Cracks, A DarkScientist Story

AN: Hey guys! I'm here for another story…its more OC-centric at the start but I swear it gets better. Thanks for all the reviews and love for my other story, Lullaby. So…this one is a bit darker than usual and its written in another style entirely D:

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. I only own Xander W. Beillschmidt.

"Come on Xander, we've been over this again and again. You know you have to tell me someday."

"…"

"Tell me at least a little and I'll lessen the meetings to once a day and I'll tell your uncle that you're improving."

"…"

"…"

"I didn't know you guys negotiate."

"Xander…please. I'm losing patience."

"I don't care."

"Just a bit?"

Glare.

"Fine."

"Thank you!"

"I remember the day my life fell apart. It was on November 13 and I had just turned 7. My father had invited Uncle Roderich and my step-father invited a friend of his from Russia. They were both avoiding each other at all costs, my parents. They barely spoke and they weren't even smiling in my pictures. I didn't know why at that time of course. My two elder twin brothers were on my step-father's side frowning at my father who was beside Uncle Roderich while my elder sister was glaring at my step-father who was beside Uncle Vanya. I remember blowing out my candles and I as made my wish, I heard my parents' yelling at each other in the backyard, and "I want a divorce!"

"At first I didn't know what a divorce was and I asked my sister what it meant. She didn't say a thing and asked if I wanted to open my presents. I was still really young and I agreed with her. After all, when you're young, your first thought on birthdays and Christmas were the presents right? So my parents' friends, my siblings and I proceeded to open each present. I didn't really like tearing off the wrapping since it made a lot of mess so I left my brothers to do that. After I opened my last present, my step-father came in. He looked like he had been crying, I tried to ask what was wrong but he didn't say anything and asked me if I wanted a slice of cake. He was smiling when he said that so it sort of gave me security. I nodded and cake was passed around, I don't really remember what it tasted like, or how it looked like. All I know was that there was cake…"

"After everyone had left, my sister was tucking me into my bed. My brothers had come in earlier and had played with me and showed me how some of my toys worked and stuff like that. I asked my sister what I had asked her earlier. What a divorce was, I mean. She still didn't say anything, but I grabbed her sleeve and begged her to tell me. Her eyes watered and she told me that it meant that father and step-father don't want to be together anymore. I was too young to understand what she meant by that and just let her go. I felt bad for making my sister feel that way and cry. My father taught me not to make girls cry."

"Can I go now?"

"No Xander, you may not."

"Why not?"
"Because I've finally got you talking. You may not remember the cake but—"

"The cake always remembers me?"

"…you really are a lost case."

"Why thank you."

"Was it always like this at home?"

"…"

"…"

"Well…I don't think so…"

"I remember when I first was brought to my step-father's home. I was three then…just realized that…I-I only spent four years there. Germany and Canada are two different places. At first, I had problems understanding the people there. I mean, I could speak English but I wasn't as fluent as my new step-siblings."

"I guess it confused me a little. Change of surroundings, people I didn't know well—or at least remember clearly enough…"

"So, your siblings never visited you when you lived in Germany?"

"I don't know. I don't remember. I mean, I was three. Father had dated step-father before I was born…so probably they visited East Germany."

"East? But it says in your profile you lived in the West. Xander…I thought you said you were going to be honest in answering the profile."

"I was! I lived in West Germany but I was born in the East. My father said that my step-siblings only visited Germany once."

"I see, so who taught you English? I presume it was your step-father. Your accent is rather peculiar though. A mix of Canadian and German accents are present."

"My step-father did teach me. I could already speak in fluent German by the time I was three. Don't ask me why, I just could, or at least that was what my father said."

"When they brought me to Canada, my step-siblings were excited apparently. They had put labels on everything in the house—and when I mean everything, I mean everything. They had even placed one on my step-father's polar bear, Kuma-something. I don't remember much from that time. But of what I can remember, it was pretty happy. Probably the happiest time of my life, it was the first time I had a real family—at least to my standards."

"…"

"Are you…here, I think you need this."

"…thanks. I'm sorry you had to get the tissues from the pantry."

"Meh."

"…did you just say 'meh'?"

"Yes, yes I did. Now you how were your parents at this time? Were they happy? Were they tense?"

"They were…happy mostly. A little stressed of course, having to move from one continent to another. Time changes, work changes, the norm. They seemed fine. So content with one another."

"I remember that when I started primary school, that was the time my father started leaving the country more often. I mean, he usually does for his job, commuting to Germany then coming back to Canada. But he started staying longer and kept less contact with us. It hurt that time and my step-father seemed to be down more often and distressed."

"We were supposed to bring our parents to primary school one day and I asked my step-father. He said yes but told me to ask my father. I was confused but I agreed. I hopped down from the counter and practically skipped to my father's study. I remember still being extremely proud of them then."

"When I reached my father's study, I put on my best good-boy face and knocked on his door. He told me to enter, come to think of it, I never really liked his study. It kind of scared me when I was little. It was always a bit messy with paperwork and law books and stuff lying around. There was only a little lamp on my father's desk because step-father said he was sensitive to the light…Wait, I got side-tracked, hold on…Right, knocking…"

"Well, in the end, he said he would go but he would pass by his office first and get something. I didn't really care, all my child-brain could process was that: 'Father's coming to my school! Awesome!' and not anything else."

"Can I go home now? It's getting late."

"…fine Xander. You may go. But remember to take your meds and no you do not look like a druggie because of them."

"But!"

"Alright, at least take the ones for OCD."
"The arrangement with my uncle…?"

"Okay, okay…here's your prescription and I'll talk to your uncle."
"Thank you."

"You did well today, kid. Really."
"And tomorrow after class?"
"We'll see."