( to be quite blunt about it, Will's words leave Ben looking as though he's seen a ghost, rather than a familiar face. momentarily, Ben's pulse skips up so fast, it feels as though reality dilates around them. Ben simultaneously goes obscenely expressive, and still. he can't tell if he's been caught, or if his entire life is one big joke.

it's...usually a joke.

literally, genuinely, the only thing here that saves Ben's dignity is — being struck with the boomerang awareness when it finally occurs to him, that he heard Will speak through the mirror.

Ben rushes up to the mirror, pulled over to sit on his legs, shifting the pane of glass in his hands by its dull frame, leaning in as if to share a secret. his eyes move animatedly over the mirror, over Will's face, incredulous. )

I can hear you— you can hear me. ( manifesting the revelations, cementing them. they can communicate like this; Ben trails blunt fingertips over the cracks like thin veins in the mirror's face, which drift from Will's shoulder, and up, and away. ) I'd love to say we finally found the happy medium... ( haha, get it? medium? it's— really not the time for that. )

But...I think I'm trapped in here. ( Ben doesn't know how he ended up here, and as he scans the room from over his shoulder one more time, he verifies to himself that there is certainly no door, no window, not even a tacky little cinematic air duct. he can't decide if he's relieved for that, or not. ) —What about you?