Broken and Slowly Bleeding Red

Chapter 1: Stand in the Rain

A/N: Hello! So here's a new story with a more unconventional pairing. Framano! Frumano! France x Romano! Roses x Tomatoes! It's actually my favorite France pairing after FrUK, and my favorite Romano pairing. Shh.

Lovino has run away from an abusive home, were he learned the wrong definition of love. Finding his way through the streets of Paris he comes across café were he meets Francis Bonnefoy, someone who is willing to help fix the broken.

The dark nights were always chilly. It's what he probably hated most about this city; besides for the rude, annoying, perverted people of course. And the food, nothing could ever replace a heaping plate of pasta, or delicious warm slice of pizza. But at least here, there was no one to hurt him.

Quietly, like a mouse, Lovino Vargas stumbled through the streets of Paris. He had no where to go, so all he could do was wander around until he found a secluded alley or somewhere he could nestle for the night. Then in the morning, he'd scrounge for food, avoid the wary stares, and repeat the night before.

He liked this better though. No one beat him here. No one touched him. No one left big purple bruises and nasty scars over his body. No one pulled his hair, left him in a basement to rot, only to visit him to let out there frustration on him, then return upstairs as if they were god himself. There was no one to treat him like was nothing, while his little brother was treated like a prince. Here no one noticed him anyways.

Everything was fine, until it started raining. The Italian glanced up at the sky, scowling. He quietly cursed it, trudging ahead in the rain with his shirt pulled over his head. Cold, wet drops of water hit his skin like tiny pinpricks, over and over and over again. He let out a frustrated sigh trying to find shelter before he was drenched. He looked all up and down the road, and spotted a small, welcoming looking bistro nestled between a few other stores.

He quickly walked over, and opened the door. Once inside he headed for the far back, seating himself in a seat faced away from everyone else. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he felt him relax a bit. The restaurant was warm, and cozy. The sweet smells drifting from the kitchen, made it comparable to heaven. It was comforting.

A few minutes after he had seated himself, a pretty waitress with long brown hair tied up in red ribbons, and hazel eyes walked up to his table. "Bonjour." She said in the sweetest of voices, smiling at him nervously. Lovino guessed this was probably her first day, and he smiled sweetly back at her.

"Ciao bella." He said in his smoothest of voices.

The girl's cheeks heated up, averting her eyes to the ground. "Italian?"

"Si." He brought his arm onto the table, resting his cheek in his hand.

"Ah…well." She cleared her throat and looked back up at him. "Here's our menu."

The Italian's face immediately darkened when he was handed the menu. He shoved it back in her hands, and looked away. "I don't want to order anything."

"What? But why else are y—"

"I said I don't want anything!" He snapped, glaring at her. The girl jumped and scurried away back to the kitchen, her face kept towards the ground.

Lovino groaned, and let his head fall against the table with a soft thud. He winced slightly, but ignored it. It's not like he didn't want to eat whatever they were brewing in that kitchen of theirs, but he didn't have any sort of money to pay them with. The small pain in his stomach that never seemed to go away reminded him of that.

A couple of hours went by, and it was closing time for the bistro. By that time, the Italian had fallen into a light sleep. The soft clank of a bowl hitting the table woke him up. He glanced up, and saw a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. He laid his back down, mumbling into the table. "I don't have any money."

"Perhaps not, but I wasn't asking." A melodic voice came from his side. He cocked his head to the side, looking up at the speaker.

It was a smiling man, with golden hair tied up in the back, piercing blue eyes the color of the sky, and stubble along his chin. He had this air to him that made him seem so appealing. But there many people who seem appealing at first and Lovino had to learn the hard way that they weren't as nice as they seemed.

"I didn't ask for this. I don't want your soup, and I don't want your fucking charity." Lovino growled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"I do not care. Again, I didn't ask. I won't let you leave until you eat. I own this restaurant. I can afford letting you have a small bowl of soup."

A small snarl came from the Italian's lips, not sure if this man could be trusted. A spoon was shoved into his hands, and he looked at the bowl of soup with disdain.

"I'm not hungry." He finally said, setting the spoon on the table, and pushing the bowl away from him. Just then, a low growl bubbled up from his stomach, his face turning a deep scarlet. In reality, all he had been eating for the past few days were pieces of bread, and things he found being thrown out. Shamefully, he looked away, covering his stomach with his hands.

"I think your stomach is disagreeing with you, non?" The Frenchman chuckled. The bowl was pushed back in front of him

Lovino scowled, his face becoming even redder. "Whatever." He muttered quietly.

A hand ruffled his dark hair. "We'll be cleaning up in the back."

Pouting, the Italian waited for the man to walk away. He took one last glance behind him, and then turned his attention to the bowl. The soup was gone within minutes. He took once last long drink of the liquid from the soup, and then set the bowl back down with a satisfied sigh. When he looked up the strange blonde man was sitting back in front of him, looking at him with those sparkling cerulean eyes.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" He said quietly, looking away.

"I thought it was quiet obvious that I was looking at you."

Lovino huffed, and turned his eyes to the Frenchman. "What do you want? I told you I have no money."

"I don't want money. I want you to tell me something."

Feeling anxious, the Italian shifted in his seat. "S-so…what do you want to know?"

"What are you running away from?"

Lovino's eyes widened, staring at the other man. How had he known? He had come here to get away from his nightmares, but it seemed they had followed him like dark ominous shadows.

"T-The hell?" Bewildered, he got up shakily from the table and headed out the door. He ignored the yells coming from the table wait. He ignored it all but the sound of his heart beating on the concrete as he ran. He didn't stop until he was far from the bistro, and even then he kept running until his lungs felt like they were going to explode. Leaning against a concrete wall, he lowered himself into a crouch, and buried his face between his knees. His breathing was harsh, and his brain felt as if a thousand hammers were hitting his head simultaneously.

"G-get out of my head." He whispered in an unsteady voice, his body trembling. "Leave me alone!" He shut his eyes tightly, burning under the darkness of his eyelids. Thin drops of salt water pushed pass his lashes, and started to trail down his cheeks. His whole body convulsed as he burst into loud sobs.

So that's the short first chapter of Framano story. ;D I'm working on my other stories, and I also have another idea for more Framano yum. And unlike some, this will end in Framano. :DD