A/N: Oh, small word count, how you hurt me so. This is just kind of a prologue to what I am planning on writing. I want to see if there is anyone interested in me going on with this. I mean, I already have the first nine or so chapters planned out (so you can expect this to go on for a while yet if anyone's interested in it). Updates will probably come somewhat slow; maybe one chapter every 2-3 weeks or so depending on how much time I get. I am a very busy lady when tumblr isn't hogging up my ability to think correctly. Heh. Also, future chapters are guaranteed to be a lot longer.

Warnings for future chapters: Will most definitely contain yaoi, but it will not define the story, seeing as how it's not PWP, and indeed has a rather large amount of plot. Also, side yuri and some hetero junk thrown in just for shits and giggles. Main pairing is USUKUS, but I also have SeychellesxMonaco and RussPruss planned, as well as at least two I won't mention for spoiler-type purposes. Mental battles of sexuality will be a constant. Talk of death/drowning. Nyotalia. Gay-bashing. Angst. Nothing in the contents of this story is meant to offend, so I apologize in advance if it does get offensive or hurts anyone. Here, have a band aid for your booboo before I even cause it. *hands out free band aids* Everything is subject to change and the ending is quite possibly not going to be a happy one. Although I am not 100% sure yet of how I want the later parts of this story to go. Maybe I'll be merciful, and decide to give you all a happy ending.

Long A/N is long. Sorry. I promise shorter ones in the future. Scout's honor.

He was in the water again, encapsulated by the feeling of drowning and sudden death. Swimming was never a strong suit of his, but still it didn't take him long to reach the top of the water. About to breach the surface, he'd been hit by the frigid chill of the ice that covered the entire immediate area. No matter how far away he swam, there was always the ice. It was as if it chased his being through the murky water.

He'd pounded on the ice, flipped over and kicked at it and tried to will it away, but it was always there. It wouldn't shatter and refused go away. With the imminence of his demise strong in his mind, Arthur Kirkland came to accept that he'd not make it out alive.

That was when he noticed the most awe-inspiring rainbow he'd ever laid eyes on, hanging in the misty sky above the ice. In his muted panic, he mused to himself as to whether he'd actually be able to feel the rainbow if he reached out to touch it, seeing as it was just a spectrum of light across the sky; the sun's rays refracting on droplets of water in the atmosphere. In that moment, he gasped harshly and sucked in the saltwater, allowing the feeling of fire to incapacitate his lungs in the process. This was the end.

Arthur bolted upright out of bed in that moment, gasping for air and in the midst of a cold sweat. He'd grown used to the nightmare that plagued his dreams every night for the last three months, but he would never grow used to the panic attacks it brought on. His doctor has prescribed him pills to take before bed so that he'd no longer dream. He hadn't had the heart to tell Dr. Honda that they had stopped working after the first week.

Sighing, Arthur pulled himself out of bed, haphazardly shoving his feet into soft blue slippers and walked to his sparsely decorated kitchen. Looking at the analog clock above the sink while filling up a glass with tap water told him that the time was 4:57 am. Just over one more hour and he would have slept through the entire night without dreaming. He leaned over the countertop and ran a hand through his bedhead, taking ragged breaths and trying unsuccessfully to calm himself down. He quickly knocked back the remnants of his glass and set it in the sink to take care of at a later time. For now, he'd take a shower and get ready for the work day ahead of him.

Satisfied with the clothing he'd tossed on, he wrapped a plain black scarf around his neck and shimmied into his jacket. It may have only been mid-October, but this year's autumn was fast proving to be one of the harshest he'd experienced since moving to the United States over three years ago.

In that time, Arthur had proved himself to be a valuable member of society as a radio DJ for the city's most popular punk and alternative rock station. He had grown a reputation of being the snarky and very witty Iggy of 98.7 – "The Beast." He'd even gotten his own segment every morning where listeners could call in and ask him questions and argue with him about the current state of U.S. and world politics, popular music, viral videos or really anything.

As his opinions were not always the most popular, he'd come to realize he had a following of "haters" that the company really loved to make fun of. It was a good thing none of his listeners actually knew of his true identity as a lonely Brit who loved to garden and mostly enjoyed his isolation from society when not on the clock.

Walking out of the apartment building, Arthur shoved his hands into his coat pockets and turned in the direction of his favorite morning hole in the wall; a simple café where he could grab a weak Styrofoam cup of steaming hot tea and a muffin.

It was an overcast day, to say the least. He briefly wondered why he didn't think to bring his umbrella or watch the weather forecast before leaving his flat. He felt truly idiotic as he walked into the café and the heavens opened up onto the Earth, covering his city in wet drops. He'd heard the clap of thunder over all of the sounds in the small business and groaned, thinking of how horrid he'd feel, sitting in wet trousers and shoes all day.

Nothing could be done about it now, he supposed. Walking up to the cashier, he placed his order for his usual tea and pumpkin muffin. They'd known him by now well enough to know he was one of the only people in the morning to order tea rather than coffee or espresso.

Clutching the paper bag holding his muffin, he aimed his steps for the front door of the establishment. Upon grabbing for the handle, the door suddenly swung in and nearly knocked Arthur on his bottom. He was able to stay balanced enough to stay upright and save his beverage, but there was nothing to be done about the muffin that had slipped from his fingers and out of the bag onto the floor.

Bristling, Arthur prepared himself to slew together a string of curses at this haggard-looking stranger that practically threw a door at him, but was interrupted before he could even get a word in edgewise.

"Oh man! Dude, I'm so sorry! Here, let me buy you a new muffin," said the bespectacled stranger as he bent down to pick the trashed pastry up from the floor.

Arthur was fuming at this point and mumbled as he walked out of the door, "Bloody stupid Americans. All so damn clumsy!"

He shoved past the stranger and stalked down the street, pulling his scarf up above his head to block some of the rain from his hair and face, while burrowing further into his thick wool coat for warmth.

The American man peered down the street, watching Arthur walk towards an unknown destination, abject hurt showing on his face and soaking himself in the process. He was stunned to say the least, but hoped he'd get the chance soon to make it up to the mystery Brit he'd managed to make an instant enemy out of. He slowly pulled himself out of the rain and sat down to read his now soggy newspaper and wonder about the strange Brit he'd knocked into and how his angry viridian eyes flashed the most profound sorrow he'd seen in his entire lifetime. In that moment, he knew he had to find out who had hurt this man, despite not even knowing him.

TBC, maybe?