1912 London, England

The boy sat on the roof of a house across a large clock tower. He wrapped his brown cloak around him. He hugged his knees a bit tighter as he watched the snow fall over the sleeping town of London. He looked up when he heard a sound from around the corner, his white hair barely tipping over his eyes. But no one was there. He felt tears forming behind his eyes.

What would it matter if anyone was there?

He narrowed his blue eyes and buried his face in the long, puffy sleeves of his white shirt. "No one's ever there..." 

"That's not true. I'm here."

The boy's head snapped up at another boy, wearing a green shirt and hat with a red feather. He was hovering perfectly in front of the boy. The boy in the green shirt tilted his head at the colonial boy.

He raised a brow. "Hey, why are you crying?"

The white-haired boy wiped his face. "I'm not crying."

The red haired boy laughed. "You're lying." He laughed harder.

The white-haired boy looked back at the flying boy. "Wait. You can see me?"

"Of course I can see you. You're right here, aren't you?" His smile was wided.

The white-haired boy stood up, holding his staff. He sniffled a bit and nodded, smiling at the other boy. "Do you feel any different after seeing me or anything?"

The other boy laughed. "Well, you're making me laughing. You're pretty funny."

The white-haired boy's eyes lowered.

The other boy took a good look at the white-haired boy. He scratched his head beneath his green cap and crossed his arms. "You looked different from the other people here look like. Say, you're not from here are you?" He circled the white-haired boy, his feet never touching the roof.

The boy shook his head.

The red-haired boy smiled. "Well, my name's Peter, Peter Pan."

The white haired boy grinned. "My name is Jack Frost." He looked at the roof below Peter's feet. "So you can fly."

Peter nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm the best flyer ever." He rapidly flew in a circle around Jack.

Jack smirked. "Best flyer ever?"