[ Ben reaches out, in a movement Will's seen him take before — to write his name and simplified questions on a mirror — and Will stared at the points where their fingertips line up. It feels significant, it feels like this is right, and it gives Will an odd thrill to see their postures starting to mimic what a real mirror would show Will right now—

Nothing happens. The teacup, already shattered, doesn't pull itself together. But...no. Will feels an ache from inside himself, or— from the mirror itself? Will's mouth is open in a wordless question for several long seconds, staring down at their hands, before he finally looks back up at Ben. ]

Fuse itself? Or fuse the world it's in? The skies are each half of a whole that never shifts... [ Will's sky and Ben's sky; always different, even after they'd switched. Will swallows and then his expression finally creases into pointed confusion, a sort of aching curiosity. ]

Does it feel...like you don't want to pull your hand away? Like you shouldn't want to pull your hand away?