Disclaimer: I don't own these delicious morsels of national personifications. Enjoy~!
"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
~ Martin Luther King Jr. (1929-1968)
Canada ground his teeth, frowning harshly at the mirror. His curl rounded over his forehead and his dark blue eyes glared. He scowled.
Why?
Why did he have to be a twin with him?
Why?
Why America, of all people?
His harsh appearance glared back at him. Canada didn't like it. He looked mean and angry. He looked nothing like what everyone (rarely) saw, nothing like the invisible Canada.
Canada sighed, eyes softening, shoulders giving in. He fell onto the desk, arms sprawled lazily over the counter. The mirror's reflection stared unflinchingly back, still. Canada didn't want to hate him. He really, really didn't. He liked America. But sometimes, the young nation's obnoxious, un-fearful boasting made Canada mad. He clenched the gel and dye tighter in his fists.
Canada peeked back at the mirror. He felt guilty. He didn't want to look at himself, but he did. His dark blue eyes tilted back at him. They were nothing like America's eyes, he noted dryly. America had light, unstressed blue eyes that just shouted at the world for attention and love. His eyes looked like the morning's clear sky. Canada's eyes looked like the dull night; so very dark and shadowed.
Canada dropped his gaze once more.
He had to head out soon. The meeting would start, with him there or not.
Canada eyed the mirror again before giving up completely. Quietly, he wondered aloud, "If I really did change, would people even notice me?" He smiled sadly. "Or would it all be for nothing?"
Canada bit his lip. He liked his curl and hair color.
He liked his darker eyes.
Was he really going to change all that because he was—
Because he was—
—Jealous?
Jealous of the nation who acted like he was child? Jealous of the boy that yelled all the time? Jealous of his attention and love.
Canada sighed again, struggling to make his mask of serenity. He glared finally at the mirror before deeming it time to leave. Pushing the objects back into a random open folder — he'd fix them later, he wasn't in the mood now — Canada stood. He didn't have enough time to change anything, anyway. Plus, Canada put it on his mental to-do list, he needed to throw out that mirror.
When Canada arrived, panting slightly from his run, he slid into his seat unnoticed. The other countries talked amongst themselves, the meeting seemingly delayed a few minutes. Canada grew worried as he caught his breathe. Someone was missing. Canada looked around, eying each country for the missing one. Oh, he realized, the missing one was—
America burst in, doors slammed open with a harsh vheeesh!
Canada couldn't help but to scowl as his eyes slid over to the open door. He thought, angrily, how America would deal if everyone ignored him instead.
America was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. The older twin suddenly grew anxious. What was wrong?
But all Canada's sympathy left as the man laughed his obnoxious guffaw. "Hahahahaha! The hero has now arrived!" America laughed, smiling his trademark grin all the way to his seat.
Canada didn't hear England's insults, he didn't hear France's accented laugh that pierced hollowly around his ears. He couldn't hear China, or Japan, or any of the others. All he could hear was America. America, prattling off to anyone who would listen, about what an amazing hero he was. How he was so freakin' epic, so great.
So much better than his silent, devoid brother, Canada.
The meeting passed by relatively fast. Canada didn't bother to listen too avidly; none of it was really directed at him anyway.
When the talks and announcements ended, Canada slid off his seat and left without a sound or word. He was almost hoping, a sad kind of hope that he knew wasn't going to be answered, that someone would notice his leave and call for him. But as his steps continued making no sounds on the nice marble floor, Canada sniffled.
He was alone in the hallway.
So alone.
Canada pictured America in the conference room. He was probably being surrounded by all the countries. They all loved him, thought him powerful and noticeable. They all ignored Canada, because Canada was weak; he was nothing like America.
Canada's gaze fell to the floor. They were right, of course.
...o0o...
Canada fell down. Again. But he wasn't giving up. Reaching up once more, he tightly knit his fists around the vine. Leaves already coated his hair, but Canada didn't even notice. He wanted to sit up on the wall, bask in the cool night, and forget about his troubles. Finally, after hours of trouble, the big country lifted himself up to the top of the bricked wall.
He leaned on the old, eroding rock. Locking his knees to his chest, he eyed the sky. They blended in, dark on dark.
"HEY!"
Canada jumped, eyes widening and pupils growing.
"OI, CANADA!"
Canada bit his lip and wondered if America would leave if he didn't say anything. He looked down at the American, who looked so small on the ground.
America had his hands cupped together over his mouth. The brunette was out of his normal attire now, not even having his all-loved bomber jacket. He wore a hooded shirt instead, a pretty light blue color that brought out his eyes. Canada jumped again as America hollered even louder. Then, America looked straight at him. And smiled. And waved.
Canada smiled back on instinct, pulling a hand away from his knees to wave shyly back.
Next, surprising the reserved brother immensely, America began climbing up the wall. Before Canada could fret over the possibilities — what if America fell and broke his leg? What if America made it up? Would it be rude if he said he was going back down as soon as the American arrived? — America popped his head up next to his brother country.
"Hey, dude. What'cha doin' out here?"
"Eh?" Canada blinked before replying hastily, "Oh, nothing, America. Nothing."
America laughed, slapping Canada on the back. The nation wobbled, fearing he'd fall over the edge, before he steadied himself.
The two lapsed into a silence. Canada feared looking at America, instead focusing on the curious loops woven around his shoes. It didn't matter to America, though, for he was already staring up at the dark sky.
After a few more silent moments, America, being America, grinned and exclaimed loudly, "It's totally awesome here, dude!"
Canada nodded feebly, picking at the grass poking out between some cracked bricks.
"Y'know," America continued, "I love the night."
Canada tilted his head in surprise. He looked over at America, but the younger twin was looking at the sky. America turned and smiled at him then, looking right at him, before grinning up at the stars once more.
Canada swallowed. He pulled his knees closer to his chest. "Why? When the sun's out it's more pretty."
"Dude, Matthew, come on man!" Canada wondered what America was prattling about this time. He didn't have to wait long. "The night's the best part of the day!"
Canada didn't feel like arguing, or even correcting the imbecile, so he instead nodded halfheartedly.
America grinned at him again. "Bro?" Canada hummed, still picking at the grass. "When it's night, people dream, and dreaming gives people hope."
"The sun gives people warmth, sight, and joy," Canada deadpanned.
America pursed his lips. Then he smiled cheek to cheek. "The moon gives people light in their darkness."
Canada sighed, lifting his hands to his chest. "Don't be stupid, America." Canada looked over his shoulder for a brief moment before turning to the new-coming stars. "The moon gets its light from the sun."
"So you agree that they work together?"
Canada blinked, and blinked again. "What?"
Alfred shifted his feet. "Y'know, that when it's night, the moon needs the sun – working together 'nd all."
Matthew looked at Alfred pointedly. "What about when it's daytime? Where is the moon then, eh?"
Alfred looked to Canada, surprised. In a quiet voice, out of character for the American, he asked, "Have you never seen the moon out when the sun is too?" Alfred beamed suddenly, voice rising back to the American's normal octave, not even waiting for Canada's shake. "The moon gives people something to look at without having to see the totally too bright sun!"
Alfred smiled at him before his eyes flicked back to the sky. Matthew arched his head, following Alfred's line of sight, and smiled briefly at the full moon.
"See Orion? His belt is the easiest part to see!" Alfred pointed to the constellation. Then, the younger country began bubbling about the Dippers and whatnot.
Matthew hummed. "See Canis Minor, eh?"
"Where's that?"
Matthew pointed to two stars near Cancer. One was brighter than the other and they connected to form a glowing line in both the twins' minds.
Alfred chuckled. "How is that a dog?"
Matthew smiled brightly. "No clue."
Alfred turned his head to meet his brother's eyes. Matthew smiled back at him, not even thinking of averting his eyes until after the moment passed.
They could make it work. They could work together, he realized. Matthew grinned up at the dark sky.
.
.
.
Author's Note: I wrote this, like, two years ago and have never really wanted to post it, but I kind of like it now… so here ya go! Thanks for reading, lovelies~! Please review! (Oh, and did you notice how at the beginning it was all nation/formal names, and then at the very end it was Alfred and Matthew? I'm so subtle. :D)
EDIT: Check out this beautiful fancomic by Japan Sakura for Sky Blue: www . theotaku fancomics / view / 10804 / sky_blue / 0