Aaron T x Aaron Z| Oneshots

My Enemy

Word Count: 1037

Aaron Z

At the New York Academy of Dance, competition was what kept everyone motivated. Everyone at school wanted to be the best- and for a good reason, too. At the end of the year, the top five dancers got to immediately start work at one of the selected top studios. And if the deans decide that no one is worthy, not a single student got the job.

So, yeah, NYAD was competitive. But luckily for me, I love a little competition. My best friend, Robaire, and I had known each other since high school. Six years later, in our senior year at NYAD, we just knew that we'd be in the top five students- that is until he came.

I didn't know where he came from or what exactly he wanted, but I knew he was good. Aaron Tabarez was in his first year at NYAD, but he was a second-year student. I didn't know what school he went to before, or how he'd managed to get into NYAD, but everything about him made my skin crawl. Even his name made me mad!

He always had too much energy and he was kind to everyone. He radiated humble confidence and did his best to be helpful to the other students. What I hated most about him was that he looked down on me. He flashed me mocking smiles and asked me if I had any advice for him.

He majored in contemporary dance and minored in ballet like me, so we spent most of our time in the same studios.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's being genuine?" Robaire asked me. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, flashing the other Aaron an annoyed look. Only moments before, he waved me good morning and gave me a water bottle. It was obvious that he was mocking me.

"Like hell, he is," I spat, tossing the bottle of water into the trash. Robaire folded his arms.

"You need to be seriously humbled," my friend said to me.

"What?" I demanded. "Whose side are you on? He's clearly trying to get under my skin!"

Robaire laughed and the sound echoed through the dance studio. A few other students turned to give us annoyed glances but I ignored them.

"The poor guy just wants to be your friend," he tried to reason. I didn't know what was more shocking- Robaire taking the stupid first year's side or the fact that he might have been right. Either way, I didn't like the words that left his mouth and I wished that he'd just shut up. I fell silent as the dance instructor entered the room and everyone in the classroom fell into a line to greet him.

As if I couldn't get any more annoyed, Aaron number 2 managed to push me farther over the edge. He stood next to me. I took one glance at his cap, which he wore backward, and it was all I could do to resist yanking it off and stomping at it.

I resisted, though, finding satisfaction in the idea of the Instructor punishing Aaron for being rude. I hated Aaron number 2, yes, but I hated the Instructor more for too many reasons to count.

"Who does this guy think he is?" I mumbled to myself, and the boy turned to me with a mischievous grin. I cursed under my breath, regretting that I spoke at all.

"Right?" He whispered. His words caught me off guard. Who did he think I was talking about? "He's such a hypocrite. Yesterday, he got mad at me for eating before practice but I saw him doing the same thing a minute before."

The instructor turned to both of us and shot us a firey scowl. It sent shivers down my spine but Aaron T only giggled.

"Is there something you find funny, Mr. Tabarez?" The instructor demanded. The second Aaron only bit his lip to stifle his grin. The instructor practically stomped over, his wrinkly hand catching hold of the cuff of Aaron's shirt.

His grin didn't fade.

"Why don't you tell everyone whatever it was that the two of you... men were whispering about?" I went still but Aaron remained completely at ease. He gently took the teacher's hand and pulled it off of him.

"I just find it funny how everyone else here was talking but you got mad at both of us for talking," He said, pausing to glance at me. When the Instructor didn't reply, Aaron continued. "Which, coincidentally, it seems that we're the only people of color here... other than Robaire and Alex, there, but he's only half Italian. Does that even count-?"

"Quiet!" The instructor shouted, and for a slight moment, Aaron flinched. Just as I saw the instructor's hand raise, I shifted to step in front of Aaron before his hand could make contact with his skin. I didn't like how easily I disregard my own safety for his sake.

The instructor slowly let his hand fall to his side. He mumbled a few unprintable words before curling his hands into fists and stalking away. Aaron's lips slowly spread into a smile.

"Racially motivated?" Aaron leaned in to ask me. I turned away from him and chewed on my bottom lip, wondering what had come over me.

I hated Aaron, yes, but I hated the Instructor more. That didn't mean I had to protect Aaron, though. I glanced at the boy who had already turned and started to talk to another student as if nothing had happened at all.

How could I have possibly hated him? Why did I feel like I hated him more and less at the same time? I felt a familiar hand rest on my shoulder and turned to see my best friend looking at me, his lips drawn together in a thin line.

"Give him a chance," he said to me. I looked back at Aaron, my gaze finding his. He shot me a triumphant smile, and I can't help but return it.

"I bet you wish you didn't throw that bottle of water out now, huh?" Robaire asked me, a smug smile finding its way to his face.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped and Robaire let out another laugh.