Je ne possède pas Hetalia. (I do not own Hetalia, in French.)

Two weeks later, they had moved into their large Copenhagen apartment. Lukas and Emil dissolved into a stony silence, their hate of the urban vista clear to anyone. The nearest ski slopes were awful- the hardest slopes were reminiscent of the ones Lukas had mastered at the age of seven. Now, the brothers were presented with a challenge most unwelcome: school. They were both fluent in Danish and English (as well as French, German, Norwegian and Icelandic), so there weren't any language barriers, and they were both in possession of sharp minds, but as aforementioned, neither of the pair were particularly social. Back in Norway, this was fine as Lukas was well-known for his skiing talents, but in Copenhagen, Lukas was a nobody once again.

Typical, he mused. I work for years on something, turning an interest into a career, and what am I rewarded with? At least a year in a horribly urban place, the climate of which is not even remotely related to that which I can practice decently on. Only a year, he reassured himself. Only a year until I am eighteen, and until I can drop this ridiculous idea and go back to Norway and live on my own.

With that in his mind, he straightened up and gave his father a glare that was colder than a winter in the Arctic.

.:.

Matthias Kohler was what one would describe as a social being. He had a large amount of friends, went to an equally large amount of parties, spent his free time on social networking sites or in one of Copenhagen's many bars. Yet, he thought, there is still something missing. He brushed the thought away and threw his bag over his shoulder, heading for the door. "Bye, Mother!"

"Have a good day, sweetheart!" Came the cheery reply.

Upon arriving at HIA (Hetalia International Academy- his parents wanted him to go to a more culturally diverse school than the other rather more dull options Copenhagen offered), Matthias was approached by a flustered-looking receptionist.

"Mr Kohler, would you mind doing me a favour? We have a new student who needs someone to help him find his way around- would you mind being his guide?" On hearing this, Matthias glanced behind the receptionist towards a small teen with his head bowed, checking his phone.

"No, of course I wouldn't mind! I'd love to!"

"Thank you, Matthias, you are very kind... Well, this is the new student, Matthias, meet Lukas Bondevik- he's just moved here from Norway- Mr Bondevik, this is Matthias Kohler."

Stuffing his smartphone in his pocket, the teenager looked up for the first time. Matthias had to stifle a gasp, because the face that was looking blankly into his just had to be the most beautiful he had ever seen... How Matthias wanted to touch that platinum blonde hair swept to one side by a cross-shaped hair grip, just to see if it was as silky as it looked, how he wanted to stare into those icy blue eyes for as long as he could...

"G-great to meet you, Lukas! W-welcome to HIA!"
The Norwegian gave Matthias a curt nod.

"So, what class do you have first?" Regaining his usual gusto, Matthias beckoned for the other blonde to follow him.

"...History." Lukas spoke with an almost unnoticeable accent, the Dane noted, and in a monotone that was, somehow, a combination of both boring and entrancing.

"Really?! Same! What room, we might have it together! Let me see your timetable!" Grabbing the other boy's timetable, Matthias strode ahead, leading the way to where their class was. This boy is insane, thought Lukas in annoyance, at about the same time as Matthias let one thought dominate his mind: this boy is gorgeous.

.:.

That evening, Matthias thought over the day's events. He had had a great time showing Lukas around, despite the lack of reaction on the latter's part. There was still one thing that bugged him though.

Bondevik. Lukas Bondevik. That name. Matthias had definitely heard it before, and it was driving him mad, for he couldn't think for the life of him where he'd heard it. It didn't occur to him that the information he was racking his brains for was just a click away...

.:.

"Good day, Lukas?" Emil inquired, simply out of courtesy, for he knew that the only day Lukas could call good was one during which he spent at least ten hours on the slopes. Pretty much everyday, back in Norway. Absolutely never, here in Denmark.

Emil was concerned about his brother. He hadn't had an easy life, to say the least, neither of them had. Yet, Emil thought, Lukas' was considerably worse. For this reason, Lukas had spent as much of his life as possible on a mountain with only a pair of skis for company. Skiing, for Lukas, numbed any sort of pain and made him feel more alive- and not just due to the speed, either. Emil's father knew nothing of this, and unless Lukas wanted him to, Emil wasn't going to tell him. However, Emil couldn't help but wonder if that had his father been informed of Lukas' emotional attachment to skiing, he might have thought twice about dragging them off to Denmark. Perhaps he would have done anyway, it was clear that his judgement was not the best- he was still blind to the fact that this Jemma only wanted his money. But perhaps he would have decided against it...

What am I thinking?! I could never tell Father about Lukas' attachment to his sport. He would never understand.

"Meh. You?"

"Uhm... Okay, but the person who showed me around kind of scared me..."

Emil then went into describing the Russian student who had helped him find his way, his mind only half thinking about his new... Acquaintance.

.:.

When he shuffled under his duvet to try and get some sleep in his new surroundings, Lukas' mind was on rather hopeless situation he had found himself in.
Oh, how he longed for the icy slopes of Norway, how he wanted nothing more than to be performing outrageously dangerous stunts in front of crowds of people, how he missed his recognition. He liked being known for something good after years of being either unrecognised or infamous... He was thrown second glances earlier, but whether that was because they recognised him from his mysterious renown in the world of winter sports, or whether it was because they were surprised to see the loud Dane with someone so reserved. Or perhaps they were just trying to work out who the new student was and where he was from... Lukas really couldn't care less anymore. All he wanted was to be back on the ski slopes, away from everything and practicing his only interest.

And then there was the Dane himself. How could anyone be so damn annoying? So different to the tranquility of his acquaintances back in Norway... Lukas sniggered as he compared Matthias to the British boy he had befriended back in Norway... Arthur generally kept himself to himself and almost always had his nose in a book. Lukas questioned Matthias' ability to read... Maybe that was a little harsh. Still, it was a funny comparison. Arthur, whose wild side consisted of a secret crush on their old PE teacher (who obviously returned the feelings) and Matthias, whose wild side was misnamed as it was clearly larger than just one side.

How Lukas longed for normality.

.:.

Crash. In his hurry to reach his computer, Matthias knocked over his chair, probably waking up his parents. Oh, well. It wasn't the most important thing at that moment. Woken up by the thought at some unearthly hour, the Dane knew that if he didn't follow his thought, he would probably go insane. Switching on his laptop, he wondered just why he didn't think of it before. He wanted to where he recognised his new classmate from, so where better to look than the Internet? Once he had loaded his homepage, he went straight to Google. Lukas Bondevik... Who are you?

When he saw the many pages created in his acquaintance's honour, he let out a sharp gasp. He clicked on one- a YouTube channel- and as the video started, he nearly knocked over his entire desk at what he was watching. So that's what you do in your free time...

A/N

Да, I'm back! You guys have... No idea how much your reviews meant to me. Seriously, as soon as I got my first review, all I wanted to do was post more. Self restraint, Аия... That's the Russian variant of my name, by the way. I do a Russian club after school, which I'm more than just a little obsessed with. I'm still in denial about whether or not I should be fairly personal with my profile. Whatever, no one's really interested in my life- I'm just your average nerd.

Anyways, yesterday was a strike day, AKA no school, so my mother and I (I'm an only child, so I'm still pretty close to my parents, and not ashamed to be seen with them in public) went to a nearby city (believe it or not, the county I live in is home to no cities itself) to do some shopping, which means a several-hour-long train journey, which equals... Writing! I take my iPod with me everywhere, so I can write whenever. So that means I'm quite a few chapters ahead. But I'm still only going to update on a weekly basis- Friday's the day! Although, I won't be able to post week after next, as it's half term and I'm off to Mallorca (an island off Spain) without WiFi. So I think I may post two chapters next week to make up for it. And a week of doing nothing in the Spanish sunlight means... That's right! More chapters. But only if you review... *evil smile*

Anyway, I just rambled. Again. That always happens, and I'm in danger of doing it again.

By the way, in case you were wondering, Jemma and the brothers' father are OCs- I just couldn't bring myself to make one of the characters a bitchy slut and another a complete wanker. Sorry about that.

I AM TRULY DONE TALKING (writing?) , I PROMISE!

Update on updates: Expect a new chapter each Friday, around 9:00 pm GMT. I will notify you in advance if that isn't possible for whatever reason.