Chapter 7

Sunlight filtered through the shades shining on Alfred's white sheets. The blond nation was fast asleep underneath his plethora of blankets and pillows. It was nearly twelve in the afternoon, but it wasn't unusual as of late to find him in this comatose-like position.

Canada was standing at the door, his hands on his hips as he looked sadly down at his older brother. Alfred had told him about what had happened with Italy, and for the past month or so he had let the American mope.

But it had in fact, been a month, and Matthew couldn't let his big brother sit around forever. Besides, there was a meeting coming up soon enough and he wasn't going to let him look like complete crap in front of everyone.

So, out of love of course, the Canadian banged on America's door rather loudly and called. "Alfred? It's time to wake up!" There wasn't a response. Canada repeated his name multiple times with no response, so the blond went on to phase two.

Matthew opened the door to the rather messy room and flung the massive blankets from his brother and sang loudly in the southern country's ear. "Breakfast!"

Alfred blindly groped for him, but is lazy movements weren't hard to dodge. "Sleepy." The American moaned, as his hand dropped back to his side. "Please go away."

Matthew frowned. "Come on Al, it's too late to still be sleeping. It's almost lunchtime and you're still in bed. Time to get up. Come on." The Canadian nation grabbed Alfred's muscular arm and whined vexedly. "Get up eh." He kept tugging on the older nations arm, his frustration growing with each pull. "Alfred!" He yelled, dropping his older brother's arm angrily.

"What?" He whined, turning tired cerulean eyes on his younger brother. Canada huffed irritably, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared America down.

"Al," He said gently, looking down at the roused country haughtily. "You have to stop staying up so long and waking up this late! It's not good for you, eh."

Alfred sighed, ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the floor. "I know."

"Then how come you keep doing it eh? You're going to have to face Italy eventually Al. And it might be sooner than you think." Alfred frowned. Canada wasn't surprised the blond had forgotten about their meeting. He wasn't exactly on top of things lately. "We have a meeting coming up next week, everyone is going to be there."

America just huffed and shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbed his bleary eyes. "I'm not going."

"You missed the last one Al. You can't just keep missing meetings because of your personal life eh." He said patiently, his exasperation for his brother fading into pity. America had his heart broken a few weeks ago and he still wasn't completely sure how or why. The Canadian nation had considered calling Italy himself, but it wasn't any of his business.

Besides that, the little country hadn't looked particularly peachy at the last meeting either. Italy had seemed so tired, he had bags under his eyes, his hair had been dull and he spent most of the meeting staring blankly out into space. He looked like he was feeling guilty, which made Canada feel a little relieved (if only slightly). He usually at least tried to look like he was paying attention, and most of the time he had Germany to correct him if he wasn't.

But Germany hadn't made an appearance either. Instead Gilbert had showed up in his place. The meeting had been a little solemn without America; the awkward tension in the room didn't go away as the hours dragged on. Everything felt forced and it seemed everyone was well aware of the awkward situation between the three countries. It did nothing to defuse the situation.

Canada half expected Romano to take Italy's place this week. They were after all the same country. Romano was just, how could he say this delicately? Not the most social of countries. The first time they had met, the Italian nation had accused him of not being a real country. Of course, the blond had assured him he was a perfectly legit nation, but Romano had gone unconvinced until America had unwittingly addressed him during the meeting.

To say the least, he wasn't fond of Romano. Not many were, and it surprised Canada to no end how Spain had put up with the little country for so long. And as far as he knew they were still friendly; it was surreal considering Spain was also friends with nations like France and Prussia.

He wasn't Italy, but if it was up to him he would send the little nation home, wrap him in a blanket, give him some soup and put him to bed. The Italian country looked like he needed it from what the Canadian had seen; Alfred was no better. But he had been in bed nearly all month, barely spoken to him and hadn't done much work. America was getting his paper work done, but it was almost as if he was hiding from the world.

As a good friend and his brother, Canada couldn't let him go out like that. He needed to get his brother back up and running as soon as possible. It was never good to show weakness in front of the other countries. Usually the way a country was feeling was based off either how the country was feeling or the state of their economy. Italy could probably get away with looking tired once or twice, but America was one of the bigger countries. His weakness could be used to a much greater advantage than when it was just cute, little, Italy.

The Canadian nation understood this fairly well for a country that wasn't very significant. He wasn't acknowledged by anyone very often. He doubted anyone would notice if he was feeling under the weather. His knowledge of the situation was mainly because he was so closely affiliated with countries like America and England.

"If you don't get up, all the pancakes will be gone!" he sang, going for a softer angle on his now touchy brother. He had yet to see him cry, but the American had developed a habit of disappearing whenever he got upset. He wasn't always sure where Alfred ended up, and it scared him sometimes how long he went missing for. Canada pushed his older brother off his bed, causing the blue-eyed nation to cry out in shock.

Canada giggled as his older brother popped his head from over the side of the bed. He looked irritated at the Canadian's smirk, but he sighed, got up, and stretched whining softly. "Tired."

"But now you can have some pancakes!" He cheered, grabbing his older brother's forearm and leading him downstairs. Finally he was getting somewhere with the older nation. "And there's coffee too! But pancakes are always the best in my opinion eh."

Canada led America downstairs and dished his brother up with a couple of pancakes and poured him a large amount of maple syrup. Alfred groaned tiredly as the Canadian grabbed him a mug of coffee and put it down in front of him. "C'mon Alfred, you've barely said five words this morning!" The violet-eyed nation prod, hoping to get the American nation to start speaking, but Alfred seemed impervious to his plans.

The American just shrugged as he tucked into his food. Canada frowned; this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

...

Matthew was furious; all day he had tried again and again to get Alfred off his feet and the American simply didn't respond to him. This was getting ridiculous. America was driving him insane, even Canada who considered himself very patient was getting annoyed with him. He needed to fix this, he just didn't know how.

It had been a day since Canada had managed to get his brother out of bed before 2:00AM, and he still had barely said more than a few sentences to Canada. Call him nosey but he was starting to wonder if he really should call Italy and ask him what was going on. But it was a little personal and Canada didn't want to cross any borders.

Until later that night, that was.

The Canadian nation was pacing Alfred's kitchen worriedly. He wasn't exactly sure why it was America had left. He had one of his fits once again and the violet-eyed nation had barely seen him all day. He had called Alfred's cell, went out looking for him for two hours, and tried calling everyone-

Then Matthew realized there was one last person he could call; Italy. Canada bit his nails stressfully as he considered. By the time the clock hit 2:30 Matthew was reaching for the phone when he heard the door open with a bang. The Canadian nation gasped as Alfred came stumbled in, drunk, bruised and bloody.

"Alfred!" The younger nation gasped, running over to his older brother, half concerned, half pissed. He put a hand on his brother's forehead, but the older nation pushed him away.

"I'm alright. I just need some sleep…"

"You're bleeding and you can hardly walk." Canada hissed, trying to fight the urge to hit America himself. Honestly he knew better than this. But he took a deep breath and supported his brother and led him to the bathroom. As Canada worked to get his brother cleaned and patched up, he came to a very important, very exhausting decision.

He had to call Italy.

...

Italy jumped slightly as he heard the phone blared into the silence with an obnoxious ring. The Italian nation sighed exhaustedly staring at the phone, debating with whether he should answer, or just let Romano get it instead.

But as the phone droned on, Italy decided to just answer and end its insistent ringing. He snatched up the phone and took a deep breath, preparing himself to answer the phone with as much enthusiasm as he could inject. "Ciao!" He answered, trying not to make his cheerful tone sound too forced.

"Is his Italy?" The nation froze, that voice was eerily familiar.

"A-America?" He asked shakily, his heart squeezing guiltily in his chest.

"Oh no! This is Canada."

Italy had to think about that a second, he certainly sounded like America. Where was Canada? Then it hit him like a train and he squeaked guiltily. "Oh! Ciao Canada! I didn't recognize you I'm so sorry!"

The Canadian nation sighed, sounding a little resigned. "Oh, it's alright don't worry aboot it eh."

Italy sat in confused silence for a few more seconds before he asked hesitantly. "Ve, why are you calling, Canada?"

"Um, actually I wanted to talk to you aboot America." His tentative voice answered, its content causing Italy to flinch. His stomach clenching uncomfortably.

Italy saw this coming, but it didn't make the idea of talking about it any better. "Oh, well I expected as much. " He choked, trying to keep his voice under control. "Why-why isn't he talking to me himself?"

"Well uh, it might be because he doesn't know I'm calling you." That peaked Italy's interest.

"W-what?" He stammered, this was rather unlike the quiet Canadian.

"Well," Matthew sighed, and Italy sat down on the couch preparing himself for his reaction. "Um, it goes like this. Alfred has been, um, a little bit… depressed, lately and well, I'm not exactly sure why. I thought maybe you could explain what's going on? Please?"

Italy felt a wave of pain press heavily on his chest. "And… The person you call about Alfred being depressed, is me?" He murmured, a wave of sadness hitting him heavily.

There was silence as the Canadian registered Italy's words. "Oh not at all Italy! I-"

"Canada, it's alright." He interrupted, hoping he wasn't sounding too rude. "You're worried about America, it's understandable. My fratello is the same." He paused for a moment before he added. "I-I mean I suppose I could, explain I mean, if it'll help you help Alfred."

"Well, not if you're uncomfortable Italy..." The blonde said softly, but Italy could detect the eagerness in the Canadian's voice.

"I think I just need to get this out, I don't think my fratello would appreciate me discussing my love life with him." He admitted, a nervous ache settling in his stomach. "Ve, I guess I'll start at the beginning."

So he began to explain. And once he started, he found it almost impossible to stop. Italy decided to start with his huge crush on the blond American. How he had just wanted to become friends with the American and see if it was possible for the American nation to feel the same. But then he told Canada about the overheard conversation, and for the first time the violet-eyed Canadian interrupted him.

"What? Oh my gosh I'm so sorry eh!" Matthew squeaked, it was clear the blond didn't know anything about it.

"Ve, yeah, don't worry about it too much." He assured, just wanting to finish and have it be done with.

"But that doesn't make any sense! America is into you, I know it!" He insisted.

"It's just what happened…" Italy replied sadly, trying not to blush. "Anyway, so after that I just tried my hardest to get over him, and for a little while there I thought I could…" He paused a moment, remembering the painful weeks he spent telling himself over and over again the American would never feel the same about him, it made him shudder.

"Italy?" Canada's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Italy snapped back into concentration, his mind still foggy.

"Hm? Oh, ve… Sorry." Italy sighed, continuing despondently. "I guess I started to get over him towards the end. When I painted that picture for him, I spilled all the emotions I was feeling into it and I felt… I felt like everything would be alright even if he didn't like me the way that I liked him." It sounded more depressing out loud then Italy had intended. He didn't really want a pity-party right now.

"See, that's where I'm confused. You found out America really does like you. What was the problem?"

"I-I know this is going to sound really weird and maybe a bit silly, but I never really got over Germany, you know? I turned myself off to the idea of being with America, and then Germany kissed me and…" Italy struggled for words, hoping he didn't sound too strange. "I don't know. I wasn't really over America then either, it was only a couple weeks. I just couldn't do anything with Germany with my mind on someone else. I didn't want him to be my rebound, I guess. I was confused and needed time to think, so I told him I needed time and left.

"I guess you know the rest, Alfred kissed me in the bathroom and I was more confused then ever. He told me he loved me when I had just been spending all this time telling myself he wasn't even gay; I left. I guess I'm just cowardly like that, but he was drunk and I didn't know what to do."

"I think I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel any better." Canada said kindly, making Italy smile slightly. "It sounds exhausting."

"It was. Well, anyway, I got to the place we were suppose to be meeting in and Germany and America were already fighting. I suppose it's not surprising but it was kind of unsettling. I was a little more than sick of them being at each others throats. Then I tried to calmly explain myself and ask for some time and space, and they started screaming at each other again over whose fault this whole thing was.

"Ve, I don't really know what happened, but I got super angry and started yelling and cursing, and I stormed off." Italy closed his eyes a moment, remembering his moment of weakness and what followed afterward. "I went to this park, and America followed me. So, I just told him not to call me and that I needed space." Italy paused a moment before saying guiltily. "I know that's so mean, but they were suffocating me and I was just really mad. It has been hard and I feel really bad. How is America?" He asked tentatively. A part of him didn't want to know, fearing the blond hated him and had spent the last month angry and spiting him.

Canada exhaled and said sadly. "He hasn't been good. But thanks for talking to me. America was pretty insistent about keeping quiet."

Italy blinked back tears. "O-oh. Well, thanks for listening to me Canada. Are you going to be at the next meeting?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, I don't usually see you there is all. Will you come over and talk to me?"

Canada sighed and said a little sadly. "Yeah sure. Just remember I'll be looking for you, ok?"

"Of course, um, America is going to be there, right?" He asked, half hoping he would show up, the other half hoping America would just avoid him for the time being.

"Yes. I'm going to make him go whether he wants to or not. I don't like making him but…"

"I understand. Well, ciao Canada." Italy murmured sadly, a huge weight having been lifted from his shoulders

"Goodbye Italy! See you soon!"

...

"America!" Canada called, walking up to his older brothers door and knocking loudly. "C'mon Al, we're going to that world meeting in a few minutes. Are you ready?"

There was no response. Canada frowned and opened the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw America, asleep and completely unresponsive. The Canadian felt his patients break as he shoved his older brother off the bed, causing the blond to wake up with a start. "What the hell-!"

"This is ridiculous! You're a grown-ass man America get up, and lets go!" He yelled, hoping this would somehow shock his brother back to normal.

America looked up at his brother with a mix of confusion and hurt, but did as he was told without comment, rubbing one of his eyes absently. The sight tugged at Canada's heart making him start to feel guilty for having yelled. "Hey, I'm sorry Alfred. But you need to go to this meeting, ok? Are you prepared and everything?"

"I've got a few things prepared." He murmured. Canada frowned, guilt making him spill his guts.

"I called Italy the other day." America gave him a panicked stare. "You should talk to him. I think he's confused-"

Canada moved back as America grasped him around the shoulders and asked breathlessly. "D-did he ask about me?"

Canada just nodded. "He wanted to know how you were and if you were coming today." He gave America a little smile. "I think he's just a little confused. You should talk to him."

America shook his head sadly. "He's sick of me." He muttered despairingly.

"I don't think that's true." Canada said encouragingly, patting one of America's hands. "I really think you should say something. I'm going to go say hi anyways."

"H-huh?"

"Italy asked to talk to me, will you come with me? It might be easier if you're there." America's grip on Canada loosened and he took a few steps back.

Finally he just nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure thing bro. I think it's the least I can do for you right now."

Canada nodded and held back a triumphant squeal. "C'mon, now we really do have to go in a few minutes."