A/N Ahaha~ I finally get to introduce a young Canada! d: Seeing a picture of him when he was little, I was all, "Oh, he was just cute! I must write him." ...On another note, I wrote his name as 'Mathieu' instead of 'Matthew' because it makes better sense while he's living with France and all, with the French spelling. (More nonsensical nonsense, I wrote this while listening to Big River Cree's "Stand By Me." It was my inspiration for this one-shot d:)
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Prompt 6: "Mathieu"
Minnesota got along well with his shy older roommate, who only asked to be remembered as Mathieu or Canada.
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A soft sigh escaped Minnesota's lips as the boy's sleeping frame shifted ever so quietly. He was curled up into a ball, his black hair nappy and loose from the tight braid that came out during the middle of the night. Although the sun's bright beams of light shone on his face, Minnesota remained asleep, too tired to sit up and rub his eyes. France had left the boy four days prior, promising that when he returned, he would bring back a surprise. Minnesota cracked open a glazed over eye as the memory of France leaving after his promise ran through his mind. "His surprise better be learning the art of frying bread," he muttered under his breath as a smirk crept its way on his face.
Sitting up slowly, his back leaned against the wooden headboard and he emitted a yawn. Without France around, barking orders in his saccharine voice, Minnesota often stayed up way passed his usual bedtime and wandered far out into the forest, which resulted in sleeping in late in the morning—if he ever got up in the morning. This morning was different, however; Minnesota felt as though France was going to return that day and he didn't want the Frenchman to be disappointed in the scruffy appearance his new found 'son' took on over the days he was gone.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Minnesota's eyes were shut before he slowly got up on his feet. Hunching over awkwardly, he made his way towards the door and left, leaving behind a messy bed. His feet shuffled across the slick floor noisily while he entered the silent kitchen. Opening his eyes at last, Minnesota groaned – along with his stomach – when it hit him that he'd miscalculated his rations and he had no food left for the morning. Or more loosely said—he had nothing to eat until France came back.
"Shit," he grumbled with a stern look, "I should just go back to bed if there ain't nothin' to do." His nose scrunched as he stuck out his lip in a pout. "But I'm starving..." Defeated because he knew he had no choice but to wait for France, Minnesota walked away from the confines of the kitchen, for the sight of that awful, fluffy, tasteless French bread was getting more and more tempting by the second. And no way in Hell was Minnesota choking down the terrible filth. If it was considered a meal, it was going to have to be the absolute last resort.
Clicking his tongue, Minnesota grabbed a deck of cards that were set up neatly on the edge of the counter. "Man, I wish Corbin didn't have to go. We coulda played Bullshit(1) today," he mused as he settled himself at the mahogany dining table. He shuffled the cards carelessly, which went awry—all 52 of the cards slipped away from his fingertips and rather dramatically made their descent onto the floor. While he was vexed that he had to pick up the cards by his lonesome, Minnesota was relieved to have something to do that would take his mind off of food. Sighing with annoyance, the boy dropped to his knees and very slowly, he peeled the cards off the floor.
This continued on for the next hour, with Minnesota 'accidentally' dropping a few of the cards just so he had to pick them back up again. When that started to get on his nerves, Minnesota came up with the idea to sort them by the symbols on the faces of the thin rectangles of specialized paper and that kept him busy for an additional twenty minutes. After that, the binoojing gave up on the cards and set the deck neatly on the table. Stretching, Minnesota hopped down from his seat at the table and started to walk around to get the pins-and-needles feeling out of his leg.
Almost instantly, a loud clacking at the front door sounded throughout the palatial home. Minnesota straightened up and quietly crept over to the front door, wary of any strangers that may be on the other side. His fear of peculiar men was put to an early grave, however, as the familiar obsequious voice of none other than the French Republic himself sang through the cracks of the door. "Clotaire? Clotaire~ It's Francis, I have to introduce you to someone," France's muffled voice stated patiently. With a puzzled look twisting onto his face, Minnesota unlocked the door and swung it open fast. 'Apparently, too fast,' the brunette concluded with a smirk when the heavy wooden door crashed into the elder's knee.
"Ouch!" France slapped one of his slender hands onto the bruising knee cap as the door leisurely creaked back into position by Minnesota's feet. The boy kept mischievously grinning all the while the blond tried to regain his composure. With a perverse smile of his own, France haltingly inhaled before speaking, "Monsieur Clotaire," another abrupt breath, "I would like you to meet mon autre fils(2), Mathieu Williams. He's going to be staying with us; he'll be your next-door roommate upstairs~ Isn't that nice?" Minnesota stood there as his chestnut eyes darted around the Frenchman's looming figure – 'Who the hell is he talking about?'
"B-bonjour," an unbelievably calm, subdued voice came from behind France, "je suis M-Mathieu ou Mattie. Et v-vous(3)?" Furrowing his brow, the small territory peered around France's waist and located the owner of the voice. He was no older than eleven and was, undoubtedly, a clean-cut boy who had an abnormally large curl that extended noticeably from his wavy, sandy brown hair. In his arms, the older boy cradled a Polar bear cub, which was fast asleep in his master's arms. Minnesota also noted that the boy quivered unintentionally as he stared at the newborn.
"... I really have no idea what you just said, niij(4)," the brunette admitted in his accented English. France, sensing the confusion between his two 'sons,' chortled unenthusiastically.
"Minnesota," the blond mustered up, his voice still cracked from the pain his knee experienced only moments before, "Mathieu introduced himself to you." Minnesota stared blankly into France's oceanic orbs while an invisible Mathieu looked on. "So... aren't you going to return the favor?" France inquired with a hint of puzzlement. Rolling his eyes with disdain, Minnesota glanced over at Mathieu, who watched timidly.
"Boozhoo," the binoojing responded in a gruff tone, "Mnisota ndishnikaaz(5)." France's fiery eyes bore into Minnesota's scalp and the boy swallowed down an apology. Clearing his throat, he said in English, "Hey, I'm Minnesota, but I guess my other name is Clotaire," the boy introduced himself in a proper tone. An idea started building up in his mind as the brunette thought of a certain question for his caretaker. "'Ay France." The nation looked down with a quizzical glint in his eyes. "How come I have two names, but Mattie has one?" His new older brother stiffened as crimson feathered his cheeks while France let out a relaxed chuckle.
"Oh, Mathieu does have a territorial name that partners with his mortal name," France asserted in his soothing voice. The Native boy glared at the Frenchman, waiting impatiently for an answer. "This is Canada, my first son. He's a good little boy, as are you," the elder chimed proudly. "You boys are going to be famous in the New World sometime in the future. I just know it," France continued while dreams of his boys being wrapped up in expensive silk and fabrics for somehow changing the world.
Minnesota shook his head while scowling at the nation's fluttering daydreams. Canada, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile naively as he gently pet his cub's fur. "I really hope so, all I want is for someone to remember me," the Canadian murmured softly to himself. The brunette blinked and he turned his body to face his new 'brother.' The light haired boy gave the territory a wary smile as he giggled nervously.
A radical thought raced through Minnesota's mind before he tugged on Mathieu's elbow and forced him to bend down to the territory's level. With a wicked expression, the little boy declared, "You'll never have to worry about that, Canada, because I'll never forget you. You can believe that." In all honesty, Minnesota wasn't quite too sure on whether or not he really was going to remember Mathieu all the time. The Canadian looked as though he was shy and cautious of his surroundings; Minnesota didn't really like people like that. Sakima would often punish the children in the tribe in order for them to speak up for themselves. Thankfully, Minnesota never had to worry about that—he was the one always being punished for speaking up (more specifically, arguing with Sakima about anything the chief said).
However, Minnesota felt different about this towards Canada. The boy gave off a comfortable aura, once you got passed his fragile appearance and incessant stuttering. Plus, his eyes were a nice mix of cerulean and violet, and Minnesota didn't want to feel guilty by putting him down the way he did to France and making his adoptive brother cry. He really hated it when people cried, but he despised boys that did it, even though Sakima told him it was a cleansing of the soul(6). If he was going to hang out with Canada for an undetermined amount of time, then he had to bring Canada out of his sensitive shell and into the real world of hunting and running.
"Why, thank you, Monsieur Clotaire," Canada said in a grateful, yet timid voice, bringing Minnesota out of his musings. "No one's really said that to me before... you're the first, actually." The light haired boy then hung his head as he laughed shakily at his confession.
Oh yes, Minnesota had much to teach to his pitiful, sensitive older 'brother.' But that could wait for another day.
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1 – OK, this is my favorite card game to play, but I'm not too keen on the history of it. If you've never played Bullshit before, you have to play it ASAP. I'm not good at all on teaching stuff, so you'll have to look up the rules online or something, but it's like a game of deceit; you have to keep a poker face when slapping down a card(s). It's pretty complicated to explain, but once you get the hang of it, it's all good.
2 – French for "My other son"
3 – French for "H-hello, I am Mathieu or Mattie. And y-you?"
4 – Ojibwe word for "brother/friend" (You may have recognized it from an earlier note for the word "niijii," which means "my brother/friend."). This word is used as a slang term than anything else.
5 – Ojibwe for "Hi, my name is Minnesota."
6 – "The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears." -Native American proverb
A/N ._.U I really don't like how this ended. But whatever, it's finished d: I'll probably revise these chapters later on in life. For now, though, it'll be left as is.