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"England? Matt's dead."
"What? Who's dead?"
"Matt. Canada. He's dead. I don't know what happened he just… Died."
England frowned and put down his newspaper. "What do you mean he's dead? A nation can't die."
"Well, apparently a nation can die because Matt is f***ing dead!"
"Hold on I'll be right over."
"Okay. But hurry. I don't know what to do." There was a quiet sob. "I'm scared."
"I'm on my way."
.oOo.
When England arrived an hour later he found the door was open, letting in the rain. He ran inside, his jacket collar popped against the wind and cold. When he got inside he closed the door. A quiet sobbing came from the next room over and he followed the sound, not bothering to remove his jacket or shoes.
The next room was the living room. An overly large flat screen TV was mounted on the closest wall, spewing static and noise. It was the only thing that lit the room and facing it was a couch. America was crouched next to the couch, bent over and crying. Around his figure England could just make out a mess of blond hair.
He approached cautiously and looked over his brother's shoulder. There on the couch, laid out flat, was none other then Canada, his sweater wrinkled and his glasses askew. He certainly looked dead.
England crouched down and put a hand on America's shoulder making him start and emit a small squeak. The younger turned his head slightly to look at the elder out of the corner of his eye. Tears streaked his face and he looked incredibly pale.
"What happened?"
America shook his head helplessly. "I don't know," he said between sobs. "We were watching a movie and I went to make some popcorn. When I came back the TV was all weird and Matt was dead." His voice broke on the last word and another round of tears poured from his eyes.
England reached forward and put two fingers to Canada's neck to check for a pulse. His skin was clammy and his lips were blue. There was no pulse. He withdrew his hand and wrapped his arms around America. The sobbing nation huddled in his embrace and continued to cry.
Looking around the room it wasn't obvious that this was murder. Everything seemed to be in it's proper place, but to England's keen eye it was obvious. A pillow lay forgotten on the floor next to Canada's head and the blue lips showed he had died of asphyxiation.
Someone had been here and someone had killed his baby brother. And someone was going to pay.
Hi.
Welcome to the Author's Note where I can say whatever I want and you can skip it if you don't feel like reading my ramblings. Anyways this was a spur of the moment kind of thing, I side story if you will. Because what I do to deal with writer's block it I write something else. This is that something else.
DISCLAMOR! Don't own Hetalia.
Please review! :D