I pulled back the sheet on the bed and crawl inside. My muscles cried in pain and my head throbbed it hurt to look at light.

I close my eyes and sigh. In one day I managed to miss the bus, fried off from work because of my damn boyfriend, my painting was 'not emotional enough' for the art comity, and to top it off I came home to a screaming lover who called me and jobless little shit. I heard the door of the bedroom slam closed.

I moan softly, everything sound bombs and loud firecrackers.

"What are you doing?" he snaps.

"Look, I'm tried and had an extremely long day." I say weakly, I sit up a little to see him angrily walk to the bed and stand next to me.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that Arthur?" he says with a cold tone. I frown.

"Well, I'm sorry but I don't mean to be," I said, swallowing hard, my throat feeling like it's going to close up.

"Well you are! Honestly you're lucky that you're even with me. I feel sorry for you. I pity the mother who had to raise and take care of your ungrateful, lazy ass!" he said half screaming at me. I get up and took my pillow. Trying to be calm I said

"I don't need to take this Francis, I am going to go sleep somewhere else and that is final." As I start walking out of the room he grabs the back of my shirt collar.

"Arthur" he growled I turned and narrowed my eyes looking for the man I fell so deeply in love with but all I saw was hatred.

"Francis…please I've had an awful day and I just need to sleep" I pleaded, I hoped today he would listen to me, my friends were growing more and more worrisome when I came to lunch with black eyes and broken wrists.

"Arthur you're a disgusting, lonesome fag your 'friends' are only with you because of pity!"

I wouldn't cry I could take this, the tears threatening to run down my face.

"You think that I love you? That I need you?" He scoffed his grip on my wrist growing tighter. "I only keep you with me because you belong to me!"

"Francis stop" I whimpered as his nails drew blood from my arm. "Stop what Arthur? Telling you the truth! You should know this you should know that I don't need you your friends don't need you we were all better off without you!" He roared.

"Please stop!" I yelped. He let go of my hand and looked into my eyes.

"Arthur you know I'm right!" Francis scowled.

"No. No you're not right! You lo-love me! My…my friends they love me! I'm important no matter what you say!" The tears burned my cheeks me speech breaking and choking me.

"You do this to me every day! You break my heart constantly!" I was yelling I couldn't believe what I was saying! I was loyal to Francis, I loved Francis right?

His eyes flamed in anger as I begun to realize what I had said.

"I'm so sorry Francis…I didn't mean it…I…I love you" I whispered my breath barley leaving my lips.

The last thing I saw him do was reach for the lamp on the dresser and yell my name.

"Arthur? Arthur?! Arthur!" I hear. I bolt up, sweat dapples my forehead. I whip my head to see Matthew. I look at him curiously he almost never set foot in my studio much less in the morning-I wasn't exactly a 'morning person'-He rolled his eyes at my reaction.

"I need help getting your paintings down to the gallery, which opens in…." he looks at his watch "15 minutes," he says. I quickly pull the raggedy paint stained quilt and stand up. "Which painting did you want in there again, it was the three charcoal ones right?" he asks. I nod and walk over and gently take them off the table.

He picks one of them up and leads me down the hallway of studios that are better newer than mine and down the stairs to the gallery.

He puts them on the places where there used to be my old painting. I get a good amount of money from it. I do have enough money to get a flat for myself, a good one with a heater, a kitchen, and a small television.

But I like the studio. I like being near my paintings, they are important to me, no. They are everything to me.

"Well, I think that just about does it," Mathew says looking at the walls with the new art. "Sorry I had to wake you up so early, you can go back to sleep." He says glancing worriedly at the entrance.

I nod and walk back to my studio. It's an older one, with dusty floors and one small window overlooking the constantly overcast city. It has old rosy peeling wall paper that I put back to wall with glue, but did a dreadful job at it. But I like it. It's my own sanctuary.

I made myself a steaming cup of earl grey tea it scalded my lips as I smiled.

I drifted asleep on the cold paint stained floor wondering if I could ever find a light in my life.

I stared at the door to the now open gallery. In there was the brother I hadn't seen in ages and the shame I'd have to face when I told him about mom and dad the people I had defended for so long.

I reached for the cold handle and slowly pulled the door open lacking my usual joy. Matthew stared back at me with cold unforgiving violet eyes.

"We need to talk" he stated cooling his anger.

I stayed silent quietly closing the door behind me to block out the cold October winds. I tapped my boots making an attempt to rid them of the dirt.

Matthew took my backpack and led me to the stairs out of the gallery all the while maintaining the most uncomfortable silence he could muster.

He opened the door to the apartment without his usual Canadian politeness as I stepped through he sat on the couch looking expectantly at the chair across from him.

I sat in the plush seat. "Alfred, do you remember the night I left?"

"yes…" I mumbled averting my gaze.

"How do you think it felt to be betrayed by a family who said they would love me no matter what?"

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

"They didn't tell me why they wanted you to leave; I never knew why you left!" I pleaded hoping for forgive me for my ignorance.

He looked at me stunned "They…they never told you?"

"Not until I…I" I choked as the words refused to fall from my lips Matthew still surprised stood towering over me I was worried for what he would say I knew I had made a mistake.

His arms wrapped around me enveloping me in their warmth "I'm so sorry Alfred I-I thought you knew."

I hadn't known Matthew was gay until I came-out to my once loving parents. They compared me to him, they told me that it was a sin to love another man and Matthew was a sinner who was destined for Hell.

They claimed they wanted to help him to the right path.

So they kicked him out.

Matthew drew back and said "can we put the past behind us? We'll always be brothers" He smiled through his un-shed tears that bubbled at the corners of his eyes.

I looked at him relived the words sitting on my tongue drowned in tears I nodded burying my face in his sweater clad chest.

Matthew pushed me away and smiled "Can I show you around the gallery?"

I wiped the tears away with the sleeve of my bomber jacket. "Yes please!" Matthew laughed and brought me down the stairs.

"Is there a third floor?" I questioned as we made our way through the water color landscapes by Bella and Lars something-or-other.

"Yes but its old and only one studio up there is used."

"Oh? Why's that?" I quirked my eyebrow as I looked at him.

Matthew laughed awkwardly "He values his alone time….a lot."

I dropped the conversation obviously Mattie did not want to talk about the guy who had the studio on the third floor.

Matthew lead me into a room filled with paintings that make me stop. I walk up to the label with the artist's name 'Antonio Carriedo'.

"He claims his boyfriend is a salsa dancer, I have yet to believe him," he says. I smile,

"He is a great painter I will give him that," Matthew says. My eyes glance at a painting of a bowl of tomatoes. "…Ok?"

"Ya… he likes them A LOT," Matthew. He says and pulls my arm to the next room filled with charcoal pictures on canvas.

One of them was of a rainy hill side; there was a London train station with people-but no faces and finally the silhouette of a spindly tree, lighted by the stars and the moon.

I look at them and awe. "It's…" but I can't find the words. It's not beautiful, its more than that. "It's, it's….gorgeous."

Matthew looked at them and said "these sell faster than you would think…actually that one there is only for display I sold it five minutes after I opened."

That wasn't surprising they were stunning each charcoal mark shone with equal beauty despite its bleak appearance the drawings shone with an inner radiance.

My eyes were glued to the name under them.

Arthur Kirkland.

"Arthur Kirkland," I whisper, to myself. The name itself was like a song.

Matthew smirked "You've only seen his name yet you already have a crush on him?"

I glared at him Matthew turned back to the drawings he whispered "My little aby brother grew up so fast."

"Mattie!" I whined I knew no one was there but it was still embarrassing I mean 'baby brother' I was taller than him anyway so what if we were a year apart!

I turned to Matthew "Can I meet him?"

"He's a little…socially in adept" he frowned.

"So…no?" I asked.

"You'll probably meet him eventually I mean he is going to be your neighbor" He shrugged.

I followed him upstairs on the way grabbing my backpack as we went up the stairs I heard the soft resounding's of punk music through the halls.

Matthew chuckled embarrassedly "Sorry he's a bit…eccentric."

I wiggled my eyebrows "I like eccentric" Matthew laughed "Whatever Alfred here's your room I'll see you at dinner!" I watched as Matthew walked down the stairs.

I couldn't wait to meet the man called Arthur Kirkland.

Author's Note

Hetalia belongs not to me but the all mighty Hima-Papa!

Hello! If you're reading this story…THANK YOU! Huggles for all!

I would love suggestions and reviews I mean we would love suggestions and reviews my friend and I are both working on this (she goes by Amelia and I go by Akuma if you wanted to know.)

I'll see you all next chapter have a good week!