Hi peoples!! And welcome to my first Gakuen Heaven fic! Well, ok, I do have a cross over out, but this is my first Gakuen Heaven only fic!! I'm really excited about the one, because it features my absolute favorite couple!! Shinomiya and Iwai!! KYAH!!! *passes out*

Umm...Yeah, please forgive my fangirl spaz moment there. I tend to get a tiny bit carried away when it comes to bishies in love with one another...

Anyway, on with the fic!! Enjoy! XD

Warning: This first chapter contains strong language and child abuse, and the fic on the whole will include much bishie x bishie romance. No like, no read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Heaven or any of the characters within. If I did, Shinomiya and Iwai would have gotten a LOT more screen time.

The small boy screamed as the extension cord was brought down hard across his back, easily slicing through the pale white flesh. Down it came again and again, each time carving a new, bloody path into his skin. Really, you think he would have learned by now not to scream. Screaming only means more beatings, more whippings. After all, he likes the screams.

Only after the ninth or tenth lash did the boy finally manage to suppress his shriek of pain, and he almost sobbed in relief at the sound of the chord being dropped to the floor. Now all that was left was the beating, and he could handle that. He could...

All his thoughts, as well as his breath, left him immediately as a booted foot delivered a sharp kick to his ribs, knocking him on to his back and forcing him to bite his lip hard in order to keep from crying out as pain seared through the newly formed gashes.

The boy had no time to regain his breath as the first kick was quickly followed by another, this time to his head. His head spun as he saw stars dance before his eyes. He only barely registered that his tormentor had begun to speak, but the words he did hear hurt almost as bad as the sharp kicks that accompanied them.

"You stupid brat!! Can't you do anything right?! I told you to do one simple thing: go to the corner store and get me a pack of cigs, and you can't even do that right! What the hell are you even good for, anyway? Worthless little shit..."

The boy silently took the brutal beating without a word. Words only made it worse. So what if it wasn't his fault? So what if the reason he hadn't been able to buy his father's cigarettes was because the cashier knew he was too young to buy them? He was only nine, after all.

But his father wouldn't see any of that. To him, it would always be the boy's fault, no matter what. So why even bother?

When the vicious kicks and blows stopped raining down on him, the boy slowly lifted his head. Instead of feeling relief, however, all the boy felt was dread. The beating had stopped much earlier than usual, and his father never stopped short when it came to "disciplining" his son. Never.

The dread quickly morphed into terror as the boy realized what had drawn his father's attention away. A spiral bound sketchbook, which the boy had so carefully hidden away in his desk, had apparently been dislodged when his father had yanked the lamp cord from the wall in order to beat him.

"What the hell is this?!" His father demanded, turning back to the boy. The child felt his body begin to tremble, but he remained silent. "I thought I told you I didn't want you doodling this crap anymore! I told you art isn't going to get you anywhere in the real world!"

In reality, however, that was far from the truth. The boy was so brilliant when it came to art, one might even say he was a child prodigy. He had already mastered several mediums, including pencil, charcoal, and water color paints by the age of eight, and now, at the nine, he was working on mastering even more.

But in all honesty, none of that mattered to the boy. He didn't care how talented he was, or how much money he could make of his art. No, loved art for a much more basic, fundamental reason.

It was his escape.

Through his art, the boy was able to truly escape from his life, his circumstances, himself. While he created some beautiful masterpiece on canvas or paper, he could forget about himself, his father, and the world around him. It was just his art and his vision. Should he lose that...well, the boy could not even think about it. It was too painful

"B-But father," the boy whispered, speaking for the first time, "My teacher said I have enough to talent to—,"

"I don't give a shit what your teacher said! And neither should you! You listen to what I say above all else! You do not disobey me!"

The man stopped yelling for a moment and looked at the sketchbook in his hands, almost as if he were examining it. Then he smiled, and the boy had never felt more terrified.

"Maybe this is why you can't seem to do anything right lately. You're too distracted by all this art shit," His smile widened as he slowly walked to the back of the room, where the fire place was located. "Well, I think I have a way to remedy that."

And before the boy could do anything to stop him, his father threw the sketchbook.

Into.

The.

Fire.

The boy screamed and, ignoring the pain that every movement caused him, ran over to the fire place to try and salvage his sketchbook. His efforts were immediately put to an end, however, when a hard punch was delivered right to his bruised and broken ribs, causing him to fall to the floor in breathless agony.

The tall man knelt down and roughly grasped the boy's bruised face in his hands. Smiling, he whispered in the boy's ear, "Maybe this will teach never to disobey me again, you little bitch."

The boy was only dimly aware of what his father said, just as he was only dimly aware of when he left the room. None of that mattered anymore. None of it. Not the pain in his body, not the blood matted in his silver-blonde hair, not even the ragged, still-bleeding wounds on his back. Nothing mattered .

Tears filled the boy's large, amber colored eyes as he watched his only escape slowly be burned to ash in the fire.

Well, there you have it! Chapter 1!! I really hope you liked it, and if you did (or even if you didn't) please please please please please PLEASE review!! Those of you who have read any of my other stories know what a major review junkie I am, so if you wish to avoid severe mental (as well as physical) trauma, I suggest you give me my fix!!!

Ta ta for now!

~Neko-chan~