Just a regular day at the swimming baths… well, almost. I really should be working on my story Mistletoe Kisses, but in my first aid class today we were learning about life-saving, and this one-shot just popped into my head. Sorry for going into way too much detail about Matthew's back-story, for the overall messiness of the plot, and for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Also, some of the phrases I use might be different because I'm from England, so if it's hard to understand please let me know. Thankyou for reading, please review, and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers.

Matthew Jones-Kirkland sat at the edge of the swimming pool, letting his pale feet dangle in the warm water, and tried not to look too jealous as his brother Alfred executed yet another perfect dive. Al rushed to the surface, grinning like an excited puppy, and waved cheerily at Matthew. "How was that one?" he called out, taking a few effortless strokes towards his brother. The younger boy smiled politely for what felt like the hundredth time, and replied, "It was great, Al."

His brother barely acknowledged the reply, choosing instead to scramble up the ladder that extended from the water. "I'm going to try a double flip next!" he yelled, shaking his dark blonde hair and sending a shower of water droplets all over Matthew, before hurrying off towards the high diving board. The younger teenager wiped his face with a sigh and watched with envious eyes as Alfred scaled the ladder once more.

At that moment he would have given anything to be able to join his brother at the top of that platform, to dive as gracefully as a swan into the clear blue water. Unfortunately, Matthew couldn't swim.

Their influential father, Arthur Kirkland, hadn't intended to have children in his twenties. What was supposed to be a meaningless fling turned into something far more serious when his girlfriend discovered she was pregnant. Arthur, a high-profile young lawyer with an already impressive track record, knew that such a scandal could wreck his entire career. So he had married the girl, and nine months later Alfred was born.

From piecing together bits of information from both his father and his mother, Matthew had come to the conclusion that she was rather more interested in him than he was in her. Arthur had been planning a divorce, he had discovered, when his wife announced that she was pregnant once more. The younger boy suspected it was a last-ditch attempt to convince the British man to stay. It didn't work. Arthur, ever the gentleman, stayed with his wife until Matthew was born, then divorced her as quickly as possible.

Their mother, heart-broken, had fled back to Canada, where she had lived as a child, taking baby Matthew with her. He had been raised amongst dense, sweet-smelling pines and dusty forests, whereas his brother (older by just one year) had grown up on the fast-paced streets of London, England. At Arthur's insistence, the boys had met each other every Christmas and at each of their birthdays.

And now, with Matthew's grandmother ill in hospital, his mother had sent him away to stay with Alfred for the summer. The older boy had been thrilled, and insisted on dragging Matthew down to the swimming baths as soon as he had unpacked to show off his diving skills, despite the Canadian boy's throbbing headache and ferocious jet lag.

Matthew dragged a toe across the surface of the water, watching the ripples dance away from his foot. He'd never realised how much he was missing out on, not being able to swim. His mother was terrified of large expanses of water (her father had drowned in a boating accident when she was a teenager) and had insisted that Matthew stay as far away from them as possible. He looked up as Alfred performed yet another smooth dive, this one incorporating a double somersault, and felt a pang of loss in his chest.

I guess I've always been quite sheltered, he thought to himself. The area where they lived in Canada was very sparsely populated, and he spent more time alone in the forest than socialising with other people. Alfred, on the other hand, growing up in the heart of the city (and thanks to his father's busy working schedule, often alone) seemed to have an endless torrent of friends and hobbies. Matthew rubbed his head, cursing the time difference and his exhaustion.

On the other side of the pool, Gilbert Beildshcmidt was wondering aloud why ugly French people were so goddam irresistible to women. He glared not-so-subtly at Francis, his best friend, who merely smirked in response and let his hand drift a little lower on the back of the girl he was currently seducing. Gilbert hadn't bothered learning her name. He doubted Francis had, either.

He sighed and turned away from the vomit-making scene. It wasn't that he was jealous of the French boy. In fact, he was more envious of the girl. Stealing all his best friend's attention, laughing at his unfunny jokes, making him put on that ridiculously heavy accent. Gilbert had seen it all hundreds of times before, and it was getting tedious.

A few feet away the third member of their trio, the permanently cheerful Antonio, was laughing as a small dark-haired teenager attempted to drown him. The would-be murderer in question was Romano, a permanently angry Italian who (for some unknown reason) Antonio was infatuated with. Gilbert couldn't go within two metres of the stupid squirt without wanting to punch him. The German boy growled angrily and turned away, swimming with strong, powerful strokes across the pool.

Why had he let those idiots convince him to come here in the first place? He'd thought they would have fun, make trouble, just like the old days. Instead, both Francis and Antonio were too busy flirting to even speak to him. Gilbert reached the other side of the pool and pulled himself up out of the water, feeling both annoyed and somewhat lonely.

Matthew looked up as a boy emerged from the water a few metres away from him. The guy was probably a year or so older than he was, with pure white hair and ruby red eyes that must mean he was albino. Matthew gawked at him for a few seconds before he realised that he was being incredibly rude, and stared back at his feet with a slight blush.

It wasn't just that the boy was albino (even though Matthew had never actually seen an albino person in real life before). It was more to do with the fact that he was incredibly handsome, and dressed only in a pair of scarlet swimming trunks. Matthew was so busy determinedly not staring at the boy that he didn't notice the large figure collide with his back until it was too late…

Gilbert ran a hand through his dripping hair and leant back on his hands. Screw friends, he thought. Who needs them, anyway? Suddenly there was a huge splash to his left and he looked up, surprised. The blond boy who Gilbert had dimly noticed sitting on the edge of the pool had entered the water in a dramatic fashion. "Anyone can make a splash, asshole," Gilbert muttered, watching with disdain.

But after a few seconds, when the boy still hadn't emerged and the bubbles were starting to clear, he realised that the kid hadn't been showing off. The albino peered down into the pool and through the cloudy water saw a dim figure slowly sinking towards the bottom.

Before Matthew could really register that he was falling, he had splashed into the water. It's colder than I thought, some part of his brain said calmly, before full-on panic mode kicked in. He lashed out frantically with his entire body, but no matter how hard he struggled, he didn't get any closer to the surface. It was a completely unfamiliar situation. The water stung his eyes, and with the added disadvantage of not having his glasses on, he couldn't see a thing. Oh god, Matthew thought, I'm going to die.

Gilbert swallowed and looked around frantically, waiting for someone else to notice. The other inhabitants of the pool seemed oblivious. They went on swimming, splashing and flirting as if nothing had happened. "Come on," the German boy muttered, "I can't do anything. I'm no hero."

But soon it became obvious that if he didn't do something, no one would. "For fucks sake," the reluctant hero growled, disgusted with humanity, and dived back into the water.

The body was almost at the bottom by the time Gilbert reached it. He grimaced, the air slowly seeping out of his lungs, and wrapped his arms around the boy. Up close he could see that the kid was older than he'd realised, perhaps only a year or so younger than the albino himself, and weirdly… attractive.

His eyes were closed, but he had soft blonde hair, floating like a halo around his head, and his features were delicate and pretty. Not the time or place, Gilbert reprimanded himself, and kicked off hard from the bottom of the pool, dragging the boy upwards.

Gasping and struggling with the extra weight, the German boy reached the surface. He took a huge gulp of air, shifted the kid so he was holding him gently around the chest, and, trying to ignore the pain spreading through his arms, swam to the side of the pool. When he reached it he became aware of the people huddled around, watching him with shocked expressions.

One of them, a blonde boy in a pair of American flag trunks, yelled something out and tugged the limp body out of Gilbert's arms. The boy was carefully laid out on the side of the pool and the crowd of people surrounded him, blocking him from view. Coughing and tired, Gilbert yanked himself up out of the water. Being a hero was so overrated.

It was a few seconds before he could breathe normally again. His arms ached, and his eyes were stinging from the chlorine. Stupid ungrateful people, he thought bitterly to himself, I save him, and this is the thanks I get? I can't even see the damn kid! Fired up with rage and scorn, the albino boy shoved his way through the crowd of people and reached the middle, where the guy in the flag trunks was crouched worriedly over the blonde kid's body. He still wasn't moving.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then- "Come on! Doesn't anyone know CPR?" Gilbert folded his arms angrily. Before anything happened, however, the unconscious boy's pale chest twitched, and suddenly he was coughing violently. The loud, wracking hacks subsided, and the boy's eyelids flickered open.

He had, Gilbert grudgingly admitted, pretty eyes. Really fucking pretty eyes. Kind of pale violet, like those forget-me-not flowers that grew in the park. The boy shivered, sat up, and said uncertainly, "Alfred?" Gilbert snorted scornfully and turned away, elbowing his way through the people once more.

The albino boy stalked away towards the changing rooms. Did no one have any manners any more? He'd fucking saved a drowning boy, and no one even thanked him. Ungrateful fuckers.

But when he was a few metres away from the changing rooms, a voice from behind him called out, "Wait!" Gilbert narrowed his red eyes and looked back over his shoulder, to come face to face with none other than the drowning boy. He was even prettier when he wasn't dying. "I- Thankyou," the blonde said breathlessly, "Thankyou so much. You- you saved my life."

Gilbert blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I'm Matthew," the boy continued. He seemed nervous. "I- Gilbert," the albino replied. A shy, hesitant smile spread over Matthew's face. "Seeing as you saved me from drowning," he said bashfully, staring at his feet, "Do you- I mean, can I buy you a drink?" Timid, terrified, beautiful violet eyes lifted to stare into Gilbert's own. The albino thought for a few long, tense moments. Then he grinned wolfishly, and threw an arm around the Canadian's bare shoulders.

"It's the least you can do."

Not so happy with the ending… Thankyou for reading! Reviews are always appreciated.