"Well that was a wonderful show, England. Thank you so much for inviting me to see it with you?" Canada thanked Arthur as they walked up the steps to the Brit's Tudor style cottage. As the pair opened the door their noses were filled with an array of various different delicious smells.

"France? America? Where is that smell coming fro-"England started before being cut off by a overly-enthusiastic Frenchmen.

"Oh, Britain! I didn't know if you were going to be eating out after the ballet or coming home and preparing some of your *cough*disgusting*cough* - oh my, I mean your uh, delectable food for us, but I took the opportunity to thank you for inviting us to your, umm, cozy home by taking the load of making supper off your toned and broad shoulders and making some mouthwatering French cuisine for you, mon ami!" France answered him excitedly while guiding him towards the dining room where numerous plates were laid out in an elaborate pattern. Vanilla scented candles were lit and pure white table clothes were starched. It was a dinner fit for a King.

"I made sure to hold the escargot, knowing it made you English speakers a bit skittish." Francis smiled a dazzling white smile at the two other nations who were staring wide-eyed at the many different plated of appetizing foreign meals before them. England looked at each of the platters, wiping drool off of the corner of his mouth. Crème brûlée, bûche de Noël, crepes, the options were endless. There must have been fifty plates he had never seen before in his life, much less be able to name.

"Now," France started again, "Would you like to see a menu and learn about the dishes individuality, or just dig right in?" He grinned, knowing the answer already.

"Oh well, sorry, and not to be rude or disrespectful or anything France, you know I love French food as much as the next guy, but…you see England and I already ate, and we are quite stuffed." Canada murmured, slightly annoyed at not being able to discuss the ballet further with Arthur since the interruption.

France chuckled again, "Oh, silly little boy. I know England very well to know he's always hungry for Frenchmen, oh, I mean French food. Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh. And anyways, this meal wasn't meant for you at all, only my jolly old friend Artie. Not that you look your age at all Britain, have you been working out?"

Canada started to speak again, now more than just a little ticked off. "But, England, I thought we were going to talk more about the show, eh?" Arthur, now a zombified servant of the scrumptious smells didn't hear the Canadian speak at all, he was too busy sitting down at the table and digging in to the nearest dish that looked the most like pudding.

"Oh, I see how it is now…" Canada whispered, dark blue eyes watering, "I guess I'll just…go" Matthew took off toward the grand staircase overcome with so much grief from being ignored and feeling betrayed by the English and French men in the dining room.

"Bye Felicia, oh-hoh-hoh-hoh" Francis' cackle echoed through the large house as the Canadian flew up the stair hands covering his face, which was now producing a steady stream of salty tears.

When forgotten nation reached the upstairs' hallway, he bumped into a large object. The impact caused the light country to fall backwards. This just was not Canada's day, well, no day is really Canada's day, but this one is considerably worse than others.

"Oh, sorry Mattie…" Matthew looked up to see his brother, who must have been the large object he had catapulted into. Canada looked relieved to see a friendly face, although his tears were still flowing freely, but America didn't seem to notice them, his mind was preoccupied with another matter.

"So" *eye-twitch* "How was the" *eye-twitch, eye-twitch* "ballet" *eye-twitch*. Alfred struggled to choke out the sentence; his usually cheery-self seemed uncharacteristically irked.

"It was great, but are you, well, feeling okay Alfie?" Canada asked with genuine sympathy.

"Well, you see, "bro", if that's even what you are to me anymore, it's kinda hard to act like everything is Candyland when your brother is an attention hog, who doesn't care who he steps on to get time with England."

"Is that what you think happened earliar?" Oh no, the tears were starting again." I never meant for you to feel that way America, I'm sure if it had been up to me or England you both would have come along too, but there just weren't enough tickets…"

"You never thought to stay home with Francis and me, have fun together as a family." America was yelling louder and louder.

"We didn't mean to-" Canada was getting squeakier and squeakier.

"Just shut up Matt! It's not like anyone wants to hear a weak comeback from a nobody! Arthur probably wanted to spend time with you cause he felt pity, pity for the only nation worth nothing. Sealand should have more power than you!"

Canada couldn't take it anymore. All of the yelling was just too much for him. Was this really what everyone thought about him a worthless country with nothing meaningful to say or contribute? Was he no better than Sealand? The insults of both his brother and France kept dinging and darting around his head like a pinball. He stumbled into the guest room that he was assigned to upon his arrival and tried to find the soft comforting bed that would soothe him. Whatever game America and France were playing, he didn't want to play. If England was so gullible to spend time with the person who does the most for him then why did Canada need his attention anyways? Well, Matthew himself could answer you that. England had this way of making anyone he talks to feel special, wanted, loved. He'd be well qualified to be a therapist. When Canada spent time with him, he quickly forgot all those years of bad-cooking and imprisonment Britain had put his and America's people through. Canada could only see a man capable of generosity and consolation, never of greed or cruelty.

Canada was really bad at convincing himself to do the right thing.

Right there and then, Canada decided that England was his friend. England took him to that ballet. England would spend time with him. And the Northern Country new just how to do it. He swung his legs over the side of the queen size bed and slipped off his glasses. Standing up, he dropped his precious Quebec on the sanded hard-wood floor. Saying a silent prayer he lifted up a polished boot whispered "I'm so sorry" and brought the shoe down on the province.

Hello guys! Thank you so much for everyone who followed this story, it means a lot to me and I'm glad you liked it! I'm so sorry to any Canada fans who just saw the poor guy get bullied then become murderous…I promise I'll think of a happy ending. Anyways, please reply! Byeeeee ^J^(I'm obsessed with this Russia face… ^J^