A.N.: This is Kaze-Chan talking and this is the first fic I've posted, let alone finished… HURRAY! *throws confetti and stuff of the sort into the air*

So… this came from reading too many sad tragedy stories on here and from a lack of killing people in stories. Killing people in stories is what I do best, after all~

Warnings: OOC Characters, character death, depression, my OC Mexico and other amazing things. Enjoy and be sure to review~

Canada was at his house, pacing about something. The something was that he was pondering. He was pondering… about committing suicide. He realized only his older siblings noticed him, quite frankly, that was horrible. Mexico didn't notice him all that much, she only came to him when she was mad about America anymore; she rather hang out with her Asian country friends. America only came around when he wanted new prank ideas to tick their sister off or if he wanted to know if Canada could come over to hang with America and Tony. That was all.

He was, needless to say, invisible to the world. She then walked into his bedroom, he had made up his mind. He walked over to his closet and pulled the simple shotgun out from the top shelf and went back into the kitchen. He sat down and wrote a simple note to his siblings. He knew after a while of not answering his cell phone, they would come looking for their little brother. Not that Canada mattered… no, his siblings just needed someone to tell them who deserved to win the fight. Canada finished the note off bitterly and pulled his curtains closed as he walked over into the kitchen itself and held the gun up to his head. He stared blankly around him as he pulled the trigger.

Almost at once, blood splattered from Canada's head as the country slumped to the floor. The white tile floor and fridge was dyed red as Canada started loosing consciousness. /Now is the time to cry…./ the Nation thought, /…So why do I not have the urge to cry?/ He asked himself in his head as the world became blurred. His blood kept flowing until it stained the whole room red; the side of his face… no… his whole body was darkened with the sticky red fluid. He felt all the pains and sadness of the world go off his shoulders and he smiled, "Is this… what it is like… to die?" He asked out loud, "Because… death is almost… soothing." He managed before closing his eyes for the last time.

America and Mexico walked down the road and America looked at his sister, "Have you gotten ANYTHING from Canada yet?" He asked and she shook her head, "No… nothing… this isn't like him. He normally responds after around 5 texts." She said, concerned. Her brother raised an eyebrow, "How many have you sent a text…?" He asked and his sister sighed, "20 times. Maybe more." America saw the concerned look on her face and he nodded, "We're almost at Mattie's, I'm sure he's sleeping or something…" He said and Mexico knew America was trying to convince her as much as he was trying to convince himself.

When they got to the front door, America noticed something was… off. "Az, since when has Mattie EVER closed his curtains?" America asked and Mexico looked at the window, a confused look was on her face, "He's never done that before. Never…" She whispered and America nodded, "Exactly. Something isn't right." He said, pushing his little sister out of the way and trying the doorknob… only to find it was unlocked. Mexico shoved her way in front of America, "Okay, Al, something is OFFICALY wrong!" She said, quickly and worriedly. She walked into the kitchen and screamed, "HOLY FUCK, ALFRED, GET IN HERE!" She screamed, seeing her little brother's bloody body on the ground. America ran in the room, then stopping dead when he saw Canada. "Oh my… Az, how long has he been here, you think?" America asked, his voice in a whisper. Mexico bent down and touched her brother's cold body, to feel no pulse. After that, she closely looked at his body and stood up, "An hour, in the least…" She whispered and America sighed, "We probably screwed up, big time…" He said and Mexico nodded, "Try and clean up the place and Mattie. I'll see if he left anything for us." She said, leaving before her elder brother could react. She walked into the dinning area and saw a white piece of paper. She picked it up and read it:

Dear Mexico and America,

I'm sick of it. Of not being noticed. Even though YOU two see me, you make it worse. Try thinking of not being seen by ANYONE. The only people who can see you are older siblings, who only bicker and only seem to need you when they can't come to an agreement. That, my siblings, is my life. Don't TRY to act like this is horrible, that you care. I know that is a lie. You don't care about me, you never had. Even if you are sad, you'll forget about that feeling and move on with your life. You always do.

From, your brother,

Canada

Mexico dropped the note as her brother came into the room, "Hey, Az, I cleaned up the kitchen and Mattie… Az, what's wrong?" He asked. Mexico turned around and hugged him, sobbing, "This was our faults… all our faults…" She sobbed and America picked the note off the ground and read it. The two siblings then stood in shocked silence.

It was a month later, Mexico and America walked down the cobblestone path in the cemetery, each other a huge thing of flowers. They reached a small tombstone in it's own part of the cemetery, white marble with carefully engraved writing. America dried tears away from his face, "It might have only been a month… but it feels like forever." He said and Mexico nodded, "It does indeed… it doesn't feel right, there only being two of us…" She trailed off and America patted her on the back, "I know. Lets get these on Mattie's grave and leave." He said, Mexico nodded and they both set down the flowers on the grave. Mexico looked at the grave one last time before leaving:

Here lies Matthew Williams

1994-2010

"History makes us who we are, but we can make history. Anyone can be a hero, if they just choose to be"