Author's Note: The story is set in Stockholm, but may not be entirely accurate in terms of services, manner of speech, etc. Please correct me, if needed. I will take constructive critisism. I apologize for grammatical errors. The story will be updated as frequently as possible.

WARNINGS: OOC, MILD LANGUAGE, ALCOHOL, MISTREATMENT

This story is based off of Annie (the modern adaptation).

…

Peter rode the lime-green rental bike down the busy streets of Stockholm, making his way down to the tiny, crowded apartment where he was being fostered.

He saw the familiar outline of the small, but charming café that Francis owned. The Frenchman had taken a liking to the boy, after he was abandoned on the front stairs as a toddler. Francis also fancied Peter's foster parent Arthur, but Peter had never understood why. Arthur was a foul-mouthed drunk that only fostered children for money.

He dismounted the bicycle, placing it in the rental bike rack before stepping up the stairs to the café. Francis greeted him outside, package in hand. "Did they come?" Peter asked, his eyes pleading for an answer. The man sighed and shook his head. "I told you mon petit garçon, that if I were to see your parents, I would tell you right away."

Peter looked down at his shoes for a moment, before looking up into Francis's indigo eyes, and smiled. "I figured. But they'll be coming back for me. I'm sure of it!"

Francis doubted that, but promised himself that he wouldn't tell Peter that, seeing how hopeful he was.

The Frenchman was pulled from his thoughts when the youth called out to him. "Hey Francis, can I take this?" Peter was holding out a grey plastic bucket with a single rose hanging out the side.

Francis nodded, and walked down the steps, over to where the child was standing. He held out the package and winked. "Make sure that rose gets to my love!" Peter rolled his eyes and waved to the adult, before sprinting across the road, towards that godforsaken apartment.

…

Peter stood atop the overturned bucket and wrenched down the ladder that led to the apartment window. He clambered up the rungs, and tried to discreetly climb through the window. "Busted!" An unkind voice hissed at him. Arthur had caught him.

Peter glared defiantly towards his guardian, raising his chin up slightly. Arthur may have been cruel and unforgiving, but his appearance was nothing short of ridiculous. Unruly, greasy blonde hair, short and skinny, and finally, monsterous eyebrows resembling fat caterpillars. Peter had thick eyebrows, but this man's made his seem thin.

Arthur stumbled over, shoving his face up next to the child's. The reek of alcohol on his breath, and a cold look present in his evergreen eyes. "Sneaking out, were ya?" He seethed. "It's dangerous for brats like ya to be runnin' round in the night. Ya might get kidnapped, not that I would give a damn."

Peter ignored his comments. Having had this same talk numerous times, its intimidating nature no longer fazed him. Arthur was just drunk, and was all talk. He tried to step past the drunkard, but Arthur blocked him, slamming a hand on the wall next to Peter. At least he tried to. He slipped on a stray pencil, and collapsed onto the hardwood floor, promptly passing out.

Peter walked around Arthur's sleeping form, and crossed the hall to the bedroom he shared with the other six. He bowed in a extravagant, exaggerated fashion, as the other boys clapped and laughed. All except Lovino and Emil, who were engrossed in a game of chess. The chess board was really just a piece of cardboard, with paper clippings as pieces, but everyone used the makeshift board, as it was really the only tangible form of entertainment.

Peter tossed his backpack onto the bottom bunk of the bed he shared with Erland, a hot-tempered redhead and the only one born in Sweden. Erland smirked down at Peter from the top bunk, and laughed. "The warlock caught you didn't he?" "He tried to. If it were you, you've been long dead." Peter retaliated, sticking his tongue out. Erland scowled, rolling onto his side.

Peter watched the rest of the chess game, watching as Lovino let his guard down, letting Emil put his king in check. Lovino stomped away, grumbling to himself. Emil packed up the game, placing it in a cardboard box.

Peter was almost always happy when the seven of them were alone in the room together. Him, Emil, Lovino, Feliciano, Erland, Yong-Soo and Matthew. They each had their own stories, and compared to a few of them, Peter thought that maybe his own wasn't so bad. Emil and his older brother were kicked out of the house for being homosexual, but his brother hadn't been able to take care of him. Lovino and Feliciano were cut off from their family for having small curls of hair that when touched, caused a most unspeakable reaction. Erland ran away. Yong-Soo also left home. Matthew, in Peter's opinion, had the worst tale to tell. His family had become so absorbed within Matthew's seemingly perfect elder brother, that they had forgotten about him.

Feliciano sprung upon Peter's bed and whispered. "Please read your letter again!"

Peter tugged out the wrinkled, time-worn paper. "Written on a paper from La Vie en Rose cafe: 'This is our darling son Peter, who we are unable to take care of at the moment. We will return for him once we get back on our feet. His birthday is on 9/2/07, and can already walk, and use the toilet.

We trust that someone other than ourselves can give him a life that we couldn't, and only God knows what would happen if we had decided to keep him.'

"They ordered three salted carmel macaroons, and left them with me on Friday, September third, 2010."

Feliciano smiled at Peter. "It must be nice to have hope that someone still might come back for you." Despite being fourteen, Feliciano still acted very much like a child. Peter used to wonder if he was overcompensating for Lovino, who acted like something akin to a grumpy old man.

Matthew held a hand out to the golden-eyed Italian teen, and led him to his bed, tucking him in. Feliciano had a talent for falling asleep almost instantly. Seeing him sleep so peacefully gave everyone the idea that they should all sleep as well, as it was getting quite late.

Peter fell asleep later than his roomates, thinking, that maybe those parents who left him weren't actually real.

…

There's a first chapter done! 'Peter' may have a sequel, but it really depends how I'm feeling when this story is done.