Watch As I Fade…
Watch as I fade from here, from this world, this life, as my pleas for help fall on deaf ears. And still you laugh as I fade to nothing. I watch as my heart twists and my stomach churns as you smile and mess about with your friends while I am left in the shade, forever confined to walking in the shadows while I die. My deep purple and green aura, unlike Russia's, burns with loneliness and hatred for just being me. My tears fall silently as you look right through me and I can only hold my bear, my little white bear, close as I cry into his soft white fur. Everyone, even you, mistake me for my brother. Alfred. America. The popular one. And no one ever remembers me. Matthew. Canada. The quiet one. I sigh sadly as I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving the meeting room and walking down the hall silently, mourning myself.
England looked up and frowned, sure he had seen someone leave the room. He raised his hand to America who was currently talking and excused himself, leaving at a brisk pace. America shrugged and started up a simple, casual, conversation with the other Allies. England carried on down the corridor in pursuit of who had left, certain it was a nation. But who? What nation had left? He could feel the presence of someone coming down this corridor, their recent aura still leaving a fresh trail behind them. England's frown deepened as he saw muddy bootprints leading down the corridor.
He turned a corner and saw a 'ghost'. His face paled as he followed, almost in a trance, the ghost down the corridor. But this one, unlike many others he'd seen before, looked too real to be a mere ghost. Perhaps this was the nation he was chasing? He was certain he'd seen that dirty-blonde hair before and that stray curl... He blinked and the ghost was gone in the split second he'd blinked. England sighed as he carried on down the corridor quietly, hoping to find this missing nation.
Then his stomach churned. On the floor he'd seen blood, thick and viscous as it shone in the lighting of the empty corridor. England slowly knelt, removing his black glove with his teeth before dipping a cautious finger into the blood. He cringed at how fresh it was, not congealing yet, and he brough the substance up to his mouth and nose. The nation smelled it and instantly he went white with fear. He knew this smell. It was so familiar. Always a lingering smell that was around whenever all the Allies thought there was a ghost in the meeting room. Maple syrup. It was smelling like maple syrup. And there was only one nation who loved maple syrup that much. Canada. England began to panic as he stood, ditching his black glove and sprinting down to Canada's room, his heart filling with panic.
"CANADA!" England shouted, freaking out at finding the door to be locked. He rattled the doorknob in panic before pressing his ear to the door, listening closely to any signs of movement. All he could he was a soft whine from the bear, Kumajirou.
"Kuma! Open this door!" England barked harshly, rattling the doorknob again as soft words could be heard from within.
"No... Don't do it Kuma... I don't want him to see me like this..." Canada said softly and almost weakly. But there was an underlying tone, one that made England's heart pound faster as he powered up a spell, gripping the doorknob and blasting it off with the touch of the spell. He kicked open the door and was met with a sickening sight. Canada, the sweet if ignored nation was curled up on his bed, his suit jacket discarded over the back of his chair, and not moving. But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no, there was blood everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, even on Kuma and the ceiling. Canada slowly sat up and turned to face the grossed nation.
"Do you like it...?" Canada said slowly as a sickly insane grin spread across his face. He stood and England saw the knife in Canada's hands glinting and shining with blood. He automatically took a step backwards, gagging as he saw the blood dripping from Canada's cheeks and wrists.
"Canada... Why would you do this...?" England said shakily, his eyes wide in fear.
"Because it's pain-relief... Pain to treat the pain..." he said simply and softly, holding the handle of the knife and raising it to his wrist, cutting another line. England felt himself tense as he saw the crimson substance well from the cut and drip down onto the floor. Beneath the Canadian's bed England could see Kumajirou hiding and trembling, his fur matted with Canada's blood.
"No... Stop it Canada! This isn't you!" England cried out weakly, his throat closing up slightly as he held back a sob of fright.
"What would you know?!" Canada snapped, his face contorting into a hate-ridden glare, "You never take any notice of me! None of you! Not even my own brother! I'm always ignored! Always!" he half-screamed, digging the blade deeper into his wrists in anger and hurt. England flinched, stepping back and away from the insane nation.
"Canada..." England said softly, tears filling his green eyes as he raised them to look into the glaring violet ones, "Please... I don't ignore you..."
"Yes you do!"
"No! Canada! I don't!" England shouted, glaring as he clenched his fists, "I don't ignore you! I just can't bring myself to speak to you out of nerves!" Canada froze, dropping the knife in the process.
"W... What...?" Canada said, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief. England sighed.
"I don't ignore you... How could I when I love you?" he said, looking down and letting his fists relax. Canada approached the pale nation, tears filling his own eyes too as he took England's hands and raised his head.
"Arthur..." he said softly, wrapping England into a hug and letting him cry into his shoulder. Instantly he regretted hurting himself, cutting his wrists just to let go of the pain, of the hurt and of the anger he felt inside him. It wasn't worth it, not if it hurt someone like this.
"Never again..." Canada said, hugging England close.
"Please... I can't stand you doing this..." England cried, his body trembling.
"I won't England, not again," Canada said, "I love you too much to..." England looked up with tear-filled eyes and that was when Canada moved. Slowly and softly, the taller nation captured the shorter nation's lips in a soft, gentle kiss.