I know I shouldn't be working on the prequel while the sequel is still in progress but... I honestly couldn't help myself. Midnight's Kiss will be finished before this will, I promise. As I said in the last chapter, inspiration is way low. Ideas would be very much appreciated. Whether in review or PM, I am willing to listen to anything and everything.

Feedback on this prologue of only... 300 words would be fantastic as well. It's a matter of whether I should continue this story or not.

Thank you so much everyone for supporting me and my stories! I know I don't say it enough. So... thank you!

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Prologue

He fell into a messy heap on the floor, struggling to catch his breath. He clutched his stomach where the blow had been dealt as he rolled on the floor in agony. Tears stung his eyes and a lump gathered in his throat. He didn't understand. Why was his father doing this? What had he done wrong? Sure he broke a dish while washing them but was this necessary?

The seven year old had asked himself these questions for years now. Never once had he seen his father express his love or sing his praises. It was always his younger brother. His perfect, wonderful younger brother. He had been told that he would never amount to anything—that he would forever remain in his younger brother's shadow. And he had actually come to believe it.

Said younger brother sat cowering in the corner in fear he, too, would be punished.

The angry man picked up his eldest son by his hair, scowling and spitting insults at him.

"You'd be better off dead. God damn kid," the father spat before dropping the boy to the floor amongst his tears and pain, grumbling something as he walked away. He left him there to grovel.

His mother watched from afar, crying softly with hands covering her mouth. What could she do? Anything from her would've resulted in another beating. She wanted her children to be happy. Or well, as happy as they could be. There was nowhere for them to go. And if she left… she didn't dare think of the outcome.

"That's my boy," was all the distraught child wanted to hear his father say. He heard his father say it to his younger brother all the time. Wasn't he worthy of that same love? Couldn't he be as perfect as his sibling?

Lovino Vargas rolled to his feet.

He didn't think so.