Loss

Canada numbly brushed the hair from his brother's face, his hand trembling slightly as he let it fall limply to his side. Nearby, England cried soundlessly into Japan's shoulder.

It couldn't be real. He had to be trapped in a horrific nightmare. His brother couldn't be-

"America," he whispered. "Wake up. This isn't funny. Y-you can't-… Not you. S-so stop kidding around."

He felt a hand on his shoulder but shrugged it away. He didn't need to be comforted. His brother wasn't-

Any minute he would open his eyes and tease Arthur for crying. Any moment he'd sit up, grinning, and say: "Man, I got you good this time, bro!"

Canada waited with baited breath, his chest aching. Any second now.

America continued to lie perfectly still. Too still.

Canada's bottom lip began to wobble, his voice cracking as he spoke again. The tightness in his chest pulled more taut. "A-America, come on. Wake up!"

The hand returned to his shoulder, gently pulling him away from the bed. He didn't struggle. He didn't push them away. Static filled his ears, blocking out all other sound. He was aware of someone speaking to him, but it was muffled so badly that he understand anything they were saying.

All he could focus on was America.

America lying there, still as stone. His eyes were closed and there was such a peaceful expression on his face that Canada could trick himself into believing his brother was only sleeping.

China moved into view, his eyes red and his cheeks wet with tears as he gently pulled a sheet over America, hiding him from view.

All at once, Canada's hearing returned. England gave a muffled sob as Japan gently hugged him, for once pushing aside his dislike of close personal contact in order to comfort his friend. He could hear Italy murmuring a prayer as he clutched the German crosses around his neck, the only things he had left of Germany and Prussia.

But if he could see everyone who was left, then that meant the person holding him was…

"Russia," he whispered brokenly, tilting his head to look up at the tall nation. With a jolt, he realized there were tears slowly rolling down Russia's face. "Y-you're crying."

"You're not," Russia noted, his accent thicker than usual but his voice just as steady and calm as ever.

Canada shakily lifted a hand to touch his own cheeks, surprised to find them dry. "I'm not…"

Russia gently turned the other nation around so they were facing one another. "It's okay to cry, Canada."

Canada wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that it was Russia who was comforting him, telling him that crying was okay. Maybe it was England's broken sobs intermingled with words directed at America. Maybe it was Kumajiro working up the strength to pad over and rub against his leg and the accompanying "It's okay, Canada," murmured by the polar bear.

He closed his eyes, leaned into Russia, and cried silently.