamu again, and heft the frame of the mirror in his hands. Osamu followed him to the door, silent until Daisuke stood in sunlight and placed the mirror on the pavement.

"I guess this is it," Daisuke said softly.

Osamu reached a hand to the mirror, tracing it with that faded look of heartrending sorrow flickering in his eyes. "Goodbye, then…"

Then he turned to Daisuke. "The mirror has a secret," Osamu said simply, his eyes shadowed behind the glasses. "I hope to see you again when you discover it." Then he grinned mysteriously, and vanished into the gloom of his shop. The bell over the door tinkled softly, and Daisuke was left standing alone but for a mirror.

~A secret…why am I not surprised…I bet it has something to do with 'remembering,' or something like that…or whatever sounds like voices that I keep hearing…~

But then again, hearing voices was the least of his worries.

~=~

That evening, after he had carted it home, carefully wrapped and secured upon his back, after he had set it up against the wall in his room, framing it with boxes and unused canvases and paint supplies, after he had wandered in and out several times, he heard the faint whisper of sound.

//What are you doing?//

He barely noticed, wandering in from his living room, absently nibbling on the brush in his hand, the other clutching a sketchbook, and made his way to a half-full box of paints. He spent a few minutes, his mind dismissing the sound as something else in his focus, most likely other students from the university, and bent his will on the current task of find just the right shade of blue to use.

As he left the room, the brush now clenched between his teeth as his hands were occupied with carrying the box, he failed to see the mirror glimmer, and the image of a young man just past the start of adulthood appear, watching him with interest.

~=~

Days passed. Daisuke, after asking several antique dealers about cleaning and restoring old silver, proceeded to find several small brushes, a toothbrush, and rags. It took him nearly a week of careful and delicate applications of different cleansers, polishing and removing the tarnish from the smallest curls of metal.

On the last day, with sunlight flooding the room and the smell of the summer floating in through the open window, he stood back, clad in nothing but ragged jeans, and examined the mirror. It gleamed warmly in the light, glinting with radiance and a solemn beauty. The surface of the glass was freshly cleaned, reflecting true.

Daisuke saw himself standing, arms akimbo and a hesitant waiting expression. He caught himself at that, wondering why he was so obviously waiting for some form of approval from the mirror-it wasn't alive. It didn't breath, didn't move or any such thing.

~Except that sometimes I swear it whispers,~ he thought with a small smile. It would just be his luck that he ended up with a haunted mirror. Shaking his head, he couldn't resist winking at the mirror in impulse. "Don't you look beautiful," he said, and laughed.

"Ugh," he said a moment later, noticing his dark-stained hands. "Shower…" He walked out of the room, unfastening his jeans as he went through the door with only the faintest of shyness. ~Yeah, right, like it's watching…I wonder where that idea came from…You're going nuts, Motomiya.~

//Beautiful?// whispered the mirror. It seemed to contemplate this, the surface shimmering again as Daisuke vanished from view. The young man glimmered into view again, a puzzled look in his eyes and a faint tinge in his cheeks as he pressed palms to the glass, longish black hair fanning out ethereally, his indigo eyes lidded. He pursed his lips, frowning faintly, worried and silent.

//What a strange boy I have found myself with…//

//Osamu…what have you gotten me into?//

~=~

It wasn't difficult for Daisuke to begin to believe that something possessed his mirror during the next few weeks. Sounds of faint laughter, sounds that he passed off as other people walking through the halls, sounds that he wasn't sure if he was hearing or not. In fact, they sounded oddly familiar, as if he was thinking in a different way.

Perhaps they were only sounds. Perhaps more.

One night he fell heavily and almost mindlessly into bed, his arms tinged with various smears of paint, his body exhausted and his mind pleasantly drained, barely acknowledging the soft murmured question. He kicked off his pants, sprawled himself out upon the sheets on his stomach and mumbled, "I don't know…I'm tired…"

He was asleep in moments, while the boy in the mirror, shimmering into faded view, looked frustrated.

//Idiot…how am I supposed to talk to you if you won't listen?//

Then, after a moment of thought and listening to the faint snores, the other boy vanished from view.

~=~

He dreamed that night, falling into a formless state that felt suspiciously like floating. A voice was whispering to him, as he lay there dreaming about sleeping when he actually was, and frowned his annoyance.

In his dream, shimmering threads of green and blue wove in imperceptible patterns around him, weaving together until a general human shape was formed, floating as gently as he was and watching him with vivid indigo eyes. As they fastened upon him, regarding him with obvious surprise, a hand-shaped appendage stretched towards him as curiously.

Daisuke blinked, feeling slow and mildly amused. A boy made of light was watching him…how interesting.

//What are you doing here?// the glimmering creation whispered to him.

Daisuke felt that it was oddly familiar, as though he had heard it before and had forgotten until now. He twisted, looking down at himself to see his usual jeans and ragged tank, his smeared arms. "I'm-" his voice echoed strangely, muffled and flat while the shifting darkness morphed into a gray poorly shaped room, lopsided and off-angled. He shrugged, putting it up to the power that dreams contain sometimes, and finished his sentence. "I'm Daisuke," he said awkwardly, and looked up-

He found himself seated under a sky filled with thousands of needle-point stars, all glimmering faintly and the smell of spring flowers and rain thick on the air. "Whoa," he said faintly. He looked around with a faint sensation of disbelief, taking in the soft dew-wet grass, the outline of trees not so far away, and the distinctly muffled way he felt-as if looking or moving through water.

Someone was singing, softly, the words to a song that sounded achingly sad. Only a few snatches of the words met his ears, and he struggled to hear as much as possible.

"… worlds have died…breaking"

"...into pieces, still... unshaken."

"Songs…I watched…too far,"

"far from…you…so… it hurts…."

He turned his head at the sound of the low voice, amused and shy all at once. "Um…hello?"

He couldn't see anyone, he noted, a tangled skein of confusion and dreadful anticipation skittering through him as the singing continued undeterred. With the shifting way that dreams have, Daisuke found himself walking, his feet getting damp and cold from the grass, head tilted to the side to pick up the traces of music. The song was the result of ethereal tones out of a thin and vibrant voice, crystal clear and pitched higher than his-as it dipped he took a measure and found it pleasantly modulated, warm before spinning off into the next indiscernible intonation.

He found himself standing on the edge of a pathway that wound up and around the narrow cliffs of jagged gray-black stone. Water surged in white foamy curds against the half-submerged rocks, splashing higher than three feet and sending spume soaring in glistening drops. Daisuke felt his feet get wet, suddenly, realizing he was on the sand of a silvery-lit beach. He looked up and saw the low gleaming moon, felt oddly cool rays against his face. He had the thought that the moon was as cool as the sun was warm, and smiled. The moonlight painted everything with a silver coating, the same color as the swirled metal of his mirror. Everything was silver-tinted; his skin, the sand under his feet, the water as it moved and the rocks as they glistened.

Daisuke raised his eyes to the cliff, his feet upon the path leading upwards, and focused on the singing, feeling as if the singing was moonlight in woven words. ~I need to be up there,~ he thought, feeling a jolt of fear and a sense of vertigo at the mere thought. The singing echoed, thrumming along his veins and into his mind, pulsing with his heart and thoughts.

He took a step forward-

Daisuke found himself standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down into the black and silver-laced water, feeling the bite of the wind and sharp smell of the earthy grass, the sea below him. He inhaled sharply, knowing he should have been scared, fearing he would fall and forgetting that when the soft singing continued, now that he was close enough to hear the rest of the words.

"Worlds have been made and lost, now, while I loved you

"Still loving, still close, still broken, I wait…"

"I am here now, and waiting for you and singing, I listen and I love-"

Daisuke turned, feeling the grit of the stones and the blades of grass beneath his feet, feeling as if he moved slowly. Perhaps he did, the next line was floating out over the air, liquid moonlight that spun itself from the lips of a boy seated with eyes closed, hands in his lap and dressed in oddly formal clothing. Trousers of some indiscernible material and dark shade covered his legs; a tight white shirt, brilliant in the moonlight, peeked out from gap of a dark-colored jacket. Silver glinted in the buttons and straps as the boy swayed slightly, longish dark hair falling into his face, his mouth falling open slowly. He looked almost…fey.

"But you, dear heart, aren't coming…but I wait."

"Still waiting, still loving, still near to you, I sing-"

Daisuke inhaled softly-

-The boy opened his eyes to meet his, startled, the song broken-

-And Daisuke woke from the dream with a gasp, his heart pounding strangely, finding himself upright in bed with no memory of lunging up. He hunched, shivering suddenly as the whispers of that song ghosted through his head again, and started down at his hands fisting tightly in the sheets. The scent of the summer air sharpened into something else, for a moment, and he could have sworn he saw the silvery glint of that eldritch light.

~What the hell was that?~ came his stunned and not-so-awake thought, as he rubbed briskly at his face. "What the hell?!" he repeated out loud.

Behind his shoulder, the mirror glimmered once, the image of the boy-the same boy from the dream although Daisuke could not know of this yet-appeared within it. His clothing had changed to simple tunic-style shirt, laced and open down the sides, with breeches that ended at the knee and bare feet. The boy looked as stunned as Daisuke felt, his eyes wide in the darkness and his hands fidgeting uselessly.

//You…// he said too quietly for Daisuke to hear, pain flickering across his face. A palm curled up to flatten against the glass as he watched Daisuke sit shaking, confused and bewildered. //How…what have you done?//

~=~

Several weeks passed from start of the original dream, and Daisuke had pretty much grown accustomed the sounds and murmurs he couldn't quite hear. He noticed, freaked out over, and slowly adapted to the slight changes he began to notice to his rooms, to his life, and-mainly-to the way his dreams had shifted into something slightly stranger.

He kept dreaming the sequence on the cliff. He knew it so well he could do the exact same movements and questions without even trying-and yet, at the same time, subtle differences were noted. For instance-sometimes the moon was full, other nights it lent a half-light from a waning curl of brilliance. One night the grass would be damp and cling to his bare feet-then dry the next. The waves were alternately higher, or lower, depending on the dream-tide. He noticed flowers one night, a pale version of lavender, etched in silver glimmer from the above source of light.

But he had never heard the song again, not after the first night. He never saw that excruciatingly lovely boy after the first night.

He was beginning to suspect something wasn't quite right anymore.

Waking up in a sweat, gasping, was beginning to become normal for him. He had done it so often now that he couldn't count the times he had just remained sitting, staring at his loosely clasped hands and thinking. He couldn't count the number of times those eyes, painted with a coat of quicksilver, haunted him. He couldn't count how many times he paused in the middle of his work, or painting, to stop and stare blindly while his mind ran down countless avenues of thought centered on just who this other boy was.

Who, and why exactly he had begun haunting his dreams.

Out of habit, more asleep than awake, Daisuke glanced at the small luminescent clock kept on his nightstand, noted the time and groaned. "Who gets up at 6:30? Dammit…" He fell upon his back, stuffing the pillow over his face, and slipped into a semi-doze.

//I did, sometimes.//

"So?" Daisuke mumbled. "You're just a voice…"

//Am I?//

"I'm going insane," Daisuke moaned. "Talking back to the voices…I should be locked away by now" The whisper of laughter was all he heard. ~Fitting,~ he thought. ~I'm insane and haunted…~ "I bet you're some freaky paint-fume version of LSD…"

//No…I am real…to you, at least. //

"Huh…um, that made no sense…" Despite the inane situation, Daisuke felt a trickle of fear thread its way through him. "Are you a ghost?"

//Of sorts…// Now it sounded hesitant. //But not really. //

"So what are you then?"

The voice was faded. //…I'm trapped…//

It was then, sprawled upon his bed and wondering at the strange words that the first ties to the dreams and the mirror were forged.

~=~

"Dude, I'm serious-I have a haunted mirror!"

His statement, having been greeted with hilarity, merely caused a fresh round of laughter. Scowling, Daisuke slouched in his seat and crossed his arms.

Miyako was the first to speak, holding her middle. "Haunted? As in possessed?" she snickered, voice shrill. "You've lost it, Daisuke-you've really gone insane…"

"I'm not joking," Daisuke muttered sullenly.

"Yeah, but a haunted mirror? Come on-that's so cliché."

"But I keep hearing things…and seeing stuff…I've had stuff move in my place, guys. And I'm not crazy!-" Daisuke hunched his shoulders and shot a dark look in the laughing Takeru's direction. "-so don't even go there-I'm telling you I've got a mirror with someone's soul inside!"

It didn't seem to faze Takeru-they still laughed, albeit more quietly, but still Daisuke looked at each of them. He saw Takeru hiding his grin and failing; Miyako laughing until the tears stood gleaming on her cheeks. Thank god Kari and Iori weren't here-he wasn't sure he could handle more than two people laughing at him.

Finally, Miyako sat back with that large grin on her face and brushed away the moisture. "Man, that's really creepy-" she giggled again. "Just think-"

"-always watched-" Takeru chimed in.

"-always there-" she followed instantly.

"Seeing you naked-" Takeru winked at Miyako.

"-Or whatever else you do alone-"

"Oh, fun-ny," Daisuke glared through a rising blush. "Forget I even said anything, okay?" They started laughing again, as Daisuke stormed up from the table and away from the park itself.

~I'll show them,~ he thought furiously. ~I'll prove it, somehow!~