A/N [November 7, 2013]: Heyy~! Been awhile, huh? Well, this isn't really a new story. This is from my other account MaplePancakes, of which I decided to clear up to make way for future Kuroko no Basuke fan fiction, haha. I've been obsessed with KuroBas since last year, I'm sorry. ;w; So, enjoy this (possibly) last piece of Hetalia fan fiction from meeeeeeee~ Don't kill me. ;w;
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He's used to it he said, but it was still unfair. Only in rare moments where circumstance finally gets does he run up to his room, sobbing, thrashing, demanding answers from someone, anyone:
"Why am I so unnoticeable?"
All he had is a bear – a stuffed toy bear. It is his only friend. He has had it for as long as he could remember. Its white velvety fur always calms him down. As a child, he'd cry all night until his parents and brother comes home; they'd go out for dinner or just have a family day out while he has left alone in his room, forgotten. They always forget there were four of them in the family.
He never once thought of suicide. Unfortunately, the world just wants him to die. He did not like the idea of death. To him, death will only worsen his situation. He was already forgotten in the first place. If he died forgotten now, what's the slightest chance that someone would notice him?
He had the same face as his brother, but they aren't real brothers. Still, he had the same features; why isn't he loved like his brother? Why is he forgotten?
He did not have any romantic love of some sort. He never fell for anyone. Sometimes he was convinced that no love was meant for him. It was either he'd die alone or suffer a one-sided relationship. They do say that if you cannot love yourself then no one will love you. It was true for him. He hates himself.
He was from Canada. He knew from his search for his files and documents in the house—he dares not call it his home; the place was never his home. He wanted to return to his homeland. He decided to run away, but he was intercepted. Suddenly, his brother, Alfred pours all his attention to him. Was it a good thing? Was being chained to his bed a good thing?
He loved the colors red and white. The way the two colors go together. It was because he sees the red as blood; blood that he can never draw out from himself. The white, he says, was pure and clear but sullied by the crimson that is the liquid of life flowing in all living beings. Blood splattered all over his soul, beautiful. If he only he had the courage, if only…
"If only I could end my life already." He concludes despite his tears.
Today he just stares out of his window, perched on the side, sitting on his bed, watching kids play in the street. He never played with others as a child. No one knew him enough to cry out his name when it was play time.
A knock startles him. A familiar voice called for his name. This wasn't the attention he wanted. Did he deserve this? Was he so useless to the eyes of others? He didn't wrong anyone—he hadn't interacted with enough people to think that he had hurt someone. Was his voice that small, quiet? Why? What did he do?
"Open the door, Mattie."
He buried himself under the sheets. "P-please not t-today…" he stuttered.
The bedroom door was forced open. He yelped as the sheets covering his body were ripped away from him. He was naked but he was clean. He felt filthy though.
His brother smashed their lips together despite his protests. His wrists were held above his head and his legs were pinned down under his brother's. He did not know if anyone knew of this or if his parents cared at all. Would anyone care at all? He's nothing now. He had no dignity.
"A-Alfred! Pl-please stop…"
His brother chuckled lowly and licked his neck. "Why? You seem to like it," His brother whispered and rubbed their nether regions together. He gasped. "Ah, yes. You like it, a lot, my dear Matthew."
Suddenly, he was on his knees. On the bed, in front of him was not his brother.
In front of him was a laptop.
Canada screamed.
"America, what the fuck is this?"he yelled and scurried footsteps came up the stairs of their shared home. Like predicted, the blond nation came into his room—almost like what he had just read just now only with a different expression and intention. Canada fumed. "What the hell is this?" he said and gestured to the laptop where a document flashed brightly on the screen. America blanched and laughed awkwardly.
"Aha, well—I can explain!" America griped. His northern neighbor hissed and threw his laptop at him. Fortunately, he caught the device before it could hit the wall. "Chill, bro! It's just a story!"
"That you wrote! What the fuck!"
America frowned. "What's wrong with that? We're dating anyway." He said and dodged a lamp.
"I question your sanity, America. Delete that document, take it down from all the sites you uploaded it in and stop writing fan fiction!"
"No way," America huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Canada sputtered. "People actually like my writing. Why should I stop? At least I only write. Japan draws."
"Y-y-y-you!"
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A/N [January 1, 2012]: This? It's just a random drabble. Hope you enjoyed it. Originally, it was supposed to be a serious PruCan story. But then my friends made me laugh and it evolved to this. Aha~