Title: That Empty Feeling
Authors: krissykunn
Pairing: AmericaxCanada
Rating: M
Warnings: Snapped!Canada, slash, blood, gore, yaoi
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I, Kristen, do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers. Hetalia belongs to Himayura-sama, not me. Or Nani.
Summary: Canada's tired of being ignored and forgotten, especially by his brother. What's worse is that they sleep in the same bed. M for blood/gore/Snapped!Canada. Canada's POV Country names used. YAOI
A/N: I wrote this back in the… second semester of the eighth grade. Probably somewhere around October November, so that means I wrote this about eight months ago. ]This was back when I used their country names instead of human names. Yes, this is a solo fic. I no longer use my KrissyKunn account, as of now, except for Junjou Romantica fanfics. If I… ever get back to them… /emo corner I decided to type this up while staring at my messages. Nani is in Korea right now – she just left not too long ago – so I'm all alone to edit the FFCA chapters, as usual… So, now that my long, rambling author's note is over… Enjoy! And by the way, I will admit that I had to change the original ending I had because I didn't enjoy it enough once I reread. So… The one that's in this one sounds like it cuts short too, but it's more… obvious who they are. Argh, okay, I'll shut up now.
I watched the rain fall from the sky, my eyes having to peak beneath my bangs. The rain drops could be heard inside of the house, the sound of them repeatedly pattering against the roof and the only sound in hearing distance. I was waiting in the comforts of my home away from the downpour.
I was waiting for him.
He never noticed me when I was at the board meetings for the G8. Or at least it was the G7 now that that damned England was gone. I was never noticed by anyone. That British ass only got in the way with me and him. The only time he ever noticed me was during sex.
But it wasn't like that until after I had gone and murdered England.
He doesn't know it was me.
The rain caught me in my thoughts and I had to squint through my glasses to see the dark and distance figure coming this way. I made no move to get away when it waved at me.
America was back.
It was normal for him to wave at me. That was also one of the only other times he would notice that I was Canada and that I did indeed sleep in his bed.
I wouldn't allow him to make excuses that he was losing his memory or that he needed a new prescription.
When I saw him smiling at me, my heart skipped a beat, but my mind thought different.
Ridiculous.
"I've returned with groceries!" he called, soaking wet from head to toe. America approached the door and I managed a forced smile when he stepped inside.
"You smell like a wet dog," I commented, like I usually did when he came home like this. When he turned around to take off his shoes, I felt the inside pocket of my jacket to makes sure it was there. "Do you need any help?" I offered.
And just like that, it was as if I wasn't there anymore.
America set the groceries down by the fridge, stretching his tired bones and plopping down on the couch with his drenched clothes sticking to his body. But, surprisingly, his cowlick stood as if nothing had touched it. I touched my long curl and looked at the floor, puddles from America's entrance obvious on the tile.
I stayed by the door, watching him laugh every now and then at the comic book he was reading. But…
His laugh had never been the same since his best friend had been killed.
By me.
I didn't bother to insist that he should take a warm bath before he caught a cold. If he gets sick, that's his problem for going out for Christmas dinner supplies last minute. The thing is…
I bet Russia $50 that America wouldn't make it to the party tonight.
He was the only one who had listened when I mentioned death and anger. I told him that it had been over six years since America had had a decent, human (as human as countries can get) with me or had sex with me that was for love, not need. Russia immediately offered me some of his help, but I turned it down and explained that I was going to solve this problem myself.
And sure as hell was I going to.
I looked up when America suddenly got up off the couch and headed upstairs. I knew that look.
I looked at the floor once more and then silently followed him up the stairs. I spotted him in the bedroom, removing his shirt. When he saw me, he gave me that look. That look that said Come here so I can fuck you into the mattress.
I followed obediently. These were the only moments I could ever have physical contact with him.
It was going to be my last too.
He pulled my shirt off and pushed me onto my back on the mattress. America roughly pushed his mouth against mine and I whimpered, just to please his fix for sex. When I felt his tongue force my mouth open, my hand felt around for my jacket. I felt the object's handle inside of the pocket, my fingers curling around the large hold. I gave a moan and pulled my hand up and downwards, his actions stopping instantly as his body tensed.
America rolled off of me and onto his back once I pulled the knife out of his bare back. He screamed, spazzing in pain. I figured he felt the horrid feeling that I felt whenever he ignored me. It was like you were on fire. A stab to the back.
Right now, I felt that empty feeling.
"Canada! What are y—" His scream was cut off by me when I threw the knife forward and stabbed him in the abdomen. I straddled his waist, pulling the bloody knife out once again. Blood pooled around us, staining the bed sheets.
I'd have to buy new ones later.
There were spots of blood that had splattered the white walls, obvious even in the semi-dark room that we were in. I threw another stab to his stomach. "For six damn years!" I snapped, over his loud shouting. "For six damn years you screw me out of just a normal urge for sex! I wanted you to have sex with me, brother or not, because you loved me! I wanted you to kiss me and touch me… like you meant it!" I raised the knife in the air and above my head with both hands gripping the handle, blood trailing down from the tip to my hands to my arms. I let out a choked sound and felt the imaginary tears roll down my face. "If you don't want that… then fine! Go to hell!"
America's struggling stopped when my knife cut into his throat and shut off his airways and connection with the rest of his body. His blue eyes, once energetic and filled with endless life, looked at me with the dullness that I had felt for six years. The nothingness. Lifeless.
I wiped my forehead with my bloody hand, smearing his blood across my face and dripping down to trail down my chin. I gave a small, dry laugh, looking at the wonderful mess I had made. I leaned forward and kissed America's cheek. That's when I noticed that, in the middle of my fury, he had reached out to grip my waist. I pulled his dead hand away in mild disgust, which was overpowered by the happiness I felt.
It was dull, but it was happiness.
I climbed off the bed, walking over to pull my shirt and jacket back on. "I'm off to the party, America!" I called out to the dead body laying on my bed.
I loomed over the bottle of maple syrup on the table in the bright conference room that had been transformed into a simple Christmas party. A tree, lights, presents, and ribbons. It was…
Happy.
It was disgusting.
I felt a presence behind me and I turned around. I had to look up to meet the violet eyes of Russia, my one and only… 'friend'. "Oh, hello there," I greeted, smiling.
It didn't feel right.
"You look happy," he noted, smiling back. But his was extremely creepy, as always.
I nodded, glad to have someone actually talking to me. "I am indeed happy. Thank you for noticing."
His eyes flickered to his right and I looked at Japan, who didn't seem to notice my presence. Despite him being so polite, I already knew he had no idea who I was.
Just like the rest of them.
Russia looked back at me and his tone seemed to drop a few octaves. "So it's the G6 party now, huh?"
I looked at him, my eyes widened a bit. "Eh? What do you mean?"
He took one of his large hands and his thumb brushed against my cheek. He showed me his thumb and I blushed scarlet. I thought I had gotten rid of all of the evidence! "I guess I owe you fifty American dollars, da?" Russia reached for his wallet.
"Ah, Russia, you don't have to…"
"A bet is a bet, and you won, so I will get you your money, Kanada."
I hesitated, but didn't say anything. I looked around at the room and I saw Italy point to Russia, probably whispering something to Germany about how he was talking to himself again. That was false. He's talking to me. Why can't any of you notice me? I turned around when someone tapped my shoulders and instantly backed away violently.
"W-Wait, y-you're…!"
"Stupid Canada," the emerald-eyed country spat. "Didn't I teach ya that countries can't die?"
The other, who was wearing a red scarf around his neck, laughed.
That laugh…
"I-I killed you! I killed you both!" I shouted, causing the other countries to look my way. "Why are you still here? Countries can die! Th-There's proof!'
"On the internet?" The one with the thick British accent laughed, dryly. "The internet lies, poppit."
I was grabbed by the throat by England and the last thing I saw was the sadistic smile of America.
