Countryhumans One shots! (cause shipping is cute)

Tirándose piedritas (Chile x Argentina AU)

So, this chapter is loosely based on a song called 'Así fue que empezaron papá y mamá' translated to 'That's how mom and dad begun', it a funny simple dancing song, but somehow I decided to use it to write this story (I'll leave the translation of the song at the end of the chapter, if you're interested XP). Btw! This is connected to the Bracolo story 'New family in town' but can be read on its own ( ꈍᴗꈍ).  Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little thing.

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Chile's POV

It had all started as soon as his family had decided to move into the little town, with his father becoming the teacher of the only rural school of the town.

His parents had been unpacking box after box, too busy to give him any attention and too stressed to wonder where he would be all afternoon. Being just a kid, he had snuck out of the house, careful to not being seen by the employees of the moving company they had hired, hiding behind unorganized furniture and blessing his slender frame for the for time in his life.

Walking through dirt ways and stone paths he gazed in awe at the colorful architecture of the little town, buildings resting close to one another and tiny shops and houses filled with the sound of friendly conversations made between people who knew eachother. The town was certainly smaller and simpler than the last one his family had lived in, but its nooks and crannies resonated with a warmth that spoke loudly about its inhabitants.

Lost in amazement, he had walked without looking around, a smile blooming in his face when the begining of a forest interrupted his wandering. The sound of singing birds and leaves rustling in the breeze had made his heart soar with excitement and, without giving it too much of a thought, he had entered the dense vegetation.

After a few minutes of following a small path in the ground -'paths are made by walking' his father had told him once (probably as a metaphor that he hadn't understand at such a young age), so that meant people came here often- the sound of water running had made him stop for a second before trying to find its source.

As he approached, his ears had catched the voices of other kids, screaming in delight and playing in the water. He had walked closer to the sound, eager to meet other kids his age.

That's how he had met him for the first time.

Argentina.

The other had been jumping around, happily splashing water around, light blue skin sparkling under the sun as fireflies evaded him and his loud friends. His laugh was unrestricted and open, a gap where a tooth had fallen not too long ago, interrupting his smile that showed all his teeth, clothes dirty with mud and shoes nowhere to be seen.

He looked fun to be with.

Until they had spotted him and, confusing him with other person, had thrown a ball of mud directly on his favourite shirt. The silence had stretched uncomfortably slow as he looked down on the last gift of his grandparents before moving away, away from the town he had known all his life, away from his only friend and his life and everything he knew.

Today it even seemed childish, but back then, with all the changes a child his age was no fit to face alone, that simple ball of mud had decided everything. Specially when, after getting back home, his mother had looked at him, eyes filled with rage and started screaming about his whereabouts and how inconsiderate he was before slapping him hard in the face. Soon after, another fight between his parents had started and, as he changed clothes inside his room, he had decided that he did not like the blue country a bit.

The next week he had went back to the creek, making sure to be alone while collecting peebles on the shore. When he had come back home, the blue kid had looked at him, an apologetic smile filling his face as he waved from the other side of the street.