Cole (Three Years Ago)

In another world, he never managed to do the Triple Tiger Sashay well enough on his entrance exams and ran away instead of facing the disappointment of his father.

This wasn't that world.

Cole did the Triple Tiger Sashay perfectly and got in the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts with flying colours. Nobody laughed at him when he failed to do the ridiculously difficult dance move, but instead, were silenced when they saw the seven-year-old do it flawlessly.

And so, he stayed.

He stayed there for six years, ignored by his father, but praised by his teachers and classmates over the years he went there.

Never by his father, though. He was too busy with his band. Too busy with work. Too busy to see his only son.

Too freaking busy to spend time with Cole, who just wanted to be accepted by his father.

That was literally the only reason he went to the stupid school.

Not for himself, for his father.

He finally had enough when he practiced for months. Stretched, danced, and trained for months. He practiced his dance moves until he could do them in his sleep.

He kept training. Over and over. If it wasn't perfect, it wasn't good enough.

His body didn't hurt anymore after his daily training. That, or he was already so used to it, he couldn't feel the pain anymore.

Then the big day came.

It was flawless. His father was there. He did everything according to the book.

He went to his father to ask him what he thought of his performance, only to hear his father tell him how his movements were tight, stocky, and not quite the way the dance was supposed to be.

He snapped at his father, who told his friends that Cole was just being a teenager and that they shouldn't mind him.

"How would you know?!" Cole argued. "You haven't even acknowledged my existence in six years! You have no idea what I'm like!"

That was the first time Cole could remember arguing with his father.

When he went up to his room, which he shared with some weird kid he never paid any attention to anyways.

"Whoa, man. Cool contacts," the kid exclaimed when Cole walked in. "Did you get them for your show?"

"What are you talking about?" Cole asked, taking off his off his glittery costume (he was going to find glitter everywhere for the next few years, Cole just knew) to put on his pyjamas. "I'm not wearing any contacts."

The guy laughed. "Whoa man! That's a good one! You almost got me!"

Cole shook his head. As previously mentioned, the kid was weird. Very weird.

He went to the bathroom, where he took a shower (he was all sweaty from the recital) before brushing his teeth to find that yes, his eyes did in fact turn purple. The weird kid was right.

He was wondering when exactly it happened, when his pyjamas turned into his costume from that night's performance, which didn't seem quite right. The costume was still in the bag when Cole checked to look and see.

It was okay.

He was just imagining things. If he were to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and open them again, Cole would be wearing his pyjamas, just like he has been since he got dressed.

Turns out, he was right.

But his eyes were still purple. Maybe he did put in contacts, and just forgot about them.

Nope.

He wasn't wearing contacts. He just poked his finger in his eye, to find that he wasn't wearing any contact lenses as he thought.

But his eyes were back to their normal colour. Maybe he was just imagining things.

When he was back in his room again, his roommate was sleeping, so Cole couldn't ask him if his eyes had really been purple.

He flopped down on his bed.

Something wasn't right.

His arms and his legs were too long, his clothes were too big and his bed was too small.

Cole sat up in his bed to try and figure out what exactly had happened.

He looked down at his hands.

They were purple.

Then they weren't.

Flashing between colours like a light on a Christmas tree, flickering…

And his skin was back to its normal colour.

He needed to get out.

He needed to think.

No, he needed to get out of there.

He never even wanted to become a dancer like his father insisted. He wanted to do other things, like see the world, maybe try some new things along the way…

Things he always wanted to do, but never could, because he was stuck in this ridiculous excuse for a school.

He found his suitcase, stuffed everything he owned in it, and left through the back door, still wearing his pyjamas and his slippers, which were gradually turning into regular, day-to-day clothes as he left.

He had enough. He wasn't ever coming back.

He pushed and strained himself for months to try and get his father's acceptance, only for the man to tell him that he wasn't even good enough.

He didn't stop running until the school was a tiny little speck in the distance.

He was leaving behind all of his friends, his father and all of the teachers who ever cared about him.

Which meant that he was leaving behind exactly nine people. Two, not counting the teachers.

It was finally over.

He could finally do the things he wanted to.

And the first thing was: climb the tree in front of him.

He didn't climb a tree since he was very young. He has been on the run for a week now, and he still didn't do anything exciting.

The tree looked pretty exciting, so he would climb it.

He put his suitcase down and grabbed the tree firmly by the lowest branch.

The branch was, unfortunately, too thin to hold him and broke.

"You are harming the tree," a voice said behind him, causing Cole to squeak and drop the branch he was holding.

When he turned around, there was a boy of about sixteen, with dark blond hair and furious (almost glowing) green eyes staring at him.

"I'm so sorry," Cole told the guy. "It's just, I wanted to climb it, and I didn't know the branch would break and…"

"Do you know who I am?" the stanger asked.

Cole turned pale.

The other guy reached his hand out for Cole to take. "I'm Zane. Do you know that name?"

Zane seemed almost hopeful, but he lost that look in his eyes when he noticed that Cole's eyes held no recognition.

"I'm Cole, and sorry about the tree," Cole told the strange boy as he shook his hand. "I didn't know that..."

Zane let go of Cole and went over to softly pet the bark of the tree. "It's okay. You will be fine. This will be just like before, it will not hurt."

Cole wanted to laugh at the strange guy who was talking to the tree, but the branch that Cole accidently broke off grew back like it was nothing. It was so freaky.

Zane picked up the branch which Cole dropped and planted it a few feet away from the first tree, where it became another tree, just a little smaller.

Then Zane turned his attention to Cole.

Cole backed away slowly, not sure what to do about this seemingly magical person who might attack him for hurting one of his trees.

"So you don't know who I am?" Zane asked, disappointment lacing his voice. "I was hoping that maybe you did…"

Zane sat down with a loud, disappointed sigh.

"I'm sorry," Cole told the stranger. "I wish I could help, but…"

"I can't remember anything other than my name," Zane told Cole, waving his hand around a little, which caused a flower to peek out from the dirt. "I woke up out here, and can't remember anything."

"It's okay," Cole told the guy. "You can come with me."

Cole had no idea what possessed him say that.

"Thank you, Cole," Zane mumbled as he stood up. "I'd like that."


And that's how Cole and Zane met.

In this AU, Cole went to the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts until he ran away at thirteen. He first thought his powers manifesting was because of stress-induced hallucinations, and yes, he thought Zane was magic.

Thank you for reading this, and please comment!