Summary: Despite their concern and condolences, they don't understand. None of them understand just how deep the hurt runs…except for Canada. Dedicated to the victims of the Connecticut shooting and the Montreal Massacre. No pairings. Lots and lots of family fluff.
SkyGem: Well minna-san, I'm sure most of you have heard about the shooting at that elementary school in Connecticut? I was absolutely devastated when I heard, and I couldn't help but want to write something about it, and since the anniversary of the Montreal Massacre wasn't too long ago, this came about. I hope you all enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own APH.
"Are you holding up alright, mon cher?"
Shut up…
"How are you coping, lad?"
Shut up!
"Ve~ do you need a shoulder to cry on?"
SHUT UP!
Forcing a smile onto his face, America reassured the other nations that he was fine and hurried to start the meeting.
As the day went on, though, the blond nation started finding it harder and harder to maintain his cheerful charade and to keep up his usual senseless chatter.
The eyes, constantly watching his every word, no longer gave him a sense of importance, but made him feel suffocated.
All those eyes, showing pity and sympathy were starting to annoy him…all except for one.
There was only one pair of eyes that showed a genuine interest in what he was saying, one pair of eyes that weren't preoccupied with the tragedy that had occurred not too long ago.
And they belonged to Canada, to his brother Matthew.
The blond just watched silently as he always did, taking notes, and when the meeting was over for the day, he was the first to claim America's time.
Grabbing onto his brother's arm, Canada steered him out of the meeting room and to the parking lot, leaving the rest of the nations in bewilderment.
"M-Mattie? Where are we going? I drove here!" America informed his brother, but the younger blond just shook his head.
"I bought a small apartment not too far from here recently. We're going there. I can bring you back to get your car tomorrow."
America was about to argue before deciding it wasn't worth it and following his brother.
When Matthew got like this, there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise.
And not to mention that he usually knew what was best.
And so, the two America brothers were wrapped in a rather comfortable silence as they drove to Matthew's cozy little apartment on the outskirts of New York city, as close to the border as possible without getting too far from the conference building.
Stepping through the doorway, America felt himself reflexively relax, his eyes taking in all the little details of his brother's home.
It was a sweet little place, decorated in warm browns, bright reds, and pure whites.
There was evidence everywhere that it was a proud Canadian living here, and America couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he took off his jacket and took a seat on the couch as Matthew went upstairs for a few minutes before returning with a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms and a huge, comfortably baggy sweatshirt, similar to the clothes he was now wearing.
As his brother went into the kitchen, Alfred felt the smile on his face widen as he began to strip down and change into the clothes his brother had so generously lent him for the upcoming movie night.
About ten minutes later, both brothers were snuggled close together on the couch, steaming cups of hot chocolate held in their hands, as they watched a movie the two of them had particularly loved as children.
And so the rest of the afternoon passed lazily, and somewhere along the way, Alfred found himself with his head on his brother's lap, clutching at the boy's pant legs as he tried to keep the tears in his eyes from falling due to the lovely reunion scene that was happening on the television screen.
Matthew was similarly emotional, but felt no need to hold in the tears, and they were dripping down his chin to be absorbed by his t-shirt, his hands running through Alfred's hair.
By the time the movie was over, both boys were slightly more composed, and when the credits began rolling onto the screen, Alfred let out a content little sigh.
Matthew made no move to untangle his hands from Alfred's hair, and Alfred made no move to stop him. Alfred liked being like this; it reminded him of a simpler time, a time where his papas were (in his eyes) the strongest people in the world, able to fix anything, able to make all the hurt go away with a kiss to the cheek and sweet words whispered in his ears.
A few minutes passed in silence before America realized there were tears running down his cheeks, and a sob threatening to escape from his throat.
The change hadn't escaped Matthew, but the Canadian didn't say anything, just kept running his hands through his brother's hair soothingly, letting Alfred initiate whatever happened next. It was up to Alfred where they went from here.
Finally, the sob escaped from Alfred's throat, and this seemed to be a signal for the waterworks to begin.
For the next half hour or so, all that could be heard in the apartment was the sound of Alfred's absolutely heartbroken sobs.
Matthew didn't do anything, just continued comforting his brother in silence.
"It hurts," Alfred finally spoke, trying to control his sobs. "It hurts so much, Mattie."
Quiet as a whisper, Matthew replied, "I know."
"Mattie," sobbed Alfred again. "How do I make it stop hurting?"
"You let it all out," replied Matthew in a knowing voice. "You cry and cry and cry until you can't cry anymore. You remember that they're at peace now."
"And what do I do after that?" asked the older male, sounding so utterly vulnerable, it broke Matthew's heart.
"You move on with your life."
Had it been anyone else that had told him that, America would have promptly given them a broken jaw.
But not Matthew.
Matthew understood.
Matthew knew what it felt like.
To his mind came an image, unbidden, of a scene so very similar to this one, having taken place more than two decades ago.
The two North America brothers, sitting on a couch; one of them was crying into the other's lap, venting out his heartbreak while the other sat there, comforting him.
And now, their roles were switched.
Alfred sat up, burying his head in the hollow at the base of his brother's neck as the other boy wrapped his arms around his waist, scooting him closer.
Losing your people to wars and natural disasters were devastating, but what had happened in Connecticut, that was a different type of devastating. The people that had died weren't hardened soldiers that knew they would most likely lose their lives for their country; they were innocent little angels that had their whole lives ahead of them.
And maybe that was the most heartbreaking thing about it.
That they had lived such short lives.
"They were so young…" whispered Alfred.
Involuntarily, Matthew's mind was taken back to that incident more than two decades ago. In his mind, the blond could see fourteen laughing young women, their eyes glazed over, the life having left them.
If they hadn't died that day, if that madman hadn't killed them, where would they be today? Would they be wives and mothers already? Would they be doing their part to better their society? This question had often wandered through Matthew's mind, and it always brought with it an incredibly powerful ache.
And it would be just as bad for Alfred.
With how loud and annoyingly cheerful as he usually was, not many people would expect how sensitive Alfred actually was; he cared for his people so much more than the others would ever know.
Matthew could easily have gone to Francis and maybe even Arthur for comfort after the Montreal Massacre, but his first reaction was that he absolutely needed to see Alfred.
Only Alfred would have understood what he was going through; only Alfred would know how much it was killing him inside.
And, when he'd heard of the incident in Connecticut, that had been his reaction once again.
He needed to see Alfred.
Only this time, he was going to be the one doing the comforting.
Because after all, isn't that what brothers are for?
SkyGem: So, what did you all think? Like it? Please review and let me know what you think! And yeah, they're kinda touchy feely in this fic, but my intention was for this to be platonic. No AmeCan. Though all you shippers can go ahead and read whatever meaning you want into this XD. Anyways, that's it for all! Ciao!