Well, I haven't touched this story in ages! Sorry guys! I got so caught up with the Viking period stories I neglected the modern day ones! I beg for your forgiveness! This chapter is short, but that's because things have not been working in my favor exactly in the game of life, but I tried my best with this! Please enjoy! I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia—if I did, Sweden would be naked alllllll~ the time! I also do not own the Moomins! Thank you to my beautiful and loving Swedish/Finnish/Russian translators, MalinChan, yotzie, Ruusu, and Kooliobutterflyhahaha! Thanks so much guys! I couldn't write this stuff without you! :)


After going over in his mind a remembered lecture about what to do if a kid suddenly pees on you, Berwald was just about ready to throw in the towel...The pee soaked towel that he cheerfully attained when a young little Molly-Sue decided that she was so excited about seeing MoominPappa that she peed her pants. Well. Such was the life of a Moomin, a yellow stained one.

But before Berwald could once again dote on his tragic and pitiable existence, he caught, from the corner of his eye, a creature that was so beautiful, it would put an ABBA singing Angel to shame!

For, sitting down at the park bench that rested before a mound of food stalls, leaned a blonde beauty with the most rounded ass Berwald had ever seen.

Forgetting who he was for a moment-a Moomin covered in pee-pee with a big two pound black top hat on his damned head and a tail that was currently being used for jump-rope- he allowed his eyes to wander up and down that smiling beauty with the straw colored hair, sweet looking lips and generous smile. Not to mention the mans' ass. Damn did that thing look firm, like you could hang something off of it...or put something in it...Berwald thought lustfully before he, shocked and ashamed of himself, quickly began to hit his cloth covered head with his mitten with scolding, earning the gawking stare of children and parents alike as they watched MoominPappa hit himself with an oversized white skiing glove.

Dear God Berwald! You are in an amusement park dressed as Finland's most prized and loveable characters! Pull yourself together man! Finding that hitting his cloth head with his mittens was not the best way to seem presentable and all together sane, the Swede, taking a deep breath, decided to just maybe...perhaps...talk to the man with the pretty face and nice ass? Maybe?

Sure, why the hell not. It's not like he suddenly had a mild tent in his pants and a costume that smelled like piss—why not try to woe a potential date-It's not like he's ever been rejected or laughed at before. Berwald sighed, wishing with all his might that he could just shove this stupid costume off and take a shower and go home, turn ABBA on as loud as it would go on his shitty stereo and just drown his sorrows out to the sounds of 'Mamma Mia' and 'Waterloo'. Ahh...wouldn't that be nice...

But life's always been a bitch for Berwald and now was not one of those exceptions. Because, right now, as Berwald, tall, awkward, gawking Berwald was just standing in the middle of the cobble road, attracting the attention of toothless and grinning kids, a pair of beautiful glowing eyes were on him. Not the costume, not the piss stains, but him. Him. Him. Him.

Sitting on that bench that Berwald would love to be at that exact moment, sat Berwald's current affections, the cute and bubbly looking man whose eyes were suddenly staring at him obsessively. Damn if lust didn't have a nice ass and blue eyes.

Blue? Yeah…they looked like blue eyes… Berwald scrunched up his face as he squinted, trying to hone in on the beautiful pale skinned man that graced his range of sight.

Yep. Blue eyes, pure, lovely blue eyes-but what did it really matter the color-here was this lovely creature sent down from heaven! Now it was up to Berwald to woe said angelic God of a man.

As if on pure instinct though, and maybe a slight movement stirring in his pants, Berwald found his awkwardly tall and gangly legs nudging themselves closer to the wingless Angel in front of him. The Angel that really seemed to only have eyes for him, happy, joyful, obsessive eyes... Berwald found himself smiling softly—something that he did not do very often.

But for this moment he made a damn good exception.

And so, taking a great giant breath that filled his lungs pleasingly, he stiffened up his legs and, lifting up each foot as if it weighed twenty pounds, he began to shuffle over to the bench, watching with crystalline eyes to the beauty before him.

With each step his heart began to beat louder and louder, his blood thrashing in his body-he could feel his pulse in his mouth and he felt about three times hotter in his white plush suit as the Finnish summer sun began to bite down on him with tendrils of heat.

But it was all worth it. All worth it to see those eyes…those…those blue eyes… those lovely piercing yet loving eyes that looked more bluer than the sparkling ocean, more bluer than sky during a winter rain, more bluer than…

Wait a minute.

Berwald suddenly paused, his eyes growing wide, breath caught in his throat, neck hot and sticky from sweat, from anticipation that suddenly turned into quick spurts of adrenaline mixed with confusion.

Somewhere near him a child in a stroller cried, a balloon popped and a car horn honked-but all that was obsolete to him now.

Because, staring before Berwald, before him in undying glory and unmatched sweetness and innocence-was the boy from nine years ago. The boy with straw colored hair, sweet natural smile, and eyes…eyes that glimmered like freshly polished amethyst.

Those violet eyes that haunted him all those years, that made his days at the park worth living, that instilled the last shred of hope in his already overworked exhausted heart.

Those violet eyes, that were staring right at him.

Those violet eyes, that were made for him and only him.