Disclaimer: No matter how many tantrums I have these characters will never belong to me.

All notes coming now so I don't spoil the mood at the end. This is my first time writing anything like this, but I don't want you to go easy on me- I would like proper feedback please, all the bad and all the good. And all the little bits in between.

Warning: Abuse, Yoai, if you don't' like it there is a little back button up there – I suggest you click it.

A hand slapped across Ron's already sensitive cheek.

"You useless bastard, you can't do a thing! Failed your OWL's! You're almost as disgusting as Fred and George! You scum! You disgusting slime!"

A fist to his stomach, a belt to his back.

"You faggot, you vile faggot. I'm ashamed to call you my son!"

"I'm ashamed to call you my father!"

"You ungrateful brat!" Ron felt hands on his chest, launching him off his feet. Falling falling, he heard a sharp crack and felt a searing pain as he hit the bottom step.

"I raised all your brothers well. All except you," a kick earning another crack, "I don't know what went wrong. You can't play Quidditch, can't pass exams, and has no interest in anything except acting like a slut. You man whore! You repulsive faggot!"

Ron stumbled to his feet, "I love him Dad!" he screamed, tears streaming from his face.

"No, you don't!" shrieked Arthur hysterically, punctuating each word with a new blow.

"Why not, Dad?" whispered Ron, after his father had finished.

"Because it's unnatural!" screamed Arthur, going purple in the face and charging at Ron, "You are not my son. YOU ARE NOT MY SON!"

Arthur grabbed hold of Ron's neck and pinned him to the wall.

Ron's vision began to swim as the oxygen was cut off. His eyes popping out of his head, he pleaded noiselessly for his father to stop. But his father's anger could be seen bubbling on his skin, his temple pulsating, like a grotesque monster underneath his skin, eyes bulging out of his head, teeth clamped shut, puffing out his cheeks for breath.

"Dad – let go," Ron wheezed, bile rising in his throat from the pressure.

Arthur pulled Ron off the wall and banged his head against the window, smashing the glass.

Ron felt warm hot blood trickle down the back of his neck as cold hard glass slashed at his scalp.

Arthur held him, bending him backwards out the window. Just holding on.

"Dad! Dad! I'm going to fall, stop it! Please! Please! This is the second floor," shouted Ron hoarsely, tears sliding back to mix with the blood dripping from his head.

"You sickening, repulsive slut!" shouted Arthur, spit spraying from his mouth over mingling with Ron's sordid mixture of blood and tears.

"I'm not a slut!" shouted Ron franticly trying to grab something, anything to hold on to.

"Get out of my house," said Arthur, his temple calming to a steady beat, his face turning white, "I never want to see you again."

Arthur lifted his hand from Ron's neck, turned and walked away.

Ron's fall seemed to take forever, but in reality it only lasted a few seconds.

Wind rushing past, the ground speeding toward him.

Ron landed and heard a nauseating snap come from his left side.

His vision rotated, back, forward, back and forward.

Ron could see his lover's face spinning before his eyes.

"You'll never know," Ron's voice broke as he whispered to his imagination.

He grinned inanely, wincing in pain.

"I love you Draco," he whispered through his cracked lips, as his vision faded into blackness.