It was hard being not noticed, never being caressed by loved ones, never hugged upon sight, no this never happened to Matthew Williams, AKA Canada. He was a lonely one. Traveling the dark, beautiful and mysterious streets of Germany. It was after the world meeting, most gone to a pub to drink or to their booked hotel. But not the near invisible blond, he was thinking, thinking about his past, how his own father soon left him as a distant thought ground out by the obnoxious, loud, egoistic American. How his seconding father figure saw him beat-up by Cuba, again thinking he was his brother, and never did anything but glare at him.
Canada was immortal. But this did not stop him from feeling pain.
The 1763 final of the colonial war. WWII, over 45,400 Canadians South African war 7,000 of his people served, 300 died fighting. Even in the Korean War 26,791 served, only 26275 returned home, the rest dead. 516, gone, forever lost.
His people dieing for serving him with honor. His people suffering because of his decisions. His people lost forever because of HIM. And Canada hated himself because of it. He couldn't kill himself, being immortal, and if he tried self-harm it would work well because he heals fast, not long enough to register the pain.
His pain was never shared, as most never saw the broken soul behind those blue eyes that tried to hide the tears that flowed. His heart behind fixing point, his soul perished, his happiness shattered.
Canada cried.
He never cried in public. It was because if someone thought that he was Alfred again, he would ruin his brother. He couldn't do that no matter how much pain he is in. He could never betray his own flesh and blood. He could never create more pain. It wasn't how he worked.
Matthew couldn't see. His eyes blurred from his downfall of tears. He couldn't speak. His voice choked up in a void. He could move, footsteps taking somewhere new each step taken. And Matthew, well he was scared.
He was in unfamiliar territory, Germany to be exact. He had none to call to help him. No one to shelter this shaking, tearful nation.
Or so he thought….
It was lonely in his bed. No comfort came from the black and white impaled sheets, Gilbert was tired but he couldn't sleep. He felt as though there was something missing. He ,too, began to think of his past. Not the good days but the haunting memories of death, pain, loss, everything that could ever hurt a person put into one trance. Prussia was tired. Tired of everything. When Old Fritz died, he was devastated. Even though he soon found West, his heart never mended, forever broken. His heart a glass dome that refused to heal.
He was hot but cold, even with one foot out of the tangle of blankets his face felt of fire and his torso felt of ice. His red eyes adjusted to the darkness, before stepping on the cold wooden floor to see where West be at.
He traveled the long, empty hallways searching for his brother. Stopping only until he was in front of Ludwig's room. His pale, clammy hand rested on the door knob, waiting to turn it and open the door. What was stopping him? Well it could be the fact of fear or it could be the fact of muffled moans reaching his sharp toned ears.
His only brother was having fun whilst he wither in darkness. Prussia thought some more, but this time of what to do. He was lonely, most of his 'friends' will be sleeping, not a bitter thought crossing their minds. He was tired, but could not sleep. He was sad, but never would cry.
Prussia could count each time he cried. Each time worst than the previous. He remembered the day Old Fritz died, he cried himself to sleep that day. But the one thing that made him cry the most was the grey, sour day that the Allies put up the Berlin wall. Separated from his only member of family Prussia cried day in day out 'till he could cry no more. He hated the silence, and he still does to this day. His ego acts as a cover for his lonely sadness.
Prussia grabbed a coat and tugged on some track pants before heading out into the dark streets of Germany, Berlin to be exact. He laughed a the day his brother and him built their house on the ruins of the cold wall. He was happy again to be with his brother. He cried happy tears that day, the one time his brother saw him cry, he cried happy tears, tears of joy.
Out on the street Gilbert thought some more, his feet traveling in the looming night.
He had never really traveled this way before. He wasn't even looking where he was going. Too late to look up now. Walking straight into another person knocking him and the other guy to the ground.
"Oww, oh, dude i'm so sorry" Prussia confessed to the figure under him. He helped himself up, only hold out a hand for the familiar face looking dazed and unsure.
"Gil-Gilbert?" A shy voice stuttered out. Prussia looked down again shocked to see Matthew, with tears streaming down his pale cheeks.
"Oh god, Matt? I am so sorry dude, I wasn't looking where I was going. Wait why are you out here, shouldn't you be in your hotel?" That was the worst thing to ask. Canada broke out more tears.
Prussia had know idea what to do when suddenly, Canada stopped.
"You...You can see me?" Startled Prussia replied shyly.
"Yeah… Of course I-I can see you Matt"
A ghost of a smile caressed Canada's pale, bleeding lips. Prussia noticed other injuries littering Matt's body as well.
"Come with me please, Matthew."
Matthew looked up tears still streaming. He took the hand offered and stood up.
Prussia had no idea what he was doing, taking Matt home. He held his hand the whole time. Walking in silence, god how he hated the silence. His own memory push down against him. He thought as to why Canada had the cuts and bruises along the bare skin he could see.
"W-why are you helping me?" Prussia thought for a bit.
"Because...Because no one deserves to be alone."
Silence, once again, overtook them. Canada knew where he was going because Prussia had held many parties before. He was going to his house. Why, he had no idea. He was injured, unloved, crying and heartbroken. How could anyone, especially Gilbert, help him.
He entered Gilbert's room, heart pounding, palms sweating. What was Prussia planning.
"Canada, can you sit down there please? I will be back in a moment." Canada nodded in response, still unsure.
About 5 minutes later, Gilbert returned carrying a small black box and what looked like a towel. Canada heard the door snap close and the click of a lock being placed. He was curious as to what was inside that box.
" W-what do you have there" Canada asked, jerking his head towards the black box.
"Huh, oh this is a first aid kit. I noticed that your bleeding at the base of your neck, also you look pretty shaken."
"oh,y-yeah you could say that…"
Prussia bent down to Matts level. Looking directly into his blue orbs. Canada looked away, frightened of might happen. Prussia sighed.
"Who did it?"
"D-d-did w-what?" Gilbert sighed again.
"Who hurt you?" Matthew lowered his gaze to the floor. Without looking back up he muttered under his breath a single name. But one that confused the Albino.
"I-I… did this to me"
The Albino stared, red eyes wide. He didn't believe it. Not for one second.
"No...No you're lying. You-You could never do this to your self. Who did this Matt, who?"
Matt found the floor very interesting. He wasn't lying, really. He had done this to himself. But not the physical wounds Prussia could see.
"C-Cuba….He thought I was Alfred….Again"
Prussia looked away, into the black box. He seemed to be thinking.
"Canada…Look at me please" Matthew looked up into Gilbert's red orbs.
"You didn't do anything wrong… I-I know how you feel right now… You don't know how I feel...So let me… Tell you"
For the next twenty minutes Canada listened intently to Prussia. He explained how he hates silence and how he hates his looks and being left-handed, as it is a sign of the devil, Prussia talked endlessly while covering open wounds to speed the healing process.
Canada took a liking to the Albino.
Gilbert finished covering the wounds he could see. He stood up, stretching. He felt relieved to have talked to someone that could listen without interruption.
Prussia fancied the blond.
"Gil...T-thank you…"
Prussia adverted his gaze back to Matt.
"No problem…"
Prussia leaned forward slowly, leaning into Canada. He slowly pressed his lips against Matthew's swollen and still bleeding ones. They sat like that for a while, eyes closed, lips joint, hearts fluttering. It was a dawn of a new era.
"I-I...Love you Matthew…." Gilbert whispered as they broke the kiss.
"I… Love you too" Prussia cried.
He cried for the 6th time in his life, but only the 2nd time that his tears were one of joy.