September 2.
The worst birthday ever.
Peter sighs as he watches the empty seats that surround him. He sits on the table, sadly poking the untouched birthday cake with a fork.
He had expected it. That since none of the other nations acknowledges him as a real country he wouldn't get many visitors. However he had hoped that at least Latvia would come to his party. But he timid boy had only sent him a text.
Happy Birthday, Sealand.
I'm sorry ;o;
I wanted to visit you but Russia is in a very bad mood today and I can't leave my room.
I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! ( ; д ;` )
He had texted him back. Saying it was all right. That the party was so crowded and loud he wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway. He doesn't want him to worry.
Papa Sweden had called him. But being Sweden, he didn't have much to say to him besides "H'py b'rth'y s'n" and then a few grunts now and then as Peter proceeded to talk about the amazing party he was going to have for about ten minutes.
"Amazingly boring. That's what it is" he mumbles and climbs down before proceeding to lay flat on the floor.
Then finally, there's a soft knock on his door. He perks up. Perhaps Latvia came to see him after all. Or perhaps everyone is there. Ready to yell "Surprise!". But when he opens the door the bright smile on his face slowly fades. That jerk England. Being scolded for acting like a nation is the last thing he needs right now. "What do you want?" he asks with a glare.
Arthur reaches his hand out and for a brief moment Peter fears his brother is going to smack him. But in stead he receives a soft pat on the head.
"Happy Birthday, Sealand"
Peter looks up at him in disbelief.
"You remembered?"
"Of course I remembered! And I even made scones for you so---- hey! Are you crying?"
He blinks as he realizes his eyes are running. It's not like he's crying because he's lonely or because he's happy to know that his brother cares. It has to be the thought of eating those damn scones that's making him cry. "E-England" he sobs and hugs the older nation's waist, burying his face in his shirt to hide the tears "n-obody came to my p-party!"
He lets go as Arthur kneels down next to him. Then he's pulled into a tight embrace.
"It's ok, Peter. I'm here."
