Disclaimer: I don't own APH or OC!Minnesota.
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Prompt 8: "Runaway"
He ran away from France's house once and it was quite possibly the worst thing that he ever put himself and France through.
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Canada sat awkwardly on Minnesota's unfixed bed, holding his polar bear cub close to his chest. His little brother was stomping around his room, creating an uproar in the small room. The wavy haired boy timidly darted his eyes around the room, a feeling of absolute guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. Minnesota, on the other hand, ripped out the ugly suits that France made him wear all the time from their places in the drawers and promptly threw them on the wooden floor. Tears were still trembling on the sides of his eyes when the scene from only hours before played in his head.
He remember how his body jolted at the first smack across his butt. He could still feel when the hot salty tears trickled down his face as he'd grasped onto the couch cushion for support. The repeating smacks had gone on for what seemed like hours—it was only at Canada's quiet insistence that France released Minnesota. Being set back on his feet, he winced. His father figure had opened his mouth to say something, but Minnesota didn't give him a chance—he used all of his remaining strength to kick the blond – hard – in the shin before running up to the safety of his room.
Canada had followed him closely; he didn't want the boy to do anything that would hurt him. Plus, he felt guilty for not stopping the spanking sooner. Minnesota was only a boy, after all. And while Minnesota shouldn't have made that huge mess in the kitchen, Canada knew how he felt—living with someone you barely knew was an overwhelming feeling. 'You yearn for your old life, yet you don't really want to leave the new life behind,' he thought solemnly to himself. The sound of the boy stomping on the clothes brought him back to reality and he glanced up. "M-Minnesota? What are you doing?"
"The fuck does it look like I'm doin'?" Minnesota snapped bitterly, kicking away the skeleton suits(1) that lay scattered on the ground. "I'm leavin' this place! Fuck France and his ol' pervy punishments!" He added the latter in a shrill voice, hoping that the blond downstairs heard him. Canada gasped and reached out for Minnesota.
"You're going to... to run away? Where are you going to go?" he questioned nervously. Tears glimmered in his softened eyes; Minnesota looked away from his brother, not wanting to stare into those sad orbs. Instead, he grabbed his old pair of moccasins that sat underneath all of the suits and put them. Canada clutched his chest and gently shoved his polar cub off of his lap. "M-Minnesota, you can't be serious. It was just a-a spanking! I've been spanked many times before. And don't cha know that it's a completely different world out there—"
"And it's a world that I grew up knowing, Mathieu," the boy finished abruptly. "And don't cha know that I know where I come from?" The caramel haired Canadian quieted for a moment before attempting to speak up again. Minnesota, in turn, shut him up once more. "I know what I'm doing, Mattie. And I know I ain't takin' this shit again." Canada lowered his eyes. All was quiet in the room once again, the only audible sound was of Minnesota's feet shuffling about and Canada's soft breathing. At long last, the older of the two finally found the right words to say.
"... I see." A soft smile crept on his lips, despite all of the internal emotions he experienced at the moment. "Then, I guess I won't be able to change your mind." Minnesota's eyes widened a bit at the words, but he shook it off. "But... where are you going exactly?" The binoojing shrugged slightly and pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail.
"Wherever the wind takes me, I guess," he muttered quietly, more to himself than anything. The two remained in a long, tense silence. No one wanted to break the ice for several minutes; finally, Minnesota scratched the back of his head and took a deep breath. "I'm leavin' now. Later, Mattie," he said softly before he walked out of the room. He shut the door behind him and sauntered down the stairs lazily, trying to elongate his time in the house. Once he reached the last step, Minnesota got a good view of France leaning onto a couch for support as he nursed his bruising shin.
Minnesota didn't move; he wasn't too sure how mad France was at him. Slowly, courage began building up when Minnesota remembered that it was the blonde who provoked him into doing something violent—he was the one that started it. Straightening his posture, the brunette cleared his throat obnoxiously loud. France glanced over at the stairs with no emotion in his azure eyes. "I'm leaving, so if you'll move..." Minnesota started as he marched towards the door. France tilted his head curiously.
"Where are you going, mon garçon?" The little boy was taken aback by France's dulcet tone, but thought nothing more of it.
"I'm going home," he said crisply, "and there's nothing you can do about it." The quizzical look on the blond's face quickly spiraled into a stunned expression. Minnesota slid past the Frenchman and kept his head lowered, trying to contain a scowl. "I'm gonna go live Sakima again, out in the wilderness—something you wouldn't know nothin' about." Minnesota propped the door open and took a step onto the paved trail. He whirled around to face France one more time, who oddly had a look of surprise on his face. "And if you're gonna try to find, then... good luck, fuck-o!" Minnesota turned on his heels and promptly took off running towards the thick brush that surrounded France's house.
He didn't once stop running, either, and never bothered to look back. With each step, Minnesota was further and further out in unfamiliar territory, despite him having owned the land. His sudden courage dwindled to a small miniscule amount and Minnesota finally slowed to a casual walk after a long bout of sprinting. Although his breathing was heavy, the image of France scolding him using perverse punishments made his tummy bubble in disgust. But, the image of France worrying his curly head off also flashed through his mind, and Minnesota couldn't help but feel contrite. Hastily, he just shrugged it off as nothing more than a temporary emotion.
"To hell with him too," the binoojiing thought fiercely and aloud. "I hope he suffers; he can go jump his stubble ass off a cliff for all I care!" He stopped in his tracks then and crossed his arms in a pout. Deep down in his heart, the territory didn't want to have to leave France in such a predicament, but he couldn't stand being the scapegoat when something was out of order at the house. Leaving was the only rational solution to everyone's problems, Minnesota decided. His heart fell a tad at the truth, but he continued his voyage into the unknown parts of his land.
The sun was at its highest point in the day when he found a large lake to take a rest and bask in the new found warmth that the day had to offer. Slipping off his moccasins, Minnesota dipped his feet into the cool water and shuddered as his feet were enveloped in a pleasantly chilled cage of fluids. He sighed in satisfaction as he rolled his head back. Being back in the wild felt so liberating.
His tranquil moment was disturbed when a muffled crack sounded from behind. Woozy from the déjà vu, Minnesota lethargically looked back towards the moving brush. 'Look, I've been taken away once before, I know how this all works. You say you love me, you'll take care of me, you'll never lay a hand on me, and then all my dreams have turned to shit because you broke your promises. Now go away,' Minnesota prepared in his mind bitterly, readying himself for the possible intruder. Just as he was about to open his mouth to repeat his mental speech, something small and fuzzy crawled out of the green bushes and cautiously crept closer towards him.
Minnesota whipped around all the way and couldn't help but smile at the creature. Everything he thought of saying before disappeared into the back of his mind when the creature came into full sight: it was a black bear cub, wandering about aimlessly. It gave him an impertinent look, but nonetheless, the brunette urged it to come closer. "Mukwa(2)!" Minnesota squeaked in joy and patted the ground in front of him, wanting the bear to sit by him. 'If Canada tamed a polar bear cub, what's the difference in training a black bear?' Minnesota thought naïvely as he reached out to touch the cub.
"That's it, come to your master," Minnesota muttered gently when the fur rubbed against his fingers. "I wonder what your name should be..." As he continued to pet and think of a name for the creature, a crunching of leaves and grass was heard from the forest. Minnesota was lost in his thoughts again, and wouldn't have noticed the sound even if it was breathing on his neck. A growl emitted from the green—at that, the binoojiing stiffened. A large black head peered out of the bushes, its face twisted in anger and blood lust.
Minnesota's chestnut eyes widened at the sight. He gulped audibly. Sakima's voice boomed in his ears in a mocking tone, 'Stay away from a cub, negoosis(3), because its mother never strays far behind.' Minnesota so badly wanted to smack himself for not remembering this important fact. The cub tilted its head before it backed away from the boy. Its mother growled threateningly at Minnesota and slowly crawled out of the brush. Minnesota remembered seeing stars before darkness consumed his thoughts.
-.-
The first thing Minnesota felt was ice. He was encased in wet ice—'Weird, what the hell happened?' He groaned as he barely managed to crack open an eye. The first thing he saw was France. His tresses were tousled and dirty, his face not so much better. His clothes were ripped, and yet, the blond noticed Minnesota's awakening and greeted him with a weak smile. 'H...he's smiling? Even after it looks like he got out of a fight, he's smiling?' Minnesota pondered.
"I've been worse," France answered. His grin only broadened when the little boy in his arms gave him a bewildered stare. "You don't need to worry, mon fils, I only got a bit... shaken up by the bear. I'm more worried about you—you'd fainted from shock of it all and landed in the river. If I hadn't made it here in time-" France shook his head, a softened smile tugging on his bleeding lips. "But I did make it in time, so I guess there's no need to worry about anything anymore."
Minnesota lay still in France's arms, allowing the words to sink in. If he hadn't made it in time, then... Minnesota would've ceased to be a territory? The boy furrowed his brow. 'After everything I said and did to Francis today...and he still comes and saves me?' He stopped thinking and abruptly buried his face in the older nation's chest, wrapping his arms as far as he could around France. Stunned at first, France warmed up right away and held the slightly trembling boy back. No words were spoken, but Minnesota's tears apologized for him. The Frenchman grinned gently as he rubbed the boy's wet hair.
'Mon fils, je te pardonne. Je'taime(4).'
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1 – According to my flawless research, skeleton suits are these really homely one-sy suits that little boys in France used to wear. In fact, they were, at the time, fashionable (These aren't meant to be mixed up with skeleton suits people wear around Halloween)
2 – Ojibwe for "bear"
3 – Ojibwe for "my son." I didn't thoroughly address this when Sakima called Minnesota that a few chapters back, so I figured I'd do it now.
4 – French for 'My son, I forgive you. I love you.'
A/N Rereading this, this was pretty cheesy, but I don't care xD I finally got this finished. This was the hardest chapter to write ;_;