Yeah, it was extremely stupid for me to write another story, but never fear! This one I'm actually writing with a friend (though this first chapter was completely me), so I'll still have plenty of time to work on Bruises and Excuses! Anyway, I hope this isn't too bad, and I hope you like it!

It had been a boring, rainy day in Germany, and up to that terrifying point when he found himself with pinned against a dirty alley floor, it had been fairly eventless.

He'd been visiting his best friend, which he did nearly every day, when he had decided he wanted to cook for a little while, once again a daily thing. However, the lack of milk in the fridge was a problem. It was strange, because Germany usually remembered these kinds of things as where Italy usually forgot for the most part. Seemed as if the tables were turned.

"Hey, Germany! We're outta milk! I'm gonna go get some! I'll be fine by myself!" That was his first mistake.

"Be careful, and be back soon!" Germany had called back, not even looking up from the aged book in his hands.

His second was going to the closer but smaller and shadier store near his friend's house.

The last one would and would always be him. He seemed nice at first, that excuse for a man. He was charming, and looked like the stereotypical German. Blonde hair and blue eyes, yet he could see the tint of green in his irises and the lack of sufficient muscles that differed him from Italy's Germany. Not to mention his facial features were completely unlike his friend. It was normal conversation inside of the store, at first. (Hello there, what's your name?) (Feliciano, but you can call me Feli!) However, it suddenly turned sour when he began flirting with the brunette. Italy, being the nation he was, wasn't unfamiliar with the gesture, but he was more the slow type who got to know his lovers well before going to that level. And the other was obviously making things uncomfortable very quickly. So he said his goodbyes and began to walk home with the milk in his grasp, before a rough hand covered his mouth and waist and pulled him towards an empty alley.

"Feli, we're going to have some fun~" a voice taunted in his ear, and Italy realized with horror that this was the German he'd been talking to earlier that night. The look in his eyes that he'd mistaken for friendliness was now clearly lust. He tried to yell for help and fight back but something was quickly shoved into his mouth, and the petite nation was no match for a person of this human's body type and found himself pinned. "God, look at you..." The man whispered. A few moments later, he went to remove the other's clothes, and when the brunette underneath him squirmed, he spoke again, mercilessly hitting the nation across the face. It would end up bruising terribly. " You fighting will just make it harder, so just let it happen."

In the next two hours, Italy screamed himself hoarse into the fabric in his mouth, tried to stop it from happening, but to no anvil. After that, when he had tired himself out and just accepted it, he just stopped, crying silent tears onto the ground and letting out a pained cry every once in a while. It was finally over a half hour later, and the man left with "We'll meet again, Feli!", and honestly the poor Italian couldn't even move.

It was even a little while before anyone even found him. It had been dark and it was a less populated part of town, and it had been late at night. There had been no one around to hear him struggle, and those he had were definitely not law-abiding citizens, and they knew better than to get involved. But someone must have, because someone asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, and through all of his murky thoughts, he sorted out the questioned and whispered back a 'no'.

For a while, everything hurt and he was extremely disoriented and confused. He barely even registered the red and blue lights or the deafening sirens, a blanket around his shoulders, or phone dialing. Only when he heard his friend and brother's name did he respond.

"Ludwig... and Romano..." he whispered, and even that soft tone was beyond painful. He had been gone quite a while... Germany had probably been worried sick...and rightfully so, he saw now. He curled into himself and waited. One of them would probably be here soon. But, weirdly enough, Italy almost didn't want them to come. They had seen him in lots of other compromising states, but this... He didn't want them to see him like this, blood smeared, covered in bruises and bite marks, but...at least...he took in a shaky breath. He was happy the paramedic had given him some clothing. It had hurt everywhere to slip on but he didn't want to be nude in front of all these policemen or paramedics or curious onlookers or... Or, it seemed, in front of anyone ever again. He swallowed thickly, looking down as his clenched, pale fists.

And he waited.