Possible title: Preferences

Everyone has their preferences. With everything in life, they have their own opinions. They may like girls, or boys better. They may rather have no friends, one best friend, a few close friends, or a bunch of friends that they don't even really like. Some only want money and to live richly, while some would rather live struggling as long as the ones they love were close.

I, on the other hand, have never had a preference for anything. I didn't mind girls or boys; I've never really had friends, so I didn't know if it was better to have them than none at all, and I wasn't sure if I'd rather have money or still be a struggling homeless teenager. The only thing I knew that I ever wanted was to not be taken care of, like my brother and grandfather did and still does. I lived on the streets for 17 years, so why should the past two years of my life be any different? Even though my nonno paid good money to them, I'm sure the help didn't want to have to serve some spoiled brats. I always handled myself before; I wouldn't just let a bunch of random people take care of me now. So I cleaned up after myself, cooked for myself -most of the time-, and did things my own way.

My family has always lived opposite of me—they were surrounded with nice, warm clothes in winter, stomachs full of food instead of painfully empty. Everything I never had. Abandoned by my parents when I was a newborn, I was forced to live on the streets. I'd seen some horrible things, done horrible things, had horrible things done to me, and everyone treated me like the trash I was. I was always getting into fights with other street rats for food that was past expired, but didn't care. Now I'm forced to eat fancy foods and supposed to wear expensive clothing all because my grandfather and brother had finally found out I was alive. I didn't like living like this. Not one bit.

I stared down at the French dish in front of me until I felt disgusted with myself for being so proper. So many questions raced through my head. Why did I start living here if I didn't want to live this way? Why did my parents abandon me and not my fratello (of course I didn't want my brother to have to live on the streets, but just, why me?)? And why the fuck are we eating French food on porcelain dishes from China if we live in Italy?

I snap out of my thoughts when my name is spoken. "Are you alright, Lovino?" Nonno asked with worried eyes. Not the worry that he had when he first saw me as his grandson and saw how bad I was doing, but still some worry. I probably had a stupid look on my face. I was just getting so pissed off at the fact that I'm acting like some little prissy bitch with all this proper food and clothing all of the sudden!

"Fucking fantastic," I growled.

"Fratello!" Feliciano gasped at the swear word.

I set my fork down beside the plate of food and stand. "Excuse me," As much as I hated being proper I was still polite… sometimes.

"You're excused, but would you mind telling me where it is you're going?" I slipped on my black trench coat over my black pullover, two things my grandfather did not approve of since I "wear too much black".

"Out," I answered coldly. It wasn't his fault that I was getting mad, but if I didn't leave soon I'd let my anger get the best of me and blow up on everyone. Then Feliciano starts his annoying fucking whine-cry and Nonno gives me a talk about how he'll set up anger management therapy for me which always makes me shut up and storm off. He never does, which is good because if he did I'd kill him then I'd kill the therapist.

It was snowing lightly out and the streets were covered with sheets of ice. Whenever it snowed, no matter how many people were making noise, I was able to shut out everything. All I heard was the steady beats of my heart and the snow crushing under my shoes. Winter is the only time I can feel peaceful. I don't really understand how though, since winter was always the time when I felt closest to death. No, that's exactly why I felt peaceful. I was close to ending the struggle. I don't have to deal with dying in winter from hypothermia or disease anymore though, so I just kept the feeling of peace with winter even after I wasn't homeless.

Everything always brings you back to the thought of being homeless, why is that? Why is it that even though you live in luxury, you're rid of your diseases, and you have a family to love you, you can't get the thought of being on the streets out of your stupid fucking head?, the annoying voice in my head questioned.

"Because I don't deserve all of this, I shouldn't be treated this nicely…" I whispered to myself, trailing off and hearing more questions from my conscious. I answer almost every one of them with a small whisper while walking to town with my head down. It's a good thing I left the house because a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Hola amigo, are you okay?" A Spanish accent whispered from somewhere. A Spanish accent? Last time I heard the voice asking me questions it wasn't Spanish…

A hand was placed on my shoulder and made me jump. I turned my head and saw a tall man standing beside me.

"Get the fuck off me, you pervert!" I smacked his hand away. Once I took in his appearance my heart sunk. He was wearing old, dirty shorts and a grey sweatshirt covered in dirt. His hair was disheveled and long, he obviously hadn't had it cut in a very long time. He had a large bruise on his cheek and looked tired. It was like looking back at the old me… except he's a lot more handsome.

"O-Oh, I'm very sorry! I just saw you crying and I thought maybe you were lost or something? You seem too young to be out here all alone this late," His eyes were wide, and so, so green. If I knew any better I'd say he was wearing fake colored contacts, but I figured he didn't since he seems to be barely able to afford clothes. They were just so green.

"I'm 19. I can stay out as late as I want." I stated matter-of-factly. He studied my face properly.

"Really? You look no older than 13!" He smiled with a bright white smile. Everything else on him was dirty, but his teeth were perfect. Odd…

"It's 'cause I was crying, you stupid bastard!" I said angrily. 13!? How could someone mistake me for being a 13-year-old!? I know I was short, and barely have a build at all, but I looked at least 17! If people can mistake me for 13, I wonder how old they'd think Feliciano was.

"Sorry. Are you alright though?" He asks again. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know him. He could be some rapist pervert for all I know. Plus, I didn't know if he even needed help. Some people act like beggars so that people take pity on them and give them money, then the so called 'beggar' goes back to their nice little house with their money and leave the people who really need the money helpless. I've witnessed it before. It's hard to trust those on the streets. Hell, I used to steal food and pick-pocket others. How did I know he wouldn't do the same? It's just that his smile was so kind, so genuine. I shook the thought out of my head.

"Yes. I'm good," I answered flatly.

"Okay… well be careful getting wherever you have to go! It's scary being out in the dark like this. Take care!" He gave a kind smile.

"Yeah, you too," I faintly whispered. With that he strolled off. What a strange boy.

I went into town and walked a big circle until I reached the house again. I opened the door and cleaned my shoes then kicked them off. I took off my coat, basically threw the thing in that closet, and I rubbed my hands together for warmth of the friction as I walked up to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror to see my usual pale skin red on my cheeks and nose. I quickly stripped and took a long, warm shower.

When I got out of the shower I wrapped an extremely big towel around my entire body and went in my room. I only put on an oversized shirt, my boxers, and flopped myself onto the bed. I got under the covers for warmth and just as I was falling asleep I couldn't help but wonder about that boy from earlier. If he really was just a regular pick-pocket/scammer, he won't be back to that part of town again. Every scammer knew that rule, even the new ones. So if he really was homeless, he might still be there tomorrow. It'll be easy leaving the house to go see. I had a strong feeling about that boy, and I wanted to help him, but I still can't figure out why.

Hi! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction and I'm sorry it's kind of boring and crappy but it should get better in the next couple of chapters. Review and tell me what you think of it so far, yeah? Byee!