Norway: *tied to a chair in Anna's house* Er... Despite what my current situation might imply, Anna does not own me. Nor does she own Hetalia.

Lukas stared at his father's girlfriend in horror. This was not meant to happen - no good could possibly come from this.

"I see you're home early, Lukas. And who is this - your, er, friend?" Completely unconcealed disgust filled her face, as well as a horrible, twisted smirk.

Might as well get it out there, she's going to do something horrible either way. "Good afternoon, Jemma," Lukas said stiffly, relishing in the clear pain on the revolting woman's face, "This is Matthias. My boyfriend."

"Lovely to meet you, Matthias. Run along, now," Jemma hissed through her teeth, almost shoving the Dane off the sofa and out of the door.

Matthias looked to Lukas for guidance. The Norwegian sighed slightly and made a shooing motion. The tall blonde walked hesitantly out of the flat, glancing back a few times at Lukas.

Now Lukas and Jemma were alone. Magenta lips pursed and Jemma drew closer to where the platinum blonde was perched on the cream furnishings, posture perfect and, to anyone else intimidating.

But, unfortunately for Lukas, his father's bitch wasn't wary of the icy aura he was surrounded by.

"So, Lukas. You're gay." Put it bluntly, why don't you?

"It would appear so. What of it?"

"Don't give me that tone of voice. Hasn't your father ever taught you manners?"

"No. He was always busy with his work and his," Lukas smirked here, "bitches."

Jemma's eyes flashed. It occurred to Lukas that he was basically digging himself an early grave.

"Look here, you little shit," she hissed, "I don't care what you do in your free time. I don't give a fuck what goes on in your life in general. Nor, I believe, does your father. But your he and I most definitely agree on one thing which seems to concern yourself: we will not tolerate - homosexuality - in this house." She spat the word 'homosexuality' like a curse.

Lukas knew what was coming. He'd known it all along, really. Well, for as long as he'd known which way he swung. So he decided to enjoy this while he could. "It's more of a flat, really. Not a house."

A pencilled-on eyebrow twitched in anger. The woman seemed to increase in size in her fury, and she took another step closer to Lukas, who was now examining his nails, ankles crossed and generally looking rather relaxed. He'd always been a good actor.

"I was going to make this easy for you. I was going to give you a choice. Either I could tell your father - and we both know what would come of that - or you could cooperate with me. But now, I think I'll alter that slightly. I think I'll just tell your father, yes?"

Lukas shrugged. "You do that. I don't particularly care, to be honest." He then rose from his seat and stalked towards his room, shutting and locking his door behind him.

Once inside, he grabbed his bags - which he had barely unpacked since they had moved - and threw everything into them with a shaking hand. Once his father found out, that was it. Au revoir, don't bother to send a postcard. He would most likely be disowned - it wouldn't do for my father to be associated with the lowest of the low, now would it? His thoughts bitter and painful, Lukas threw his clothes into his bags. Then his laptop, his skates, his ski gear, even his phone... All of this he had paid for from his own money. He couldn't remember the last time his father bought him something that wasn't an overly expensive watch he wouldn't be seen dead wearing (his eighteenth birthday present: a disgusting, distasteful watch that had a four-figure price tag and made a certain Canadian shiver, which in turn caused a certain albino to snigger and receive a smack round the head from the former), a soulless flat, a prestigious education or a one-way ticket to obscurity that, in his father's opinion, shouldn't be temporary.

It sort of hurt to know that the only parental figure he had left was so indifferent to his life. Then again, he always knew he wasn't really important to his father - really, he was only an extra burden to worry about, or in some cases, a trophy to mention in passing at the table when dining with rich and famous colleagues. 'Oh yes, my eldest - goes by Lukas Bondevik, you know - is rather interested in skiing, you may have heard of him?' That was all he was - a name to drop, and now he wasn't even that. Not that he cared - not in the slightest. He was just a little bitter about the whole affair. After all, hadn't his father promised his mother to love him like she did? To say that that particular promise had been broken would be an understatement.

But he didn't care.

Not at all.

Once his possessions had been thrown into his satchel and sports bag, Lukas snuck silently out of the apartment, being careful to avoid the yellow-haired devil painting her lips and nails a bright red in the kitchen. He shut the door behind him as quietly as he could manage, then quickly ran down the stairs and out of the building. Even if Jemma had heard him and taken the lift, she wouldn't have been able to keep up with him. Sometimes, there really were great benefits to having sport as one's career, hobby and passion.

He stopped when he wasn't able to recognise the area anymore, and pulled out his phone. Tapping the contact that came first to him, he put it to his ear.

"Hello? Lukas?"

.:.

"Hello? Lukas?" When there was no answer, Matthias checked the caller ID. He hadn't bothered to before, as he had set Lukas' ringtone as What Does The Fox Say. (Well, the artists are Norwegian. And so is Lukas. So... It kind of made sense.) Yes, it was definitely the Norwegian calling him. That contact picture was too cute... At the time he had taken it, Lukas was in a heated discussion with Matthew over whether skating or skiing was better - he was, therefore, flushed with annoyance and pouting slightly. So adorable.

When there was still no reply from the Norwegian, Matthias opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off.

"H-hey... Would you mind if I came over for a while?"

Matthias shook his head, but then remembered that Lukas couldn't see him. "No, I don't mind - what's happened? Who was that woman? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just - a little shaken, perhaps. I'll explain when I come over."

"Okay... You know where I live, right?"

"Matthias. How many times have I been dragged to your house with Gilbert and Matthew after skiing for a glass of what must be the unhealthiest drink in the whole of Scandinavia - and that's just going by the colour. I swear, Jones ate better than you do - and he's American." The shakiness dissipated a little from Lukas' voice, his tone considerably closer to its usual dry monotone.

"So... I'm guessing you don't need me to give you directions."

Lukas just sighed exasperatedly, and Matthias grinned. "Right, well, have you had lunch?"

"No. I wasn't hungry."

"I'll get something, then. I know you don't like the kind of food I do, but is fish or something okay?"

"Don't. Please. I'm not hungry, and I can eat later."

"Are you sure? I don't mind..."

"I'm sure, I'll be over in a minute. See you then."

"Yeah... See you, Lukas," Matthias said hesitantly. The Norwegian didn't sound fine, or whatever he said he was...

A few streets always, Lukas slipped his phone back into his pocket and sank down to sit on his bags for a second. He ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, and shivered a little. His eyes closed, he sighed and the tears began to flow.

A/N

I was happily reading fanfiction, then heard my iPod notifying me of something and so I picked up and turned it on. Of course, it then showed me the date and time, and so all one could hear coming from my room was (loud Russian rock music and) the words, "SHIT! It's Friday! Bloody - ugh - dieu - aaarrrrggghh!" For you see, I am ALWAYS a chapter ahead. I am currently around two hundred words off completing Chapter 14. You see my problem? I still haven't actually found out what exactly my iPod was notifying me of - I threw it somewhere and have been on my tablet since.

Anyway, my apologies for this chapter. Seriously, the summary of it would be, "Matthias goes home, Lukas runs away, Matthias is motherly, Lukas cries." Uggghhhh.

Oh, and before I forget AGAIN, I meant to mention in the last chapter that I have completely disregarded any differences between the Danish and English education systems. I'm sorry about this, but I can barely get my head around the English one, and I have a teacher for a mother. So if I tried to understand another one, I would completely mess it up. So let's just say that they all go to English-style schools, even though they probably don't exist, because almost everything education-related in England is corrupt. Actually, almost everything politics-related in England is corrupt. In my opinion, anyway.

Er... Sorry about the rant and horribly long author's note. Again. Review? You know I love them... And it's very likely that I will reply... I love talking with you all!