A/N: Hey! This is my first time uploading fanfiction here, so please don't be too cruel if you decide to review it XD Anyway, this fanfiction will be Frying Pangle-centric, but with lots of other characters and pairings, I've listed all my Hetalia ships on my profile page.

Warnings: Swearing; polyamorous relationship; male and female homosexuality(that shouldn't even be a warning, but someone's bound to complain otherwise ^^'); incest; mentions of rape/sexual abuse; alcohol use etc.

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of the Hetalia characters belong to me :(

Antonio stared outside through the pouring rain and then back at his watch. 17:11. He frowned and went back to trying to get a clear view of the world outside of his house.

Gilbert was seriously late, the lunchtime he had planned to catch up with his old friend had passed and at three o'clock he had gloomily eaten by himself. On any other day he would have eaten with Francis or Lovino, but Lovino was spending the day convincing his brother not to move in with Ludwig and Francis was far too hung over to do anything, but that was hardly anything new…

Lost in his thoughts, Antonio failed to notice exactly what he'd been searching for until a flash of red caught his eye right by the window. Startled, he ran to the door and for the first time that whole day he actually began to feel nervous, he hadn't seen Gilbert for years, eight in fact, holy shit, had it been that long already?

He began to imagine in his head what Gilbert might look like now, had he changed his hair from that blinding white he had always been teased about in school? Or maybe he wore glasses now, that would be a laugh! Or maybe he had even gotten fat! As the doorbell rang, Antonio cursed his thoughts for once again going off on a tangent and fiddled with the dodgy lock on the door and opened it to reveal his old friend.

But for all the many things that Antonio could have imagined had happened to Gilbert, he could never quite have comprehended that Gilbert would look exactly the fucking same. Sure, his hair was sopping wet(why the hell hadn't he brought an umbrella?) and there was something missing in his eyes but other than that he looked like the rough teenage boy who thought himself too awesome for words, with that ridiculous bird still perched on his unruly white hair.

Gilbert looked up at him – whoa, Antonio had forgotten how red those eyes were – and grinned, "Yo".

Antonio couldn't help himself, he grinned back, "Yo, welcome home man." And he stood back to let Gilbert in.

It was only now that Antonio realised Gilbert didn't have any luggage. Well, he had a small backpack slung over his shoulder, but surely he had more belongings than that? Back in secondary school, Gilbert had loved to collect stuff, apparently to make his room look sufficiently awesome. Antonio could also recall that Gilbert rarely bought these things, stealing had been a favourite game for he, Francis and Gilbert, not that he was proud of doing so now.

"Ain'tcha got any luggage?" he asked.

Gilbert pulled the bag off his shoulder and lifted it up, "I got this"

"Nothin' else?"

"Nah, just this"

Antonio shrugged and strolled into the kitchen, "You hungry?" He shouted through to Gilbert. Gilbert strolled in after him, "Sure, what are you planning to cook?"

"Pasta or something?"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, "Pasta?"

"Yeah, I eat a lot of it now, 'cause Lovi and his brother really like it"

Another grin spread across Gilbert's face, but there was something missing from it, it was something that had happened during their last couple of years at school too, but Antonio chose not to dwell on it now and instead focus on answering Gilbert's teasing question, "And who's Lovi?"

He was just opening his mouth to respond when Gilbert interrupted, "Scrap that last question, how old is Lovi?"

Antonio laughed as he poured boiling water into the pan, "You know me far too well. He's actually twenty-two; I'm quite impressed with myself." He'd gotten into quite a bit of trouble at school because he was accused of getting a little too close to the younger students.

Gilbert just nodded at that, but he looked uncomfortable, his arms were drawn across his chest and he was slouched over, the cockiness from his youth seemed to have faded. Maybe he'd changed more than Antonio had originally believed.

There was silence for a couple of minutes before Gilbert blurted, "Isn't Francis living with you?"

"Yeah, but he went out drinking with some friends last night, and I think it got pretty insane, he's not feeling so good. I could try and drag him outta his slumber if ya want."

"It's cool, you finish cooking, I'll get him. Where's his room?"

"It's downstairs, across the hallway, you can tell which it is 'cause of the weird posters on his door."

Antonio watched his friend go and frowned, he wanted to ask him what was wrong, because it was obvious from his attitude and Ludwig's letter that everything was certainly not right. But Ludwig had also insisted that he not ask Gilbert too many questions. He had rang Ludwig after that to ask what was up, but from his vague answers he wondered whether Ludwig even knew what was up with his brother.

Eventually, when they were all sat round the table, Francis complaining about how he had been woken by having Gilbird repeatedly peck his eye, Antonio decided he may as well try to get something out of him.

"So, where ya been all this time? You just left without saying a word, it's like ya just disappeared off the face of the planet."

Gilbert looked down, "I was…with someone for a long time, too long." He paused briefly. "I felt like it was time to move on."

Francis laughed, "Too long indeed! Imagine only sleeping with one person for eight years?"

Gillbert looked increasingly as if he didn't want to be there. Antonio frowned again, his answer had sounded practised and it hadn't been entirely helpful, but Gilbert didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it right now. He decided to change the subject, maybe he would manage to wheedle something out of him by talking generally.

"Anyway, Lovino might be coming round tonight or tomorrow, he seems to have a thing against Germans but ya never know, he might like you."

"Pffft. Probably, I'm freaking awesome."

Francis grinned, "That is the first time I 'ave 'eard you say 'awesome' since I woke up. It's good to know you 'aven't changed!"

A smile broke out on Gilbert's face, "Neither have you! I dread to think how many people you've fucked since I last saw you."

"Ah, I 'ave lost count, whilst Antonio 'as actually managed to find 'imself a stable boyfriend…and a very unpleasant one at that," He added quietly.

"Hey! He's not unpleasant, he's just…shy!"

"'e is not shy!"

Gilbert suddenly stood up, Francis and Antonio quit their pointless argument to look at him, "I, uh, I'm going to bed, early night. I'll see you guys in the morning." And with that he walked out of the room.

Francis waited until he was sure Gilbert was out of earshot before he turned back to Antonio, "What ze 'ell 'appened to 'im?"

"I dunno, but he doesn't seem himself at all."

"You can say zat again! And when I tried to 'ug 'im, 'e completely freaked out."

"And he's so skinny, he looks like he hasn't eaten in months."

"And he didn't ask for a beer even onc-" Francis stopped midsentence,

realising Gilbert had returned to the doorway, he looked angry, "Oh no!" Gilbert said, "Don't let me interrupt you! Carry on listing every fucking thing that's wrong with me, carry on talking about just how fucking imperfect I am!"

A dead silence fell over the room, broken only by Gilbert's ragged breathing. After what seemed like forever, Antonio spoke up, "Gil, you know we didn't mean that, we're just worried about you."

"Well don't be." He shot back "I'm fine, okay?" He stormed back upstairs. Francis and Antonio glanced at each other, then ate the rest of their dinner in silence.

Gilbert glanced around his new room; it was pretty big and was dominated by a double bed with a plain quilt lying on top of it. He slumped down on the bed and closed his eyes. He'd lashed out, already. He couldn't believe himself, they had been kind enough to take him in…but who were they to say things about him behind his back?

He lay there for a few minutes before getting up to look at himself in the mirror on the wall, he hadn't really registered how skinny he was, but now that he thought about it, the skin on his face seemed to be clinging to his bones and the first proper meal he'd eaten in years was the one that Ludwig had cooked him when he'd stumbled over his doorway the week before. It had been raining on that day too; it was English springtime after all…

Ivan had been gone for about an hour, Gilbert prayed that he'd be gone for at least one more to give him time, not that he would even notice Gilbert was missing straight away anyway, ever since he'd started the therapy sessions he'd been neglecting him completely. Gilbert was thankful, it was far better than what he had had to endure before at any cost.

He reached a shaking hand out to his door and pulled. It wasn't locked. Thank God. Quietly as he could, he crept downstairs, no one else was in the house but it seemed almost as if the walls were suspicious of him, that they knew what he was about to do. He went into the kitchen and lifted the vase of sunflowers that sat by the sink, there was a key to the front door there, he knew, he had tried to use it before, very early on when he still had the strength to try to escape. Ivan had never moved the key, he had had other methods of keeping Gilbert from escaping, he seemed to have found it amusing watching him try and fail.

Eventually he dragged himself to the front door and shakily put the key in the lock, he wasn't even sure why there was such a lock on the inside, the Russian bastard was fucked up though, nothing in his house was particularly normal. Opening the door seemed strange, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been allowed to go outside and he almost felt too scared to leave, he turned back to the house. Would he miss it? Never. He spat on the floor and stormed outside, allowing the door to slam behind him.

At once it started raining, a drop landed on Gilbert's nose, it felt cool, refreshing. When was the last time he had even felt the rain on his skin? It felt like a lifetime ago. And right now, it felt like heaven. He laughed, actually laughed, it sounded so strange and his voice was hoarse from its recent lack of use. He would have stayed right there for hours, would have just lay down and let the rain wash away all of the dirt, all of the memories, if he had not wanted to get away so desperately, so he ploughed on, he knew where to go, to his old home, maybe his Father and Brother still lived there, maybe they'd still remember who he was.

He couldn't believe he could recall the way; it had been the day before his long imprisonment with Ivan that he had last walked these roads but his whole body yearned for home and that force seemed to pull him along.

Looking around, mostly in fear that Ivan had already noticed his disappearance and was following him, he noticed how much everything had changed in the past eight years, the fish and chip shop he had so loved to go to with Francis and Antonio was now a pizza place and the park he had played in as a boy now had new swings, event the tree that he had always teased the boy with the violin about because he couldn't climb it had been cut down.

He also couldn't help noticing how people stared at him, he must have looked dreadful. He hadn't had a wash in weeks, and he'd been wearing the same clothes for days, they were old ones Ivan had bought him a long time ago, cheap and probably Russian-made. His hair had grown quite long too, and seriously unruly, cutting it was one of the first things he planned to do when he got home.

Soon enough he had reached the road he had lived on for the first eighteen years of his life. His home. He ran the last stretch, he wasn't sure how, he was so tired and so fucking weak but some new energy seemed to burst into him when he realised just how close he was to freedom.

But when he got to the front door a new wave of fear washed over him, what the hell had he done? Surely Ivan would notice…but what could he do now?

He sighed and turned back to his house, it freaked him out quickly he had gotten there, he had lived so close to everyone he knew, yet he had spoken a word to them in almost a decade. Had his family ever passed the house that he had been stuck in? Had they ever thought to ask around on the day he went missing, to see if anyone had seen him?

He shook those thoughts out of his head and banged on the door, hoping that his Father still lived there, but he could have moved, and maybe someone Ivan knew lived here now. That made him stop, but the damage was done, he had already knocked.

He almost ran again but the door was already opening and a young man stood there, it certainly wasn't his Father, he'd be almost fifty now, and the man stood before him was nowhere near that age. For a moment, he was sure they'd moved, but then it dawned on him, eight years was a long time, especially for a child, a lot could change. That was when he realised who the man standing in front of him, barely a metre away, was. It was his little brother. It was Ludwig.

His own confusion showed up on his brother's face at first as well, but then his blue eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Is that…Is…what the…"

"Ludwig" Gilbert croaked, "Can I come in?"

"Gilbert? Shit, I thought you were dead."

Suddenly, the tiredness seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks, even with the journey home not being a long way, the most he had walked before in recent year had been scarcely a few metres, his body simply wasn't used to the physical exertion. His legs gave way and he started to fall; thankfully, Ludwig caught him before he hit the ground and slung one of Gilbert's flimsy arms around his neck and helped him to the sofa – it was a new sofa, and it looked pretty expensive – where he flopped down and groaned.

After much fuss and stuttered starts of sentences by Ludwig, both brothers were seated and eating, the elder of the two ravenously so, shovelling food into his mouth like a greedy child. Cooked food, he couldn't believe it, he had eaten hardly anything for years, living off scraps and anything he could steal from the kitchen. After he finished, Gilbert wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked back at his younger brother, "Do you have more?" he asked.

Ludwig, who hadn't even touched his food yet, simply passed over his own plate in shock. Gilbert nodded in thanks and began eating again, but more slowly this time. He glanced up a few times at Ludwig as he ate, it pained him that he could not have seen Ludwig in his teenage years, he would have liked to see him grow from the timid twelve year old boy into the full-grown man that he was now. The blond hair that had once fallen in his face he now wore orderly slicked back like their Father's and he had built a lot of muscle on his body, Gilbert was sure that made him quite popular with the young women.

When he'd finished the second plate he had asked if he could use the bathroom, to which Ludwig had simply responded with a nod, he was still so quiet, and Gilbert had ran upstairs.

The bathroom mirror held his attention for the next hour or so, he had just stood there staring at it, not believing what he could see, the man in front of him was not the same person as the boy who had stood in this same spot eight years previously. He looked sick. He looked dirty. He looked ugly.

He started running a bath, usually he'd just shower but he was sick of standing crying under running water for hours; because when he got out he never felt any cleaner. As he stripped off, he didn't glance at his body even once, he couldn't bear to, it repulsed him. As he sunk down into the water a small sense of calm fell over him, he was home and he'd never have to face Ivan again if everything went to plan, and damn did that that thought lift his spirits. He smiled, his face straining at the rare action. He submerged his head under the water, he had thought it might make him feel cleaner, but he instead became very aware of being surrounded, the water seemed to press down on him, choking him…

He had shot up and Ludwig's worried voice rang out, "Bruder! Are you all right?"

Gilbert cursed to himself, he must have screamed without realising, "'s fine!" he shouted back, then hastily washed his hair before getting out of the bath.

Once he was out and had a towel wrapped around his waist, he had waited to hear sounds of Ludwig downstairs, to make sure that he wouldn't see him like this. After a few minutes, he was satisfied that Ludwig was busy and seemed to have no intention of coming upstairs and headed out of the bathroom. He had walked straight towards his old room, he wondered what they used it for now, probably a guest room, or a storage room.

The door was open, so he glanced inside; it looked completely different to how he had left it, the posters that had one plastered the walls now no longer stared down at him, his old bed was still there but with a plain quilt neatly spread on top of it, the floor was pristine , which it had never been when he occupied this space and some of the furniture had since been replaced.

But the items in the room that drew his attention the most was a pile of boxes at the back of the room, he strolled over to look at them. 'Gilbert' had been written on the top of each and every one of them in black marker pen, it looked like his Dad's handwriting. He flicked open the first box and was greeted with all of his old CDs and magazines, neatly piled. So they had kept all of his things, despite him telling his family that he wouldn't be coming back.

He glanced through a couple of other boxes, games, schoolbooks and photographs dominated most of the first ones he went through, until he got to one with his clothes in, he wasn't sure whether they would still fit him, but he felt naked and besides, it wasn't like he had grown much. Slipping on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt from some band he used to love he trudged back into the bathroom and looked around until he found a pair of scissors, he had never cut his own hair before, but it couldn't be that hard, right?

After much random snipping, Gilbert placed the scissors down and ran his hands through his once again short hair and headed downstairs, again slamming down on the couch. Ludwig walked into the room and gasped, "You cut your own hair?"

Gilbert ran his hand through his hair again, "Yeah, why? Is it that bad?"

Ludwig shook his head, "It's a bit messy, sure, but that's how it always has been. I would've cut it for you though."

The thought of someone coming near him with scissors made Gilbert shudder. Ludwig appeared not to notice though, as he too retook his place on the couch, he looked like he was itching to ask questions. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Ludwig gave in and asked, "Where have you been? You leave with just a note telling us not to try to contact you; you leave all your stuff behind, even your bloody violin, no one sees a glimpse of you for eight fucking years and then you show up on my doorstep looking like you've been to hell and back. What on earth happened to you?"

Gilbert just stared at him for a while, he wasn't used to so much talk, he had only had Ivan and his freaky sisters to talk to before now and it was only the oldest sibling he'd ever bothered trying to start a proper conversation with. Eventually, he had cleared his throat and replied, "I was with someone, but things started going wrong, I needed to move on." It was the story he decided to tell people, it was vague, but it sounded pretty believable.

Ludwig's eyebrows creased into a frown, "That doesn't explain why you haven't spoken to any of us for eight years!" He looked upset now and Gilbert wanted to comfort him, but the image of his brother was replaced by the image of Ivan upset…

"Why are you being so mean Gilbert?"

He whimpered and ran back upstairs, burying himself under the quilt. He hadn't slept well that night, he had woken a number of times, almost expecting to be back at Ivan's and by Ludwig's worried looks in the morning, he guessed he had shouted out a lot too.

He tried to sleep the following day instead, but to no avail, so he just lay awake. Ludwig seemed to understand and just left him alone most of the time, occasionally bringing him food. The rest of the week had passed without incident; Gilbert simply rested and listened to the sounds of a world without Ivan. Sometimes it seemed Ludwig had other people round, but they didn't see Gilbert and he was grateful for that.

He'd been there for six days when Ludwig really spoke to him again. He'd come in with some lunch, cautiously placing it on his bedside table. "Gilbert, can we talk?"

He really wasn't in the mood for talking, but Ludwig's desperate expression hit him hard so he smiled and nodded, "Sure."

"Er, look, I know that no matter how many times I ask, you're not going to tell me what happened to you. But something's not right, and I don't think moping around my house is helping at all." He gave Gilbert a weary look. Gilbert stared back incredulously, "You're kicking me out?"

"No! That's not what I meant, or not exactly anyway, you remember your old friends? Antonio and Francis? They've got a spare room where they are and they said they're happy to let you have it. I can pay your rent if you need until you find a job. It's just…you don't seem to be fully here, I thought spending time with them might help you."

Gilbert had objected at first, but Ludwig kept insisting that his current situation wasn't solving anything. Gilbert couldn't help thinking he had a point, and maybe some human interaction would liven him up a bit, so finally he gave in, and the next day, he actually got up, planning to leave quickly so as not to disturb his brother.

He went over to the boxes in his room; he would need some clothes to take after all. Lying on top of the boxes was an envelope with his name scrawled on. It was probably from Ludwig, so he must have already left. He turned the envelope over in his hand and opened it, examining the contents, a note and some money. He pulled the note out and scanned it, Ludwig had written Antonio's address down and telephone numbers of helpful people to call, Gilbert wasn't even sure who some of them were but he recognised a few of the names as other old school friends. Ludwig had also written some advice of places Gilbert could get work when he 'felt up to it'.

Gilbert put the note and the envelope with the money on the floor and started looking through the boxes again, he found an old black rucksack that he had sometimes used for school and shoved the envelope inside, followed by some clothes, but he would probably have to buy some new ones too, he dreaded to think how out of fashion they all were now.

After he was satisfied that he had a decent amount of clothes, he stood up to leave, but his CD collection caught his eye and he sat back down, maybe there was something decent in there. He flicked through it; most of the CDs were pretty similar, really loud metal music he had bought just to annoy his Dad or punk and rock bands that he and Arthur had loved to listen to. Then his hand froze.

A picture of a violin decorated the front cover of the case lying in front of him and gold, fancy lettering ran across the bottom. It wasn't his CD, he had borrowed it from that boy because apparently he himself lacked 'eloquent musical taste', whatever that was.

He scoured through the rest of the boxes to see if his CD player was still there. Thankfully, it was at the bottom of the CD box. He pulled it out and was about to plug it in when he saw the clock, it was already mid-afternoon. He hadn't realised how late he had woken, Antonio and Francis would probably be waiting for him. He jumped up, stuffed the CD player and the classical disc into the top of his pack, pulled on a bright red hoody and ran out of the house.

He turned away from the mirror now and pulled the CD player out of his bag, plugging it into the wall. He doubted his friends would care too much if he was playing music; Antonio was playing some Spanish crap downstairs anyway.

It had been so long since he had last listened to the disc that he was surprised how familiar the first track seemed to him, like he had heard it simply the week before. Realisation crept up on him and he slowly turned the case over. Track 1 was a piece composed by Tchaikovsky. Russian. He quickly clicked the 'next' button so that it faded into Pachelbel's Canon in D major. Much more like it.

The music took him back to his hours playing music in his room as a teenager, his Father had been mildly bemused but impressed that Gilbert had chosen to learn both the violin and the electric guitar. He could feel his hands itching to play, but he hadn't seen his violin amongst his things in his room at home at home, they had probably sold it.

He slumped down on his bed again, this time his intention being to sleep. For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, Ivan did not immediately invade his slumber, he dreamt instead of walking to school, he could see some of his friends in front of him, he ran to catch up with them, but no matter how fast he ran, he didn't seem to get any closer to them, he called out and the tallest boy turned around. He thought it was Mathias but as he turned around, the blond hair turned lighter and flattened down until Ivan was smiling down at him.

"You're coming back to me, да?"

He woke up abruptly in a cold sweat, shaking. Mozart's 'Adagio' blared out of the CD player, but now he simply wasn't in the mood. He yanked the plug out and lay back down, curled over in a foetal position but not daring to close his eyes again.

I'm sorry if you're a Russia fan, he's not that nice in this fanfiction :P But I will be writing other fics where it's more about his cute(but still kinda creepy XD) side.

(Oh, and if you didn't already guess, 'Lars' is Denmark, I like that name for him :'D I may end up changing it to Mathias if people are particularly annoyed about that…) - I changed it to Mathias!