Notes: Here I am with another story focused on the NA brothers, and later the ACE family. I just can't get enough of them! This will be slightly angsty at the beginning, but it's probably just some childish melodrama, then it will move to fluffy. There's not much plot here, I just needed to write something about child!Canada and teen!America because they're the most adorable thing ever, but I don't see many fics set in that period. I hope you can enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, nor do I get any profit for writing this. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, credits for the cover picture go to bebe (pixiv member id=88560).

Chapter 1

Over the last few days, Canada had come to a conclusion: America didn't care for him anymore.

The mere admission made his heart clench painfully, a big lump form in his throat, but he couldn't deny what was in front of his eyes.

When they had both been children, America would spend time with him, play with him… Sure, he had also forgotten or dismissed him more than a few times, and rarely listened to any of his suggestions, always deciding on his own, but he had been happy whenever they played together, never turning down an opportunity to do so. Since he had begun growing up, however, America had done nothing but study. Well, almost. He still did have some free time, but he hardly ever spent it with Canada. Whenever Canada wanted to do something with his brother, America would turn him down with the excuse of being busy.

Exactly like he had just done. In spite of having promised him that they would spend some time together.

It was a beautiful day – still winter, the air was still cold and crisp, but the sun shone high in the bright blue, cloudless sky, basking the green meadows in his golden light. It was the perfect day for playing, as Canada had gleefully announced to his older brother, hoping that he would remember the promise he had made him the previous day, only to be coldly overlooked. The older boy had barely spared a glance at him, his eyes never leaving the book they had been glued to, before declaring that no, he didn't have time to play. He was a grown up now, he had responsibilities.

Canada felt his heart plummet in his chest at the cold indifference in his brother's voice, the air was squeezed out of his lungs. He stood there for a moment, wide-eyed, a part of him still hoping to see America lift his bright eyes and beam at him as he had done countless times before, but his brother didn't show any further acknowledgement of his presence.

Finally, Canada turned away, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, dragging his feet as he walked away slowly, a part of his mind still stubbornly clinging to the hope of hearing his brother's voice call him back.

It didn't happen.

In spite of the warm sun rays caressing his skin, Canada could feel the cold seeping into his bones.

"Why won't he play with me anymore, Kumachiki?" he whispered forlornly to his companion.

The bear cub lifted his head from the leaves he had been playing with, his black eyes focusing on Canada.

"Who?"

"Alfie! America!" Canada pouted, stomping his feet.

The bear tilted his head to a side, unperturbed by the child's small tantrum.

"No, who are you?"

Canada felt his chest tighten at those words. Not even Kumajiro remembered him.

"Never mind," he muttered, turning around.

He felt like crying. 'Of course, why would Kuma even remember me?' he thought as he kicked a pebble out of his way. There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that made him worthy of attention.

His eyes fell again on America's frame, in the same position he had been before, reading in the shade of the trees.

His brother was almost an adult now. "Fifteen," he had told him with pride just a few days before, checking his growing, muscular body on a mirror. His brother was strong and smart, brave and lively, his eyes constantly glowing, he never cowered in front of anything, always ready for a new challenge.

Canada, on the other hand, was still small. 'Small and pathetic,' he amended as he examined his pale fingers. They were still chubby, but not as much as America's had been, he was thin for a child his age, he remembered England telling him. His skin was soft and porcelain white, so unlike America's golden complexion, still unblemished.

No wonder America couldn't see him. America had sun, prosperous lands, he was strong and loud. Canada was nothing compared to him, just a frozen wasteland. Oh, it was a gorgeous frozen wasteland, where the Northern Lights glowed over the fresh snow, marvellous and terrible, but ultimately useless. Just a pretty sight, a pretty doll. How could anybody ever love him?

He remembered France, who had been tall and handsome and had smiled as he knelt by him, telling him he was precious and loved. Canada had felt his chest fill with warmth at those words, eager to please the man who gently stroked his hair and whispered in his ear that he was the most beautiful child in the whole world.

But France had only ever wanted two things: furs and goods. And when he had realized that Canada couldn't offer much of those, he had been quick to leave him without sparing a second thought to the child he had called his younger brother.

Then had come England.

England, whose eyes had lingered over Canada's form, who had taken his hand and boldly declared him his family. England who had tended to him as he was sick after the war, wetting his feverish brow as he sang lullabies and told him fairy tales to try to divert his mind from the pain.

Canada had felt his heart melt, happiness swelling his chest. He had felt loved and cherished.

Then, he had seen the way England looked at America. How his features softened each time he talked to the child, how the smile lingered on his lips when he looked at the cheerful colony.

Canada had felt his chest tighten, the warmth disappearing as he realized that England never looked at him that way. Oh, it wasn't like he was cruel to him, he was actually always kind and attentive, but it felt forced and fake compared to the tenderness he reserved to America.

Canada had tried. He had tried as hard as he could.

But no matter his efforts, there was no way he could be as bright as America. He could never bring that light to England's eyes.

Now, not even America looked at him anymore.

"What did I do wrong?" Canada wondered out loud, raising his eyes to the sky.

Surely, it had to be his fault. Something he could fix, if tried hard enough. But what if he couldn't? What if it wasn't something he did, but something he was? Something he couldn't change. How could he make anybody care for him? What if he didn't deserve it?

Suddenly, the brightness of the sky seemed out of place, the light jarring with his foul mood. He pressed his tight fists against his clenched eyes, trying to ignore the warm tears that were burning against his eyelids.

"Hey." Something nudged his leg. "Don't be sad. I don't like when you're sad."

Kumajiro was next to him, looking at him with his unblinking black eyes.

Canada knelt by the bear, stroking his soft fur as the tightness in chest abated slightly. He wasn't completely alone, at least Kumajiro had come to him.

"America won't play with me anymore," he whispered sadly, "He promised, but he doesn't even remember."

The bear leaned into his touch.

"He has a lot to do," he said, "He's growing up. A growing nation needs to work very hard."

Canada bit his lower lip, suddenly feeling horribly selfish.

He should have known that America had more important things to do, he shouldn't bother him. Kumajiro's words, however, had planted an idea in his mind.

"Hey, Kumakiji, maybe if I do something to help him he'll love me again!" he declared, brightening up.

The bear didn't answer. When he glanced at him, Canada saw that his interest seemed to be taken by a yellow flower, but at that moment it didn't really matter. For once, Canada knew what he had to do.

A moment later, however, his enthusiasm evaporated. Yes, his plan would have been good, if not for an insurmountable flaw: there was nothing that Canada could do to help his brother. He couldn't read the books for him and explain them to him, he wasn't smart enough. Besides, it wasn't like he could study in his place.

Automatically, his eyes darted to his brother's frame, still sitting under the trees. He hadn't moved since Canada had talked to him, the only change had been the number of read pages of the book. Canada watched as the older boy went on reading, occasionally shifting slightly to accommodate his weight. Sometimes, his right hand would leave the book and fish into a basket at his side, then go back to his mouth with a cookie.

Suddenly, as he watched his brother munch one of the sweet treats, Canada came to a realization: while he couldn't relieve his older brother of any of his duties, that didn't mean there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. For example, judging from the rate America was eating at, the basket was soon going to be empty. And his brother would either have to stop eating or waste some time looking for food.

"Oh, I know how I can help!" Canada said excitedly, patting Kumajiro's head. "Thanks, Kuma!"

Without waiting for an answer, the boy dashed to the house, quivering with expectation. He was sure that Alfred would be happy after that. He would smile and thank him, ruffling his hair, and maybe, even if he didn't have time to play right now, he would remember next time he was free? Matthew strongly hoped so.

He almost thrust open the door, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Mrs Jane!" he called. His voice wasn't certainly loud, but it resounded in the absolute stillness of the house.

He quickly moved to the kitchen, where he was sure he would find the woman England had instructed to look after his colonies' needs.

"Mrs Jane, would you mind…" The words died in his throat as Canada found himself face to face with the woman.

Mrs Jane was positively glowering. The thin features of her pale face were drawn in contempt, her grey eyes squinting under the knitted brow, the already thin lips tightened in a line. She was standing straight, her bony arms crossed across her chest, and the austere air was enhanced by the way her mousy brown hair was tightly tied in a small bun at the nape of her neck, exposing her sharp features.

Canada suddenly felt very small and insignificant before her scorching gaze. Mrs Jane didn't like him, he was far too aware of that. He never missed how her lips pinched in contempt whenever she had to take care of him and had been subjected numerous time to her harsh scolding if he accidentally slipped back to French. "Savage monkey," the woman would sneer under her breath, fully aware of the fact that the child could hear her. Canada certainly wasn't looking forward to asking her for a favour. He wouldn't have, if it were something for him. But this time was different: it was for Alfred.

Canada took a deep breath and swallowed, using all of his willpower to keep his shoulders squared and his back straight.

"Mrs Jane, may I have some cookies, please?" he asked, trying to enunciate each word correctly.

He was so focused on making sure of not slipping back to his former accent that he didn't realize his mistake until he saw Mrs Jane's eyes widen.

"You. Want. More. Cookies," the woman uttered slowly, her nostrils quivering with barely suppressed rage.

"N—Not for me!" Canada amended quickly, unconsciously taking a step back. "T—They would be for…"

Mrs Jane, however, ignored his tremulous words.

"I've cooked you breakfast only a few hours ago, you ungrateful child," she sneered, her eyes as cold as ice, "And you will have lunch at midday. You have more than enough food, what makes you think you are entitled to have any more cookies?"

Canada wanted nothing more than flee instead of facing the woman, but he forced himself to stay still, his body tense. He had to do that for America. And Mrs Jane liked America, she wouldn't object to him having a snack, he only needed to let her understand that.

"Mrs Jane, please," he whispered softly, his lilac eyes huge, "Alf—America is hungry, I won't…"

The woman interrupted him with a sharp gesture of her hand, her features contorted in a frown.

"Don't try to bring the young master into this! Don't you have any shame?! He's working hard, and you use this as an excuse for your greed?!"

Canada recoiled, his lips quivering.

"B—but," he stammered, "I—it's not for me, I think Alfred might…"

The sudden smack of Mrs Jane's hand against the door's hinge made Canada jump slightly.

"Stop this. Right. Now," the woman hissed, her lips curved in contempt. "I know that you're lying, you only want those cookies for yourself. Well, as I told you before: you'll have your food at lunchtime, no sooner. And don't you even dare go disturbing the young master over this silliness!"

Before Canada could even think of a reply, the door was slammed shut in front of his face, leaving him staring wide-eyed at the dark wood.

"…but I only wanted to get some food for Alfred," the child whispered mournfully, lowering his head.

He had been so sure that he could help… but once again, he had proven himself to be useless. Shouldn't an immortal being be fearless in front of humans? Probably, but Canada truly wasn't. He should have probably yelled at Mrs Jane, forced her to bake those cookies for him… but England had placed her as their caretaker. Wouldn't it be ungrateful of him to treat her badly? Besides, Jane probably had reasons for not liking him, and comparing him to America certainly wasn't doing him any favour.

His shoulders slumping, Canada turned away from the door and slowly walked out of the house, dragging his feet. He knew that he should be outside, it was a beautiful day, but he didn't think he could stand to see America again, not after he had failed so spectacularly and had seen his hopes of regaining his brother's attention being swept from under his feet.

He was barely out of the house when Kumajiro trotted to his side.

"I told you to stop being sad," the small bear reprimanded him, giving a slight tug to his tunic. "What now?"

Canada sighed.

"I wanted to bring Alfred some cookies, so maybe he would have liked me again," he explained, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to hold back the tears that were glistening at the corners of his eyes. "But I couldn't even do that. I'm useless. How can he love me if I'm useless, Kuma?"

The polar bear huffed, shaking his head.

"You don't need to bring him cookies to make him love you," he declared bluntly.

Canada felt the weight in his chest lessen slightly at his companion's words. He knew that they weren't true, America couldn't love him if he stayed useless, but it was sweet of Kumajiro to try and lighten up his mood. To remind him that no matter what, he wasn't completely alone.

Kneeling to rub the bear's head, he opened his mouth to reply – and suddenly, he realized that Kumajiro was right. He didn't need to bring America cookies to be useful, he could also…

"Kumaruko, Alfie likes apples, doesn't he?!" he asked excitedly, jerking up.

The bear merely tilted his head to a side, but Canada didn't actually need an answer. He knew that his brother was fond of apples (to be fair, he was fond of anything that could be eaten), and, to make things better, there was no need to involve Mrs Jane to get the fruit.

Now, where do I find…

Canada's eyes lit up as he realized how maddeningly simple the solution to his dilemma was. And to think he had been close to tears a few minutes before… he was truly pathetic, but lucky enough to have Kumajiro by his side.

"Come with me, Kuma!" he squealed with excitement, "I know where to go!"

Without checking whether his familiar was following him, Canada started running as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Not far from the house, there was a big stream that cut right through the meadows, flanked by rows of wild trees. England always warned his colonies against getting too close to the water, for it was deep and the current strong, and he feared that they might not be able to best it if they were to fall in. Canada, however, had always found himself fascinated by the river, by the way the water whirled and foamed against the banks, accompanied by a strong roar. The boy had found himself often inching closer to the edge, curious to see from closer the crystalline yet potentially deadly depths.

At that moment, however, Canada's main interest didn't lie in the river, but rather, in the trees that grew around it – specifically, a big apple tree the child had discovered just over a creek of the stream. It carried big, fat apples, and he and America had more than once spent the afternoon among its branches, looking at the colourful birds and chatting as they happily munched the sweet threats.

America had laughed so much right then, his voice loud and his eyes sparkling… surely, an apple from the same tree would make him happy, wouldn't it?

Finally, slightly out of breath and with his cheeks reddened by the effort, Canada reached his destination. He took just a moment to regain his breath, placing his hands on his knees, then he was again on the move, swiftly climbing the sturdy branches with well-honed skill.

"Canada!"

The distressed sound made him stop for a moment to look down. Kumajiro was at the base of the tree, raised on his hind legs as his frontal paws pawed at the thick bark.

"You're here!" the boy commented happily. He could see that the bear's eyes were slightly widened but chalked it to his being surprised by his speed. "You can help me!"

Without waiting for an answer, Canada climbed higher, his attention focused on the small red apples that were dangling a few feet from him. They were a bit small, it wasn't exactly the right season for apples, but Canada reasoned that they would have to do. He couldn't get anything better, after all.

"Kuma, catch!" he yelled-whispered, throwing the first apple at his companion on the ground.

The bear let out a small whine of protest, but he did as he was told, piling the apples Canada threw at him beside the trunk.

"It's enough now, come down!" he called after a while.

Only then Canada realized how high he had climbed as he looked for new apples. He could see that there were other pomes dangling from higher branches, but the pile next to Kumajiro was already quite consistent, and the branch he was currently on wasn't that sturdy, climbing any higher might be dangerous.

It would have to do until lunch, he thought as he started climbing down, carefully measuring each move. Getting up had been easy, he had hardly thought about it, but climbing down always looked more difficult. The ground looked so far away, the branches so far apart for his short limbs… but America had always moved without any hesitation. If he did so, Canada could, too.

His jaw set in determination, Canada forced himself to ignore the ground and focus solely on each move. It was much easier that way.

He was halfway down when his eyes caught a glimpse of red.

The boy stopped dead, his body tensing as his eyes focused on the bright spot of colour between the leaves. In front of him, no more than a few feet away, was the biggest, brightest apple Canada had ever seen. It dangled from the extremity of a branch, smooth and inviting, as if daring him to come and get it. Canada stayed looking at it, transfixed, until Kumajiro's sudden call broke the spell.

"Come down!"

Canada started and looked down. The bear was pawing at the truck in impatience.

"You have enough, come down!"

He looked nervous and annoyed, and Canada immediately felt a little guilty for having him wait like that, but… his eyes fell on the pile of apples he had collected until then. They weren't few, and most of them were brightly coloured and smooth, but… so little. If they had looked acceptable before, now, before the luxurious fruit Canada had just discovered, they looked only pathetic excuses for apples.

Canada's eyes darted to the bigger apple. It was at the extremity of a branch that was dangling above the stream, but it looked sturdy enough. He was reasonably sure it could hold his weight. And how could he show America his pathetic harvest, after seeing that gorgeous apple? Canada would have been satisfied with the smaller apples, but his brother deserved the very best. How could he love him again if he didn't get that?

"Wait just a minute, Kuma!" he shouted down, barely sparing a glance at the fussing bear. "I just need to get that apple, I'll be right there!"

A distressed wail seeped through Kumajiro's mouth.

"Don't! It's dangerous up there!"

Canada, however, ignored him, his mind focused only on the actions needed to retrieve the fruit. Getting closer to the branch was easy, but after that, the boy realized the problem: it didn't look as strong as it had from further away, and there weren't any other branches close. Maybe it truly was too dangerous…

Canada's eyes fell again on the apple, bright and inviting. It was even bigger from closer, and his mind conjured the image of America's smile when he would set his eyes on it. He would surely love it.

The boy gritted his teeth, his brow furrowing in determination.

'I can't chicken out right now. Alfred wouldn't. I will get him that apple.'

Dismissing an ominous feeling of foreboding and Kumajiro's distressed calls, the boy started sliding across the branch, slowly and carefully. He could hear the wood creaking in protest to the added weight, and the treacherous wind was tugging at his tunic and hair, making the branch sway back and forth, but Canada ignored everything and kept moving forward. He wasn't that far away, only a few inches…

The boy stretched out his arm towards the apple. His fingertips brushed against the fruit's skin. His lips pressed tightly in concentration, Canada slowly inched forward, until his fingers triumphantly closed around his prize – and right then, a deafening crack resounded from behind him, followed by Kumajiro alarmed cry.

Canada didn't even have time to realize what had happened: a moment, he had been on the branch, then he was plunging through the air, the apple still clutched in his hand.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a panicked scream, that was cut short as soon as his body hit the water. Canada hadn't had time to prepare himself for the impact, and it violently jarred his whole body, leaving him too dazed to react.

When the child regained his bearings, water surrounded him from every side. His lungs were burning, begging for air, but for how much he kicked and flailed his arms the current was too strong, tugging at his tunic and keeping him under as it swept him away along with the river.

With a powerful thrust, Canada managed to get his head above the water, gasping for air, but a wave hit his face, making him swallow a mouthful of cold water.

He was swept under again.

Canada thrashed, desperately trying to get above to the surface, but the river was too strong for him, and each time he somehow managed to win his struggle another wave washed over him, pushing him under in an endless, nightmarish circle.

Canada was tiring rapidly. His small arms and legs ached from the effort of fighting against the current, they felt heavy as stone, and the coldness of the water certainly wasn't helping. His throat and lungs burned, they threatened to explode, but each time he opened his mouth all that he got was a mouthful of water.

He was losing the fight.

Next time he was dragged down, the child couldn't muster the strength to keep moving towards the surface. He knew he should have, he could vaguely feel his body sinking lower, but his icy limbs felt numb and heavy as stone, he couldn't even find the strength to move his arms.

He looked up as the surface grew further and further away, unreachable.

Now he did understand why England had insisted so much that he stayed away from the river. Well, it was too late.

Dimly, Canada registered that his lungs were threatening to explode, searing with pain in his chest, but everything felt oddly hollow and detached. There was no way he could reach the surface, he was too weak.

The boy vaguely wondered what was going to happen. Full grown nations were immortal, but what about colonies? Was he going to die for good, or periodically be revived only to find himself at the bottom of the river and drown again?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he should be scared, but he couldn't bring himself to care, the cold and weakness numbing his body and mind.

Suddenly, he found himself thinking about America. Would his brother even notice that he was gone? Would he be sad? Probably, he was such a nice person… but he would move on quickly. He hardly ever noticed Canada, after all. The child found himself half-relieved and half-saddened at the thought. But at least, America wouldn't hurt too much, and that was what truly mattered, didn't it?

He could almost see his brother's wide, bright light blue eyes. They were getting closer, and Canada smiled at the memory. He dimly realized that there was something wrong with the picture, America shouldn't have such an anguished expression, but then Canada exhaled the last breath he had been holding to, and his lids closed.

'I'm dying now,' he realized as water filled his mouth and lungs.

He didn't fight, relaxing his body to welcome the oncoming darkness.

(word count: 4,411)

Notes:

Soo this ends here. I hope you liked it! Next chapter will be up in a few days.

I think I should explain a few things. Canada and America's age gap is canon, there was a period, before the Revolutionary War, where Canada was still a toddler while America was growing up. Specifically, I think it's chapter 180 of Hetalia World Stars, and it's the reason I refer to Canada as the younger brother.

It's completely a headcanon of mine, instead, that England hired a few women to look after his colonies' needs. They're not actually nannies, since America and Canada mostly look after themselves, their biggest role is to look after the houses (cleaning, but also cook their meals, wash their clothes…), America and Canada are free to wander as they like.

Also, about Jane: I'm sorry she's such a one-dimensional villain-ish mean lady here, but I needed an antagonist. She actually has a bit more depth than this, there is a reason behind her attitude (aside from disliking Canada for his French origins, I mean) but since everything is filtered from Canada's POV and he doesn't know anything about what happened you don't get to see it. I hope it wasn't too horrible.

I would like to add that English isn't my first language, so there might be mistakes or oddly-phrased sentences. If you spotted anything, a warning would be welcome. :)

And please let me know what you think of this story in general!