prologue - lost at sea
A rectangle of light flooded onto the soft blue carpet as the door to the room was opened. Flecks of disturbed dust swam through the light before settling contently on whatever objects they fell on, adding to the thick layer already there that had accumulated over the years.
The light was temporarily blocked out by a figure, black against the brightness of the corridor, before the person stepped inside and shut the door after him. Fingers blindly reached out in search of the light switch and upon finding it the room was dimly lit up by the age old bulb.
Tino Väinämöinen- the human personification of the Republic of Finland- stood under the overhead light, his fingers still lingering on the switch. His dim blue eyes slowly drifted around the room, his expression soft yet sad. He wet his lips slightly before walking over to the bed and running his fingers along the smooth pine frame. The covers were made, decorated with an ocean theme, similar to the rest of the room. Pictures of ships lined the pale blue walls, an array of toy cars and boats sat with a layer of dust on the windowsill in front of thick curtains that skilfully blocked out the light. A night lamp filled with an array of plastic fish sat on the night stand and cartoon sea creatures were plastered all over the tall wardrobe. A blue beanbag sat in one corner, the middle of which had been pressed down from someone sitting in it so many times. A stack of books accompanied the beanbag as well as a dozen or so stuffed toys and figurines. Tino's eyes passed over all of these fondly as he remembered the little boy that used to live in this room, in this house, the one place where he could without hesitation call home.
The Finn swallowed thickly before lowering himself onto the bed, feeling the soft mattress and running his hands comfortingly over the dense fabric of the duvet. It had been years since he'd set foot in this room and just by looking at each object brought back floods of memories- of times where everything was peaceful and happy. Tino's hand brushed against something soft and he looked down in surprise. Half buried in the down pillow was a stuffed toy dolphin, it's fins frayed and colour musty after having been played with and discarded so much. With trembling fingers Tino picked up the dolphin and run his hand over its synthetic fur. He remembered the day they had bought this for him as clearly as though it were yesterday. It had been just before he had arrived in Sweden and Tino and his husband, Berwald- the human personification of the Kingdom of Sweden- had been fussing over which toys to get for him. Berwald had been the one to suggest something to do with the sea, which when Tino thought about it was quite fitting, and when this small dolphin had caught his eye he didn't hesitate in adding it to the shopping trolley.
Of course, he had loved it. The boy took it to bed with him and persistently carried it around the house, telling them that he had decided to name it "Bluey" after it's colour. Tino and Berwald had exchanged amused glances before telling him that he was very creative indeed and ruffling his hair. Then after that they had gone for a long walk with their little white dog- Hanatamago- and Peter had-
Tino's grip tightened on the dolphin. He had said his name. He had said his name without meaning to. It wasn't that the name was forbidden or looked down upon, it was just the feelings that came with it. Peter... Before the Finn knew it tears were burning his eyes and creating long, slick paths down his pale cheeks.
Peter...
The small, cheerful, loveable boy that had resided in this room. The small, cheerful, loveable boy that they had adopted and taken care of. The small, cheerful, loveable boy that they had welcomed into their family, loved and were loved by him in return. The small, cheerful, loveable boy who Tino hoped to think was just lost at sea and would one day return home.
"Peter..." Tino said, out loud this time, his voice quiet and strained. With a half-stifled sob he buried his face into the dolphin's fur, the scent of it's former owner long since gone. He couldn't stop the tears when they fell now- from just saying his name it was like an old, barely healed wound had been opened.
He crushed the dolphin against his chest and fell back onto the bed, the sobs now viciously racking through his fragile body and making him shiver and tremble. He was in the same position when Berwald found him after coming back nearly three hours later, crying for the boy who had long since disappeared after visiting the Principality of Sealand that the very same night was torn apart by a freak storm.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia, or any of its characters. I do own this story however, which is copyrighted to me.