Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.
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Skipping Rocks

Across the Lake.

Unseasonable fog ghosted over the placid waters of the formidable, glassy lake that stretched before the young, wheat-haired boy standing at its shore, adding a humid quality to the atmosphere and obscuring the usually-visible land on the other side. He gazed almost dazedly across the miniscule, choppy waves that rippled the water's surface, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose before jamming his hands into the pouch pocket on the front of his carmine hoodie. Why doesn't Dad let me come over to this lake very much? It doesn't make sense… he acts like I'm gonna die if I get near it or something.

His crystalline, sky blue eyes frantically darted around his surroundings at the thought of his father, clarifying that the only semblance of family he possessed hadn't yet figured out where he was. Cool relief cracked over his head, spreading through his veins and tickling the spidery nerve connections lurking just underneath his apricot skin. He bent down to scoop up a flat rock smoothed by countless waves, cocked his wrist and tossed it over the cobalt water after a tiny wave crashed against the shore. The fog seemed to clear as the stone skipped across the mirror-like surface, smacking against the water four times before sinking into the unknown depths below. The boy grinned to himself as something shadowy moved across the lake, curious eyes reflexively snapping up to see what had moved on the edge of his periphery.

The silhouette of another young boy that had to have been as old as he was stood against the opposite shore, clutching something fluffy and white to his chest. The blonde could see that the visitor had champagne-hued hair like his own but the other's was slightly longer, adorned with a curly strand that seemed to jut away from the rest of his hair. The hoodie-clad boy's hand rose in a welcoming wave; the other seemed to hesitate for a few moments before mimicking the action. I wonder who that is. I've never seen anyone else when I've come out here. How did he get over there? Did he wade through the water?

"Hi!" he called after a minute, a summery smile breaking across his face at the possibility of making a new friend.

"Alfred!"

The boy's heart leapt into his throat and fluttered double time as he recognized the moderate voice that had called him. All thoughts about the boy across the lake vacated his mind as he deliberately spun around to face his father, withdrawing his hands from his pocket. The narrow-framed man, known to the world as Arthur Kirkland, stood only a few inches away from Alfred, his choppy flaxen hair dipping into fiery emerald eyes that burned with chagrin. His hands were balled into fists and placed on his hips, his back slightly arched to loom over his son who was only a few inches shorter than himself at only eight years old. His mouth pinched as he tried to calm himself down enough to form a coherent sentence before he inquired, "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing out here? I thought I've told you time and time again to stay away from this lake, but apparently the message hasn't sunk in yet!" The speed of his speech increased drastically as he rambled on; Alfred could have sworn he was sinking into the ground from the vexation that edged his father's voice. "Do you know how worried I was when I found that you weren't in your room? I thought you had run away, for god's sake! …I'm just glad I was wrong… but now it's time to go home. You're grounded for a week with no television or video games."

Alfred bit his bottom lip as his expression broke: he had never expected exactly how much trouble he would be in if he had gotten caught around this lake. "Yes, Dad," he muttered just loud enough for his father to hear before formidable fingers seized his wrist.

He held his tongue during the walk home as Arthur mumbled incessantly under his breath, all centering on the fact that Alfred had come out to the lake knowing that he had told him not to. Alfred's mind wandered as his body shifted into auto-pilot through the affair of dinner and getting ready for bed, flashing back to the foreign boy that he had somewhat met on the lake's opposite shore. He decided to ask his father about who lives on the other side of the lake in a few days' time—it would only end badly if he brought up anything having to do with that manmade body of water only hours after being caught standing on its sand.

He yanked the meticulously-made covers back and slid in-between freshly-laundered sheets adorned with superheroes and aliens, whisking his argentine frames off of his nose and placing them on the teak nightstand beside his bed. Cerulean eyes slid upward to meet now-calm chartreuse as Arthur bent over his son, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy. Alfred managed to slip an arm around his father and squeeze before the man pecked the middle of his forehead and straightened. "I love you," he murmured, ruffling Alfred's goldenrod hair affectionately, taking care not to disturb the extreme cowlick that stood triumphantly away from his head: it only served to irritate the child.

"I love you too, Dad," Alfred replied before flipping over onto his side, snatching the covers up to his chin.

"Goodnight," Arthur whispered, loud enough for his only son to hear as he switched off the spaceship-shaped lamp on the nightstand and vacated the room, closing the door until it clicked.

All of the muscles in Alfred's petite body seem to unwind as they relaxed, his luminescent eyes flickering closed after a few minutes. Just before he let the tender grip of sleep ensnare him, a thought rushed across the blank cavern of his mind: I wonder if that boy will be there tomorrow after school…?

To be continued.