AN- Sorry about this. I've had severe writer's block, begun losing interest in this fandom and Real Life has been keeping me very busy. No matter how I tried to continue with the story as I had it, I couldn't get it to flow or come out anywhere near what I wanted. I had too many characters who I was trying to give equal attention which has proven confusing for readers and impossible for me.

Thank you to my followers who've stuck around and kept an interest in this story. I will try to update more often now that I have things sorted out (RL is still a pain though).

This was inspired by Michael Jackson's song They Don't Really Care About Us. This will be a complete AU, centred in Paris and (possibly) around Europe. There may or may not be pairings as about 99% of the characters will be under 19.

I hope you still like this with my changes and I still don't own Hetalia nor the song They Don't Really Care About Us, they belong to their respective owners. I own only my everchanging plot.

Those who lack imagination, cannot imagine what is lacking

Paris is a beautiful city, rich in history, culture and ideas.

At one point, it was even considered the centre of the civilized world!

For years its inhabitants set the political and social trends that the rest of Europe would try to follow and it housed some of the greatest thinkers, affluent people and world shakers: from kings to explorers to ideas.

The Gauls and their villages were here before it became part of the great Roman Empire, (the limestone deposits proving invaluable and resulted in the beginning of the city) and then built great castles in the Medieval period, constantly warring with their neighbours. It fought in the Crusades, survived invasions from the Prussians, the English and the Germans, conquered large parts of Europe through Napoleon and became a huge colonial power.

Paris is covered by confusing mix of architecture with Gothic churches beside a Brutalist structure across from an Art Deco building. Then there are bits left behind from the time when France walked among the imperial giants, exploring and claiming foreign land for its own and its heart reflected those conquests. There are hidden artistic treasures and monuments everywhere, remnants from that conquering past, with no living owner to explain their story.

The main roads are like a spoke, stretching ever onwards into the distance from the hub while minor ones create a spider web maze for the unwary to get lost in and the narrowness of them promised easy barricades and tough resistance. These streets spoke of the long history the nation has had, now modern but everywhere echoes of gunpowder, riots, revolution and fierce ideals can be read.

Soon enough Paris shall yet again be home to another battle ground, with people just as desperate, just as angry for freedom and crying for justice. The city passes unawares, not realizing what is hiding below, there in the hidden enduring darkness where the city keeps it's heritage.

After all, like all great places, Paris was built on its bones.

Feliciano watched their house from a distance in shock; watching as hungry flames devoured it, tongues of fire reaching up towards the stars and consuming everything. Gone is the table he did his homework on, the couch they would snuggle up to watch movies on, the wall unit that his parents proudly displayed both his and his brother's artwork and awards, his mother's garden, his father's vintage comics and so many important memories with them, the fire engulfing everything, making it seem as though they never existed in the first place. Their lives erased from existence, sacrificed to the ravenous blaze.

Chancing a quick glance at his fratello beside him on the hill, the flame's light gave his face and tears new light, making him look almost ethereal in the glow. He knew that internally his precious brother, now his only known family besides their grandfather, was screaming (just as he was) but as he stood beside him, his tears could not be heard.

After all, they couldn't afford any such noises; any sound at all in fact.

He knew he didn't look much better, as he swallowed his own cries of despair and the word "calmarsi" echoing over and over and his mind.

He couldn't believe that this had happened.

Just under a half hour ago, they had arrived home to find their parents running about frantically and they had had rucksacks thrust at them, packed with probably all the money they could find, some food and a change of clothes. Then the two were shoved at the secret passage in the cellar and told

"Fuga. Stanno arrivando."

They then heard crashes from the upstairs and sounds of their mother fighting before gunshots rang in the air and...silence. Their dad gave them one last look, as though he were memorizing their faces before he pushed them farther in and closed the hidden doors behind them.

As they obeyed and ran down the tunnel, tears silently pouring down their faces, they flinched again at the muffled shouts before a second gunshot rang out, this one much closer and was followed by the dreaded sound of a body hitting the ground. The sounds of crashes and angry shouts could still be heard as the two then fled down the tunnel but luckily the sounds of breaking down the entrance to the passage or pursuing footsteps were not.

Just a half hour and they had gone from being two normal boys in secondaria to being orphans, homeless and prey.

Though who was their hunter?

Who was after them and their family? They did not know but they knew that they did not want to be caught. Daring not to linger any longer, they chanced one last look at their house as the flames consumed it before taking off into the night of their home town in Venadio, Italy into the unknown. They couldn't go to a friend's house and their grandfather was nowhere near them: not only would they risk their safety by doing so but there was no guarantee that any trust given wouldn't be betrayed.

So they left. The only thing that kept them moving was some sort of draw, a pull, calling them to the North with whispered promises that they would be safe.

That was how they found themselves in Paris.

"~Veeeee. Lovino! Wait up!"

It had been a long, hard two years since the death of their parents and the burning of their home and Romano and Feliciano were now sixteen. The foreign desire calling them north, then west had all but vanished, leaving them to wander aimlessly around in the more tourist areas of the city to find whatever it was. In their time travelling and in the city of light, they had gone against anything they had ever been taught.

Don't sleep out in the open.

Don't talk to strangers.

Don't eat it if it has touched any potential unclean surface.

Don't eat it if you don't know WHAT it is.

Don't wear dirty/ratty clothes.

Don't steal.

Sleeping outdoors was the first rule they broke, long before they even got to France, sheltering under a bridge that first night. The rules about food were next within a month when they had no money left and stealing followed shortly thereafter. They never really bothered with their clothes before and as fall came around, they had begun wearing what they could find for a little more warmth, regardless of appearance. Talking to strangers was one of the last as it was only in the third month of arriving in France that they were more fluent in French.

By the fourth month, all of those primary rules and more were broken, all in the name of the three issues: hunger, safety and shelter. Still, even with their improving illegal skills, their clothes hung off them and though they made an effort to always look at least step above hell warmed over (it was important to their survival to not look homeless, else they get unwanted attention), they did not blend in with others their age. They still tried as, if it appeared they were street kids, people would be more suspicious as would the police and the authorities could try and put them in a home; so they would get up early to quickly bathe in a river or public bathroom in order to look as presentable as possible. The latter was more of a danger then it should be for their age but after two years of not enough food and surviving the elements, they looked a few years younger then they actually were.

But on the other hand, they were still alive and together.

Last night in particular had been troublesome. They had slept in one of the parks, in one of those crawling tubes you find on climbers, quiet, sheltered from the rain and they couldn't easily be seen. It was a very good spot, better then their last sleeping place at least, a car park didn't provide the same hiding places and had cameras. They had to sleep with their bags between them, their arms hooked on the straps so they couldn't be stolen and were a little cramped but it was still a perfect haven for two street kids.

They had been staying there for the past few days but after last night Lovino didn't dare go back.

They had woken up with the dawn like usual, crawling out from the tunnel before checking their bags to ensure everything was still there. All that was in those sacks were two sweaters, a pair of pants, a can opener and a thermos but to them it was gold, priceless even. Gently folding up the thin blanket they had, they put it in one of them.

It went downhill from there, a group of boys in lycée with superiority complexes on their way to school thought it would be good sport to harass them and steal their packs. Seeing them close in, Lovino pushed Feliciano through an opening as he could outrun pretty much anyone and in seconds he was gone. Having caused one of their victims to escape, Lovino soon found himself with a fight on his hands against these bigger boys. However, they had not survived this long without picking up a trick or two and was able to knock one of the boys out and hold two of them off before the fourth managed to get behind him and a fist connected into his side, followed by many of its brethren. He went limp for a second and in their surprise, he attacked the instep of the boy behind him, punched the one on his right in the gut and headbutted the one in front of him before swinging around to hit the last boy between the legs. Not giving them even a second to recover, he took off and climbed up a nearby tree.

One of the benefits from not being able to eat enough was he was light and able to perch on branches far above their reach. Upon realizing this, they began to wait for him to come down. However, unlike him, they had people who would be upset with them if they didn't go to school so after about ten minutes of throwing rocks and insults they left.

Fuckers.

After making sure they were really gone, Lovino scrambled down and ran over to the bridge that they had made their safety point.

He hated this life. Not only because of the lack of food causing hunger constantly gnawing at their stomachs, or because of the bullies they had to deal with or their compromised morals but because of how he was perceived. As he ran down the street, no one acknowledged his existence.

He was, for all intents and purposes, invisible.

The few times they were desperate enough to beg had only increased those feelings as passerby's eyes just glazed over them, not acknowledging their words or presence; just passing them over. As if they were not there, as if they didn't even exist at all.

It was what he hated the most; that sense of not-existing; of not being real. It became almost reassuring when they received eye contact or a cent, someone then was at least acknowledging them being there and what he and his brother have gone through. Though at the same time, he was hit with shame for people seeing the low they had been brought to.

Turning the corner, he sighed in relief when he saw the bridge and then, swinging up into the trellises, he was further relieved to see Feliciano there.

It had been a close call though, they'd have to be more careful to avoid any more pretentious morons like them who had nothing better to do but harass those less fortunate then them. They would maybe stay the night by the Louvre as there were a number of relatively safe places to stay for the night there... They could worry about that later, they still had the entire day before that to get through after all.

Feliciano, freaking out over his cuts and bruises (and probably guilty for listening to Lovino and putting his own safety first) had immediately disappeared for a bit before coming back with some money. It was lucky that in the morning, commuters never paid that much attention and when Feli pulled out his innocent "Hey mister, you dropped your wallet!" routine, they never stood a chance. He would pickpocket their wallet, take one or two euro (never enough to be noticed) before returning it, sometimes getting more money for his trouble.

Groaning, Lovino got to his feet as dragged him towards the nearest convenience store where the younger twin proceeded to drag him over to the first aid section. There was another skinny boy there with darker skin and dreads and wearing a Hawaiian shirt, Lovino guessing him to be about a year older then them, with his own substantial stack of supplies.

As they looked over each box looking a little lost, he reached over and handed Feli a box saying, "Here, these ones work the best and these icepacks last the longest."

"T-Thank you." Feli stammered out while Lovino grunted noncommittally, god everything hurt.

"You're welcome."

Paying for their items (the shopkeeper glaring at them suspiciously as they did so) and leaving the odd boy behind (he was nice to them, how strange!)

Finding a quiet alley, with some cardboard to shelter them against the wind, Feli set about binding his brother's injuries and made him sit there with the icepack on his eye and knee (at the same time, they could only afford one after all) until the pack was no longer cold.

Lovino stayed there the rest of the day, hiding from prying eyes, Feli deeming him not fit to do anything until the ice pack at least was done. It was mid-afternoon when his brother came back with a good haul. He had been behind a nearby used clothing store that had just gotten rid of the donations they considered unfit to sell and had managed to find a nice enough (by their standards) Rammstein t-shirt with one or two holes and a pair of slightly ripped cargo pants. He himself already had new clothes on, a stained gaming tshirt and a pair of jeans covered in paint, Lovino sighed in happiness as the new clothes graced his skin, these would be a more effective shield against the wind and the bitter cold that came at night. Even better, he had found extra socks; the ones they had were getting very worn and these slightly used pairs were a delight. Then Feli pulled out the other treasure he'd gathered – no one had been watching a few of the outside stands and he had managed to swipe a can of soup.

If his past self could see him now, he was sure that the younger boy would've been astonished by the joy he found in these simple things. The sheer pleasure from having a new (to him) pair of socks, a shirt and food in his belly was surpassing that he used to feel on Christmas morning.

After they had eaten and deemed themselves as presentable, or at least as presentable as they could get; they went to the nearby library (if you looked like a street kid they'd watch you like a hawk) and proceeded to fall asleep in the great arm chairs they had.

"Excuse me. Mister? Wake up please!"

Feliciano slowly opened his eyes and saw a young Asian girl in pink with a flower in her long hair standing there, lightly tugging at his shirt. Seeing he was awake, she clapped her hands together and smiled. "Good you're up! The Library is closing a little and the librarians here are so grumpy when waking people up so I thought it would be nice if I did it instead...though could you wake your brother up? My Dàgē! (大哥) is waiting for me."

Flashing his brightest smile, he nodded and she ran off towards four other Asians, the eldest of whom nodded at him before turning around and going downstairs.

Feli immediately dropped his smile, he could see outside through the window and it was pouring. He knew by now that the good phone booths, bus shelters, bridges awnings and alleys that sheltered from the rain would be packed by now by others in a similar situation to them. However that was when the nasty bullies would also show up and as gangly sixteen year olds, both he and Lovi didn't stand a chance.

But then, where to stay for the night? Their park was no longer safe and while they could go to a drop in centre, they both knew that they'd likely be made to go into some sort of foster care and that the men who had destroyed their lives could then find them. Not worth the risk, but then, where could they go?

Leaning over, he gently shook Lovino awake while whispering nonsense to him (so that way he knew it was him and not an assailant). Just as the older Italian was blinking sleep out of his eyes a stern librarian came over, grimace on his face and pointed them to the door. Well, there'd be no sleeping over at the library (they had successfully done that before though it was hard) tonight then. Peering out into the gloom, Feli spotted a nearby bridge that they could at least get shelter from the rain, though not the driving winds. Running over, they were happy to see no one else hiding up in the trellises and soon were hiding in the most sheltered area waiting for the storm to pass.

Which took the evening, the night and most the of the following morning.

Not wanting to venture out into the rain, they hunkered down and waited and as soon as it stopped they darted out again, their stomachs whining from the lack of food since the can of soup. However, picking were slim due to the rain so Lovi and Feli reluctantly agreed on what they needed to do.

Needing money again (but when didn't they? They could almost weep in joy when they had enough to get a Big Mac for each of them), they found themselves in the Champs-Élysées, pickpocketing anyone who looked an easy target: essentially, anyone who looked to be a tourist.

At least, that was the plan.

However, it all went to pieces when Feliciano went for the wrong wallet and found himself looking into a pair of red eyes.

Translations

fratello (It- brother)

calmarsi (It- calm down)

Fuga. Stanno arrivando. (It- Run/flee. They are coming)

secondaria (It- high school)

Dàgē! (大哥) (Ch- Big Brother)