A/N: Hello there fellow Hetalia fans! Welcome to my first published attempt at a Hetalia themed fanfiction. I apologise now for any spelling mistakes I may have missed and I will stress this fact:

I do not hate Prussia, I just felt like using him like this for this story, so sorry for making him a complete ass, but it seemed to work!

Anywho, enjoy!

What snacks should I make for tonight, Matthew wondered as he pottered around his kitchen; it was his and Alfred's monthly movie night, and there was nothing the Canadian nation loved more than to be able to spend a night with his brother without having to worry about war or politics. It was a welcome chance for both of them to be able to ignore their responsibilities as nations; even if only for a short while. A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

"Odd," Matthew muttered to himself, walking towards his front door – he wasn't expecting Alfred for another hour or so yet… not that it bothered him if he got here early.

"Hey Al, you're…" Matthew felt his blood run cold; it wasn't the fun-loving over-eager American he'd been expecting, but a tall man with ashen hair and crimson eyes that carried the lusting of a thousand savages: Gilbert. "No," was all Matthew managed to whisper, fear slowly filling his body as he tried to slam the door in the Prussian's face.

"Now, now little Canada," the albino smirked, jamming a foot in the door before it could be fully closed. "Is that any way to treat someone as awesome as I am?"

"I-I don't know why you're here," Matthew said, hating the way his voice trembled as he did so. "But… I–I want you to leave, now." The Prussian tilted his head in mock confusion before thrusting the door open onto the smaller nation standing inside.

"I don't intend to be going anywhere just yet," he almost seemed to growl as he strode inside, glaring down at the shorter teen before launching a punch into his gut. Matthew dropped to the floor, winded, tears coming to his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. "Not without having a little fun first, that is."

No. No, no, no, no, no! Matthew had a strange feeling that he knew what the Prussian meant by fun, and wanted no part in it. With that driving force in mind, a wave of adrenalin flushed through his body as he scrambled towards the stairs. If he could only make it to his room, to his mobile which he was no sorely wishing he'd opted to keep with him, or, at least, to a room with a door that locked.

"Oh," Gilbert teased, an amused tone lacing his voice as Matthew reached the top of the stairs and started off towards his room. "Trying to run away are you? I do love a good chase." Hearing this, followed by pursuing footsteps stalking him towards what he hoped would be his savior only doubled Matthew's desperation as he stumbled into his bedroom, lunging for the mobile on his nightstand. The burst of relief he felt at having the device in-hand was short-lived as his pursuer came barreling into him, sending him sprawling across the floor as a searing wave of pain wracked his entirety of his left side, followed shortly by a warm damp sensation.

"Come on Mattie, you could at least try to fight back," Gilbert sneered down at him, launching a kick into his quarry's chest, an evil smirk spreading across his lips as Matthew coughed and spluttered in response. "It makes your pain twice as enjoyable." He laughed, throwing a few more kicks into him for good measure. Matthew let his left arm sink down to cradle his waist - noting that thankfully, the phone was still in his hand – letting his right groping about under the bed beside him, praying that he'd find something that he could use as a weapon against his assailant, managing to cut the back of his hand on something on the process. There is was!

"Sick bastard," Matthew yelled whilst swinging the hockey stick Alfred had gotten him for his last birthday towards the Prussian's knee. The older nation growled in pain and frustration as Matthew stuck his thigh, having missed his knee – and his chance to cripple his attacker – by mere inches. Luckily, it still gave the young Canadian enough time to scramble to his feet and make a dash for the door, running down the hall into his study, he slammed the door behind him before sliding the lock into place. Still not even daring to breathe, he dialed his brother's number, the dial tone going on for what felt like a small eternity.

"Open up," Gilbert slammed against the door, the murderously sweet tone he spoke with making Matthew feel ill. "Open the door Mattie, you can't play hit and run with me."

"Mattie," Alfred's voice echoed through Matthew's phone and he could've cried with joy at the sound of it. "Mattie, what's going on? Are you alright?"

"A-Alfred, I -," was all he managed to stammer out before yet another barrage of ill concealed anger rattled the door causing him to yelp in fear.

"Hang on Mattie, I'm coming," he could hear the underlying urgency in his brother's voice as a motorcycle revved up somewhere in the background. "Where are you?"

"At home," he yelled frantically as Gilbert finally managed to break through the door. "In the stud-" a foot slammed down on the phone – and his hand – effectively cutting off his call.

"What do you think you're doing?" all of the albino's early sugar was gone, replaced by anger and bloodlust. "Call all the help you want, I'll kill you before they even get here!" Two large hands found their way around his throat, dragging him up and shoving him into the wall against which he'd previously been taking cover, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. "You will suffer."

"Le-let g-go," Matthew gasped, trying desperately to pry the hands from his throat, already struggling to breathe, feet scrambling against the wall, attempting to find enough purchace on the flat surface to alleviate the pressure on his windpipe. The only response his plea got, however, was a crazed laugh and a tighter grip. No matter how much he struggled, the only thing Matthew succeeded in doing was cause his ribs to throb painfully.

How long had it been; ten, twenty minutes, maybe? Would Alfred make it in time, or would he turn up just to find his corpse?

So, this was it then? Matthew could feel himself going light-headed, his vision was starting to blur and it had become all but impossible to breathe. He knew it was only the fact that he'd managed to snatch the occasional gulp of air earlier on in the struggle that had allowed him to stay conscious for this long, but it was running out now. The room was swimming in and out of focus, growing dimmer as the seconds passed; even Gilbert's crazed laughter had stopped – all of his pain was slowly ebbing away. Was this what death felt like? It was peaceful and, considering preceding events, a welcome experience. Simply drifting, off into the darkness…

"Mattie," a panicked voice drifted up the stairs to the brawling duo. Matthew forced his eyes open, greeted by red eye that seemed torn between their 'play thing' and whoever had joined their midst. Heavy footsteps could be heard charging up the stairs towards them. Gilbert snarled tightening his grip, unwilling to release the Canadian nation before his deed was done. Matthew gave up in his desperate bid for escape, no longer having the strength to lift his arms. A feral scream accompanied by a sudden jolt shook the pair of them, sending Gilbert flying away from him; Matthew just dropped where he was, hitting the floor with a resounding thud, the impact causing him to gasp in shock. The intake of air felt wrong in his mouth, a heavy blackness was still hanging over Matthew's mind, threatening to pull him under, he could feel himself… slipping, drifting almost – it was so peaceful…

A/N: So guys, what'd you think? Any good point, bad points? Drop a review or message and let me know.

Cuz the world runs of love and I love a little sugar! =D

Simply A Writer.