Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 4

Canada was in a haze. He didn't know where he was, but he would occasionally see and hear bits and pieces. And the things he would see or hear made him scream in horror.

He saw America's burning body. He saw France being slammed against the wall. He saw Ireland being hit by a lightning bolt. And he was horrified when he realised that he was seeing it from the perspective of the person doing these things.

Was… Was he responsible?

And even before that, he saw different flashes. Kumajiro running away from him. A bloody lump on the floor, white tufts of fur scattered around the room. Cuba, mistaking him for America. Cuba, his face bloody and pleading for forgiveness. He vaguely remembered that Cuba wouldn't be attending America's birthday party.

Memories flashed through his mind, and he could feel his eyes brimming with tears. Memories where he was forgotten, but he noticed something. Portugal was in a lot of those memories, comforting him when he felt unhappy.

And then came pain. He felt as though he was being tugged in all directions, and he screamed in pain. But there was another roar of pain that echoed around him.

"Stop! It hurts!"

Those words were spoken with his voice, but he wasn't the one that said it. He started to see more and hear more. And he'd seen enough movies to know that he was in the middle of an exorcism.

Pain kept assaulting his being as his image of what was happening became clearer. The two main targets of the image were England and Portugal. He felt like a little boy again, afraid of getting into trouble. He knew that England would be mad at him for what happened to America. England's punishments flitted through his mind, and tears sprung to his eyes. He didn't want to go through any of them. He was too scared. It wasn't his fault! He didn't mean to do that!

He saw the other nations too. For once, they were looking at him. They were angry and afraid of him. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be seen if it meant being hated.

As much as he could, he kept looking towards Portugal. For some reason, Portugal made him feel safe. He felt as though Portugal would protect him.

And then things went wrong.

He saw the look of horror as Portugal looked down at his feet. Again, he'd seen enough movies to know that breaking a circle like this was a bad idea.

Canada wanted to cry when he saw Portugal flying backwards. He screamed when he realised that his body was getting closer to Portugal. His own hand reached out to grab Portugal by the throat and lifted him up. He tried to stop it, but like everything else, he was nothing more than an observer.

"I told you, I wouldn't kill you," the words spilled from his mouth. "But I would hurt you if you interfere."

Portugal screamed in pain, and Canada could feel a surge of energy rushing through his hand. He noticed the box that Portugal was holding fell to the ground. His chest tightened when he saw the tears in Portugal's eyes before he averted his gaze.

"All for nothing," the creature inside him hissed. "But if it's any consolation, your call made him feel good, up until you mentioned his brother's birthday. Even the only person that remembered him brought up his brother."

"That's not true," Portugal spat. "Matteo, I only asked you about it because I wanted to see you."

Canada's breath hitched, or it would have. He couldn't understand what Portugal was saying.

"Matteo, I've been looking for any excuse to see you," Portugal continued. "To spend time with you. And I wanted to give you this." He held up a small packet. "Matteo, this is your birthday gift. France helped me with it."

Canada's skull felt as though it was about to explode. That familiar voice was roaring around him, but Canada needed to know why Portugal would do something like that. And why he felt longing and nostalgia whenever he saw Portugal.

"Why?" he questioned. Why did Portugal want to give him a gift?

"Why did I want to get you a gift?" Portugal asked. "Why do I want to see you? Why do I want to spend time with you? The answer is simple, once you think about it. Matteo, I'm in love with you."

The creature inside him screamed in pain, and Canada didn't even care about the painful sound. He was trying to make sense of it. Portugal… was in love with him?

He thought back to everything. He remembered back when he first met Portugal. Despite the fact that Portugal had been there to visit England, he always made sure that Canada wouldn't feel too lonely. How, after the First World War when Canada learned that everything he did, England got the credit for, Portugal had been there, offering a shoulder to cry on. How Portugal would always notice when someone forgot about Canada. How Portugal always bought him a treat after someone mistook him for America, with the worst possible outcome. How Portugal would always smile brightly at him. How Portugal had gone through the trouble of getting his phone number, and working out when Canada's birthday would be.

He ignored the pained screams around him. He wanted to go back. He wanted to ask Portugal more about it.

…

England continued the chant, and Portugal was sure that his hands were completely covered in blisters, but he needed to persevere. Elydoar tried to reach out towards him again, but his eyes kept flickering between black and violet. He hoped it meant that Canada would be free soon.

There was another loud scream, and a black cloud emerged from Canada's body. Portugal watched as the cloud entered the box, but before it was completely inside, a part of the cloud became a hand and gripped Portugal's wrist.

Portugal screamed in pain as it felt as though the grip was burning him.

"Don't drop the box!" Norway shouted.

Portugal nodded his head. A few more seconds passed and the grip released him, the cloud completely disappearing inside the box. The box slammed shut.

Portugal sank to his knees, his energy feeling drained. England rushed over towards him and gently grabbed the box.

"Thank you for your help," England said. "I'll go outside now and destroy this." He glanced to the side. "You may want to tend to Matthew."

Portugal's gaze snapped to attention, and he saw the figure slumped on the ground in front of him. Canada was pale, but his breathing was even. Portugal crawled over towards Canada and gently turned him onto his back. He lifted Canada's head and lay it on his lap.

Portugal played with Canada's hair as he watched the other nations around them. Some of them headed towards the exit, while others remained staring at Canada. Portugal glared at them, daring them to say anything. His attention snapped to Germany when the taller male cleared his throat.

"We need to figure out what to do with Canada," Germany said.

"You are doing nothing with him," Portugal snarled.

"Look, I know you… love him." He would have laughed about Germany's blush under different circumstances. "But the fact remains that he killed three nations, and injured many others."

"It wasn't him! It was the thing inside him! The thing that England went to destroy!"

"I agree with my brother," Spain interrupted, stepping between Portugal and Germany. "And from my understanding, England is more to blame for this than Canada. If he didn't forget about him, then none of this would have happened in the first place."

"Spain has a point," Romano said. "But it was still pathetic to get upset over someone forgetting your birthday."

"Try virtually everyone that's supposed to care about you," Portugal spat. "And this wasn't the first time. Ever since he was a colony, people were always forgetting him. And the demon took advantage of that."

"Well… All things considered, I don't think we should leave Canada alone," Germany said. "So, Portugal, would you mind being his guardian for the time being?"

Portugal perked up, before eagerly nodding his head. It was an excuse to spend a lot of time with Canada. Preferably at his house. He didn't know if something happened in Canada's house.

His attention was drawn to the nation on his lap when he started to stir. Those beautiful violet eyes blinked open, and Portugal was sure that his heart soared.

"Where… where am I?" Canada muttered. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about that now," Portugal said. "How are you feeling?"

Canada didn't immediately answer.

"My head hurts," he said at last. "And…" He gasped, sitting upright. He looked around, and Portugal was worried that he remembered what happened. "Where's Al? And Papa? And Ireland?"

Portugal sighed, wrapping his arms around him.

"What can you remember, Matteo?" he asked.

Canada wrapped his arms around himself, tears brimming in those gorgeous eyes.

"I… I killed them…" Canada said. "And C-Cuba and K-K-Kumajiro…"

Portugal saw Spain tense out of the corner of his eye, but his focus was completely on the scared and horrified Canadian.

"No, Matteo," Portugal said. "It wasn't you. It was a demon taking control of you. You are not to blame."

Canada turned towards him and buried his face in his chest. Portugal started to stroke his curls when he felt Canada start to cry into his chest. He looked up at the others, seeing that most of them had turned away. Germany was also still staring at the two of them, but his expression had softened. Portugal wondered if he was thinking of the things he had done in the past under the direction of a racist mass murderer, and if he was sympathetic towards Canada for that reason.

They remained like that for a while until England arrived. He was covered in soot, but there was a satisfied look on his face.

"Elydoar is destroyed," England announced. "He won't be bothering any of us again."

Portugal nodded. He looked down when he felt Canada's grip tighten, and frowned when he realised that he was trembling. It took him a while to understand that he was afraid, and he hugged him tighter. England cleared his throat.

"Matthew, I wish to apologise," England said. "It's my understanding that it was due to my negligence that this happened to you. And you've been through something that no one should ever have to endure. If I'd destroyed that box before you could find it…"

Portugal cleared his throat, glaring at England. The other flinched.

"I… I also apologise for forgetting about you," England said. "All those times in the past, and… Your birthday."

That reminded Portugal of the gift. He retrieved it and gently pushed Canada away from him.

"I wanted to see you," Portugal said. "That's why I asked you if you would be at America's party. This is for you, Matteo."

Canada took the package before slowly opening it. He gasped when he saw the locket, shaped like a maple leaf.

"I had it custom made for you," Portugal explained. "I hope you like it."

Canada's cheeks turned red, and Portugal wondered what else he remembered of what happened. Canada smiled, before he put it on. Portugal smiled when he saw the locket resting against his chest.

"It's beautiful," he said. "Thank you."

Portugal smiled when Canada hugged him again. Germany cleared his throat, and both nations looked up at him.

"Canada, I know this is… a bit uncomfortable," Germany said, "but I need you to stay with Portugal for the time being. After everything that happened… You can understand why we wouldn't feel comfortable with you being alone."

Canada flinched, lowering his head.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "I caused a lot of trouble for everyone."

"Again, it's not your fault," Portugal said. "So, do you want me to stay with you in your country, or do you want to come with me?"

"I… I need to take care of Kumajiro," Canada said. "And… I think… I'll need some support for that."

"Of course." Portugal turned to look at the other nations. "If there's nothing else, then I think we should get going now."

"And we'll handle things here," Germany said, looking around.

Portugal helped Canada to his feet, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"Before we go to your place, I believe I still owe you a cup of coffee," Portugal said.

…

Canada played with the locket around his throat as he stared out to the ocean. Portugal truly was a beautiful place. He wondered if he could convince Portugal to go down to the beach. Summer was already rolling into autumn, and he wanted to enjoy the beach one more time before the cold season.

Things had not been easy since that fateful night three months ago. It turned out that the demon had had a negative effect on the country of Canada as well, where his people suffered from an epidemic. Their fingertips and lips became black, and they vomited a black sludge. Other symptoms included fever, seizures and hallucinations. The victims would die within three days, roughly the amount of time that Canada had been possessed. He'd gotten sick the moment he and Portugal arrived at the airport, and Canada remained in bed for a month until the epidemic was over.

The same epidemic had struck Cuba, America, France and Ireland. This was only the start of those countries' misfortunes, as their nations were gone. Social unrest was rampant, and for the sake of the rest of the world, those countries had been quarantined until a better solution could be found.

Canada still felt guilty for everything, and the nightmares reflected it. He found himself screaming himself awake most nights, and Portugal was usually there to comfort him. For the first two months, it happened so often that Portugal had actually started to sleep next to Canada's bed. It took Canada a month to realise it because if he wasn't caught in the nightmare, he was in a feverish state. Now, Portugal was in the room across from him, but he would still be there if Canada needed him.

Canada hadn't told Portugal, but he remembered much of those last moments of his possession. Such as Portugal's confession. He didn't know how to bring it up, and Portugal remained silent as well, though Canada suspected that it was to allow him time to recover.

At least one other good thing came out of this. England would often call to check on Canada, and he would usually reassure Canada that it wasn't his fault that any of it had happened. A few other nations also called to check in, but Canada suspected that the rest of the world wasn't so accommodating. He hadn't gone to a meeting yet, so he couldn't be sure.

He looked up when he heard the familiar sound of Portugal entering the room. They were in a beach house, and the kitchen area was directly connected to the living room, with a balcony overlooking the ocean. Canada turned towards Portugal, who was busy at the refrigerator. The Portuguese nation turned towards him and smiled.

"Morning, Matteo," Portugal greeted. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Well, I managed to sleep through the night, so I guess it was okay," Canada replied.

"That's great!"

Canada smiled at Portugal's encouragement, before turning back to the ocean.

"Um, do you mind if we go to the beach today?" Canada asked. "It's getting colder, and I would like to go one more time before it's too cold to go."

"Of course!" Portugal said. "And then we can go to this nice café for lunch. My treat, of course."

Canada smiled. He had to make peace with the fact that Portugal liked to treat him.

An hour later, the two of them were strolling on the beach. They weren't holding hands, but Canada's instincts told him that it would be the perfect thing to do.

"Um, Miguel?" Canada asked. Portugal also insisted on Canada calling him by his human name. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Portugal said. "You can ask me anything."

"…How long? You… You said you were in love with me. So… How long?"

Portugal was silent for a moment.

"So, you remember that?" he asked.

Canada blushed, averting his gaze.

"I… I remembered what you said when you gave me the locket," Canada said. "And… I know that's why… you're the one taking care of me. And it's not just because you're the only person that could always remember me."

"Well, that was certainly an important factor," Portugal said. He was quiet for some time. "A few years. Don't worry, you weren't still a child. I'm not a creep."

"I know," Canada said. "You… You just never brought it up again, and… I-I was a bit worried that, after what happened…"

Canada jumped when he felt Portugal grab his hand. He looked down at their intertwined fingers.

"I was just giving you time to recover," Portugal said. "And I didn't want you to feel as though I was taking advantage of your fragile state of mind."

Canada smiled, before he squeezed Portugal's hand.

"You're not," Canada said. "So… after everything that happened… You still want me?"

Portugal kissed Canada on the lips. It was light and chaste, but Canada could feel Portugal's love for him clearly.

"Of course," Portugal said. "I don't think anything can convince me to stop wanting you. When that demon took control of you… I was afraid that I would never have you again. I was afraid that I could never look into your beautiful eyes again. I was afraid that I would never see that sweet smile of yours again. I love you."

Canada smiled lightly. The two resumed their stroll, their hands still intertwined.

Only the epilogue is left. And yeah, I'm updating a story about America dying on his birthday on America's birthday.