He didn't mind. Really, he didn't. He didn't mind being unnoticed, or being forgotten, or ignored. Why would he mind? Would he mind because no one knew when his birthday was? Or because no one ever tried to stop him from hurting himself? Or would he mind because no one ever comforted him when he was hurting? No, he didn't mind. That would've been rude. And selfish. Matthew Williams most definitely did not want to be selfish.
He sat on his front porch, watching the colors in the sky change with an almost melancholy and resigned stare. Blonde hair fluttered in the small breeze, mystic, lavender eyes taking in every detail of the world before him. His people hung flags high in the air, faces painted in the colors of his heart. Their voices rang out in French and English, mixed in every possible way, singing his song. They would be the only ones celebrating today. If he were human, he would hate them. They were so happy on this day, when he couldn't find the willpower to even try to be happy. However, he was a nation, and they were his people. He loved them for celebrating this day, he loved them so much that he walked into their crowd, unwillingly, and sang with them, 'so that they would be happy', he convinced himself. It wasn't because he felt like he needed to remind and be reminded of who he was. It was because they would be happy if he joined. So he walked amidst them, singing, as the sky changed from the deep blue of the ocean to the flaring orange of determination. No, he didn't mind being forgotten, today of all days. No matter how much people forgot him, he would forever know who he was. An arm was slung around him by a man he didn't know, but somehow knew everything about. He laughed and sang, perhaps, a little prouder. He didn't mind. Who cared that it was his birthday, and no one had called him? "O' Canada!"
His pale hand knocked on the door, one, two, three times. "Yo, Mattie! Thanks for coming!" His brother was decked out in his most patriotic clothing, as it was, after all, his birthday party. Canada smiled shyly, "No problem." For a second, he was tempted to ask that question that had been bugging him, although he knew the answer. 'Do you know what day it was three days ago?' The answer would be, of course, in the most oblivious way possible, 'July the first! Duh!' Then he would laugh, pat Canada on the back, and tell him to buy a calendar. Canada had one, though. It was hanging in his kitchen, as America would know, if he ever bothered to visit. Canada smiled at his brother as they walked into the party room, he didn't want to seem rude. Everyone was smiling and laughing, France was trying to molest Prussia, who was bothering Spain, who was doting on Romano, who was arguing with England, who was being watched by the creepy Russian in the corner, because he was holding a bottle of vodka. Canada greeted all of them, even though it went unnoticed in all the hustle and bustle. He took a seat near the refreshment stand, after putting his present to his brother on the table with all the other presents. (All of which were much bigger and probably much grander than the Canadian's.) (Except for England's.) (Canada had a vague idea that it was a dictionary.) He grabbed a cup of pop and started drinking it slowly, content at how everyone was interacting. The atmosphere in the room was just so nice, even if he wasn't included in it. His eyes felt misty all of the sudden, and he half-wondered why he felt so bad, it was America's birthday, he should be congratulating him and laughing, laughing as if he didn't mind. Which he didn't. So why were there tears rolling down his face?
Canada grinned, "Come on, Kuma-chan!" He ran to the front door, where he had heard a knock. He flung the door open, ready to greet whoever was there. Instead of the people he had invited, though, there was a mailman. He handed him some letters and wished him a good day, before walking down the porch steps and out into the cool, dark night. Canada sighed, "I guess they're just late." His little bear looked up at him, "Who?" Canada made a small whining noise in his throat, "I'm Canada! Your owner!" He sat down at the kitchen table and eyed the turkey he had made earlier that day. 'No,' he reminded himself, 'it would be rude to start without them.' Even though it was eleven p.m. and they had agreed to be there at eight. He grabbed a slice of pie and began munching on it, unable to help himself. "Do you think they'll get here, Kuma-chan?" If Kumajiro could have been a human, he would have called Canada an idiot, told him to eat something, and go to sleep. Sadly, though, Kumajiro was not a human, so he just uttered a small, slightly defeated "Who?" Canada snuggled with him, "Canada." They sat together at the table, Canada eating and chattering aimlessly to Kumajiro, who nibbled on some pancakes and occasionally said the only word he seemed capable of speaking, "Who?" Every time Kumajiro said that, Canada would almost smile, and respond the practiced line with ease, "Canada."
Canada laughed as England and France kissed under the mistletoe, England just seemed so much less angry these days. Russia held a struggling Prussian in his lap as Spain laughed at them, one arm around Romano. "Stupid Frog, you put that there!" Canada smiled a heart-warming smile, and stood up. He really wasn't in a good mood today, even though it seemed like he was. He put his presents to everyone on the kitchen table, "Hey, Alfred, I'm leaving." His brother looked over at him, surprised, "Hey, Mattie, when did you get here?" Canada sighed, "About two hours ago." The American blinked, "Oh. Sorry!" Canada smiled, "It's fine. Kuma-chan's hungry, so I'll be heading home." He walked towards the door, selfishly hoping that his brother would, for once, sense the mood, and try to stop him. He was sick of acting like he didn't mind everyone forgetting him, he wanted someone to know how he felt, and comfort him. It especially hurt to see America forget him. He had been in love with his brother for, hm, about forever? "Hey, Mattie, wait!" America grabbed his arm and pulled him to one of the many rooms in England's house, where the party was located. "Mattie, you haven't seemed alright lately. What's up?" Canada blinked back tears he didn't want to fall, "I-I...I can't say it. It would be selfish." America glared at him uncharacteristically, "Mattie, just tell me!" Canada took a deep breath and looked away from America, he didn't want his brother to see him break down. "I'm sick of being forgotten, Alfred. Really, I am. I tried not to mind. Did you even know it was my birthday on July 1st?" The first tears slipped from his eyes, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. America blinked. "And on your birthday! I tried my best to be happy for you, I did, but I couldn't help it, and I started crying! No one noticed, and no one tried to comfort me." He wiped his overflowing eyes with one red sleeve, his favorite hoodie. "For Thanksgiving! You guys had promised to come visit me, so we could all celebrate it together! I stayed up until eleven waiting for you guys, and no one came! I just gave up then. You know? It's pointless trying to get you guys to remember me, it never works. So yeah, after today, I'll go back to being ignored. I'm resigned to it. It's fine." Even as he spoke, his voice cracked, and he held his hands over his eyes, trying to make them stop watering. "Mattie..." His brother stepped forward and hugged him, sliding to the floor with him as Canada collapsed to his knees. "Mattie, I'm sorry. For everything." He hugged him a little tighter, feeling more and more guilt every time that Canada hiccupped. "I'm really sorry about everything. I forgot, it's my fault that you're like this. I'm sorry. I love you Mattie, I love you." His brother never stopped crying, he didn't think he was able to. "I love you, I love you, I love you." America held his brother in his arms until he fell asleep, then carried him to the bed in the guest room, and crawled onto it with him. He didn't want to leave Canada alone, not again. He was determined to never leave him alone again. He loved him, he didn't want to see him hurt like that.
Canada yawned, awake. His eyes hurt a little, probably from crying so much last night. Last night...had his brother really meant it? Was he really loved? A body stirred next to him, smiling and rubbing its eyes, "Morning, Mattie!" He leant down and kissed him lightly, smiling all the way. Canada blinked, a blush slowly covering his face. "Morning, Alfred." He kissed him and hugged him, feeling slightly giddy from joy. "Haha!" America hugged him back, and they lay there, feeling totally content.
A/N: Wah, sorry about the crappy ending! I know it takes effort, but please review! Thank you for reading! The next part should be coming out soon! The next part is going to be Spamano, so please look forward to it!