When You Die. . . . (I Want To See Your Face)

Written By: Panda

Warning: Snapped!Canada and character death.

-0-0-0-0-

Kumajiro padded into Matthew's living room, getting ready to climb into the Canadian's lap, but stopped in the doorway when he saw that the blond nation had fastened a knife into the end of his favorite hockey stick.
He turned, smiling slightly, hearing a questioning grunt from his bear.

"Kumatachi? What do you need?"

Kumajiro backed away a couple of steps.
This was not his master.
Matthew's eyes were always soft, smiling, and he hardly saw him with a knife.
Unless he was in the kitchen.
This. . . .
This person looked like Matthew, but his eyes were full of insane mirth, and his smile was something just as insane.

"Who are you?"

The smile dropped off of Matthew's face, and he slowly picked the small bear up.

"Even my Kumamaru doesn't remember me! No-one remembers me. Why?"

He narrowed his eyes at Kumajiro, slowly tightening his hold.
Kumajiro coughed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Oh, I know why! 'He's invisible.'! Well, I wonder how invisible I'll be when I murder them all!"

He laughed – it was a rough laugh, though – and cast the bear aside, onto the couch.

"It's not worth murdering you. Your face doesn't show human emotion. Or, in this case, nation emotion. Heh."

-0-0-0-0-

Canada sat quietly smiling at the end of the table, like always, listening to his loud brother rant about his plans to unite the world.
Across from him, Germany nodded slowly.
China, also, followed by Japan, Italy, and France.
Russia stood up with a couple of 'kols' and leaned close to America.

"America~, I do believe everyone is supposed to unite with me, not with each other, da."
"Wha-? Dude, dude, no! Everyone will become one with each other! Like you and China-dude, with Japan, and Germany and all!"

Canada's eyes narrowed slightly, and his smile fell from his face.

They didn't even mention me.

He frowned slightly and turned his attention back to the nations surrounding him.

"-well, Russia, dude, I don't wanna argue. I'm going to take a piss, so the Hero's out!"
"Kolkolkolkolkolkolkolkolkol. . . ."

Russia just sat back down, amethyst eyes sparking dangerously.
England sighed and stood up.
Canada stood up as well and slunk behind him.

"Well, I kind of agree with him. America, I mean. For once the git's got a good idea."

China nodded slowly again, rubbing his head and neck.

"Yes, aru, it was pretty good. But it seemed like - aiyaa, Opium, why's your back bleeding aru!"

England glanced with horror at his back, which was becoming a fountain of red.
A knife was stuck in his back, and with wide eyes, found he couldn't see the hands that had plunged it into him.

"Wh-what? Who the bloody heck did-"

Green eyes went even wider and he began to cough blood up, splattering the brown table with it.

". . .that."

Canada smiled bitterly from the doorway.

"Maybe next time I have to kill them from the front."

-0-0-0-0-

Kumajiro shied out of Matthew's way for the umpteenth time that day, ducking under the table instead.
The blond paid no attention, pausing by the counter to grab a bottle of something foul-smelling.
He heard a low cackle, and the door shut.

-0-0-0-0-

Francis paraded tiredly into his house, humming a French lullaby softly.
He flicked on the lights, noticing that a glass of red wine sat on the table.
Francis pouted slightly, silently thanking the person who'd left it there, not thinking for a moment that it might be poisoned.
He reached for the glass and downed in within a few seconds.
Suddenly, he fell against the counter, coughing and clutching his chest.

"What ever happened. . . .?"

A laugh echoed around his empty kitchen, and he frantically looked for the intruder.
It was Matthew, hiding under the table.

"Oh, Papa, you took so long in getting here! Well, at least you drank it."

Francis strained to keep breathing.

"Mathieu-? Did you. . . . did you do that?"

Matthew laughed again and nodded heartily, leaning closer toward Francis.

"Yes, that was me."
"Wh-why?"
"Oh, because just everyone notices me around here."

Francis's shocked expression turned slightly sad.

"I-I noticed you-!"

He was cut off once again by his own coughing.

"Oh, that's right. . . . You did. But I still felt like seeing your dying face."

Matthew's smile grew cruel, and he pressed a short kiss to Francis's cheek before sashaying out of the house.

"It was interesting, by the way."

-0-0-0-0-

"Kumaichi?"

Matthew opened his front door, smelling of earth, blood, and vodka.
The white bear peeked out of the living room door, only to run away again.
Matthew grinned – maniacally – and looked around.

"Oh, Kumatatsu, it's only me. I just wanted to let you know. . . . That vodka bastard had the funniest face ever. Only he still didn't see me."

Kumajiro peeked out again.

"Who are you?"

He asked, not in a moment of forgetfulness this time.

Who is this monster? My master is not one who kills.

Matthew ignored him, continuing to describe the Russian's chokes and gags.

-0-0-0-0-

Matthew smiled slightly to himself, watching Yao fix dinner while chatting with Kiku.
He clutched a length of thick rope closer to himself, already imagining the two Asian Nation's white faces, air supply cut off by said rope, and his grin turned feral.
It had been a while since Yao had started cooking, and the Canadian was getting tired of waiting.
But he decided to be 'nice' and let them finish dinner.

"Aiya, I have this weird feeling we're being watched aru."

Yao said, sitting down beside Kiku and picking his chopsticks up.
Matthew nearly laughed.
The two were lost in their heated argument when Matthew darted out of his hiding place – a closet – and lost no time in fastening the rope around their necks.
Yao yelped in surprise and turned to look behind him, followed by Kiku.
Matthew grinned and tightened the rope.

"C-Canada aru! Why are you-"
"Kanada-san, what are you doing-?!"

Matthew pulled the rope even tighter, grinning like a maniac.

"Oh, just paying you back for never, ever noticing me."
"What?!"

He smirked and leaned closer, tying the rope around their wrists.

"You know what I mean. Oh~, Kiku, what a red face you have."

He chuckled and tapped the Japanese man's cheek, which was so red he looked like one of Romano's tomatoes.
Speaking of Romano. . . .
Oh, he'd get around to killing that bastard sometime, just not now.
America came first.
Yao, who'd been thrashing wildly a few minutes before, went a little limp.
Kiku just tried to get as much air as possible.
Matthew shrugged and turned to the door.

"It's impossible, Yao, Kiku, you'll die anyway."

He took one last look at the two – Yao was slumped over the table, chest not rising, and Kiku was trying his darnedest to cut the rope.

"I said, Kiku, it's pointless. But if that's the way you want to spend the last moments of your life, well, it's not like I should stop you."

-0-0-0-0-

Matthew grinned to himself and threw the flaming torch he was holding into the patch of wild, dry grass, watching as it spread.
Oh, he wasn't hurting Alfred directly, but this was his brother, and he'd rather set fire to his land rather than to the man himself.
After this, he was going to visit his brother, who would most likely be in the Nation's hospital.

-0-0-0-0-

"Alfred."

Matthew purred low at his brother, who was writhing in pain as burns spread all over his chest.
The older nation didn't reply, just screamed loudly, and curled into a fetal position.

"Hurts!"

He yelled, voice cracking.

"Mattie, it hurts!"

Matthew nodded uninterestedly, just watching his older brother's agony.

"I know."

Alfred glanced up at him as best as he could.

"M-Mattie. . .?! Why. . . why are you saying that? You have to –augh! Y-you're supposed to tell me. . . . It's alright!"

Matthew laughed bitterly; he was sure Alfred would ask.

"I was the one who set you on fire in the first place."

No reply for a while, just Alfred's shrieking.
After a while, he quieted down, but was obviously still in pain.

"Why. . . . Why are you doing this, Mattie?"

Another bitter cackle.

"You're my beloved brother who everyone mistakes me for. I get beaten up because of you. I'm always overshadowed by the 'epic hero-ness' that is you."

Alfred's brow furrowed, and he clutched his shoulder.

"Why didn't you. . . . Ever tell me?"
"I dunno. I guess I was just too nice to tell you. But now, I'm not too nice."

The blue-eyed blond watched in pure horror as his younger twin pulled out a knife and leaned over him.
Four words floated past Matthew's lips, and then he felt cold metal plunge through his chest.

"I love you, Alfred."

-0-0-0-0-

Do I have a reason for writing this?
Yes. I have several.
1) Plot bunnies running rampant.
2) I feel. . . . In the mood for Snapped!Canada
3) Torture of characters is one of my hobbies.
4) I wanted to try writing this. . . . Heh.
And 5) Because I'm deranged. And we all know Canada is. . . . He's just such an actor.
Ooooh, Dawnie just gave me a good idea.
My thoughts about le fanfic. . . . x,D
UHM. WOW. How could I do this?!
And my favorite ND to write was America's. I dunno why, but yeah.
I just. . . . I loved writing it.
My least favorite was Iggy.
It was too 'meh'.
But you don't really care, do you?
Whatever. Leave me a pretty, pretty review.
Even flames are appreciated, telling me how cruel and deranged and stupid and how I should get a LIFE and all whatever.
Reviewers/flamers/favorite-ers get a cake! Or a piece of cake. Whichever you prefer.
Panda's out!