[[Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, be happy I don't.

Warning-Contains BoyxBoy / Shonen-ai, don't like don't read. Rated M for language and sexual themes (Not gonna be a lemon, don't get your hopes up)]]

Chapter One

Rainfall coated the cobble stone road, giving the large imbedded rocks a glossy shine. The glow of the street lights bounced off of the mirror like surface, obscuring and streaming down the street in long, blurry streams. Tino found himself staring into a puddle that had collected on the side of the road. He gazed at his reddened eyes, his tears mixing with the rain and joining the cluster as it fell to the ground below. He gathered himself and pulled his coat close to his body as he began to walk the four agonizing blocks to his own door. He froze in his place at the steps, knowing exactly what was waiting for him on the other side.

Finnish curse words mixed with the blare of the television and the clang of a vodka bottle slamming against the coffee table after each drunken gulp his father took. The bruises on the teenager's arms began to sting again, bringing more tears to his eyes as he stepped up and turned the door knob. He took a deep breath and readied himself. Once his foot was past the threshold he shot off like a cannon up the stairs, locking the large wooden door behind him.

Not five seconds after the lock clicked his father was there, banging on the door with his fists and yelling threats in a deep and slurred Finnish accent. "Open this fucking door you little fagot. Are you too much of a pussy to face your dad? Come out and be a man instead of the gay little fairy you are." Tino stuck to the opposite wall as if he had been stapled to in. Inwardly he begged whatever deity that could hear him that the door wouldn't give again. Every blunt hit made him wince as if they were striking him instead of the hard wood. Every part of him ached at the thought.

After a few minutes his father got bored. Tino figured the man was to drunk to knock down the door like he had done in the past. Down the hall more shouting began, this time directed at his step-mother. Tino sighed in relief, at least tonight it wouldn't be him. He undressed, throwing his clothes into a heap in the corner of the room, and sprawled out of his bed in boxers and an undershirt. In the windowsill gleamed Tino's shining beacon of hope, a small, worn out, old mp3 player. He popped in the ear buds and blasted the metal music as loud as it would go. For a moment he could drown out his father's yelling, his step-mother's sobbing, the irritating hum of the street lamp outside his broken window, and the sirens that, while begged them to every time they passed house, never stopped at his door. Right now the only shouting the Finnish boy could hear came from the lips of an angry singer, and he was happy to let him feel everything Tino wanted to feel himself. Somewhere between angry songs Tino drifted to sleep, in his dreams he ran away and never looked back. If only that would be his reality.

A loud thump made Tino jolt from his bed, His father was back and angrier than ever. "You little bitch, did you drink all my liquor?" he yelled in between ramming his shoulder against the door. Tino stared in horror as the hinges gave way. The large wooden door dropped to the ground and his father's shadow stretched across the floor. The boy didn't dare look his father in the eye, not when all he could do is make it worse. He heard the fist coming before he saw it, but he still had no time to brace himself. With one hit his father sent him flying into the wall and everything went black.