Disclaimer: I'm running out of ideas for this disclaimer thingy. No own APH.
Sometimes it was so easy to forget that America and Canada were just children.
America acted like a child most of the time, but he was a super-power and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. When England was America's age, he'd still been a little boy, toddling after his big-brother France in admiration. Not America; he'd declared his independence after two hundred years of peaceful rule and then had rose up to be one of the most powerful country in the world. England almost never thought of America as a child—more like Italy, who acted so green but was actually centuries older than a lot of countries.
Canada was so responsible and polite, always in line and never causing any trouble during or after meetings. He never went drinking, he never yelled, he never did anything to make anyone else angry. He was the perfect role model; someone England had truly hoped would rub off on the other, less…rowdy countries. While America, his stupid and rash brother had started a war, Canada had politely asked for his independence (and England had given it to him). None of the other countries ever said he had the mind of a child, and no one thought twice about it. Canada wasn't considered a child.
Some days, though, England was reminded of just how young they were.
England didn't bother to knock as he walked into America and Canada's home; after all, he couldn't count how many times the idiot had just barged into his house.
He placed his box of tea on the counter and shrugged off his duffel bag, smiling softly at the familiar kitchen. England wondered if the boys were up; it was three o'clock in the morning where they were. Slowly England walked down the hall, looking in the doors to see where they might be. Finally he stopped at the door at the end of the hall, and quietly turned the knob and pushed it open.
Light seeped into the room, and it was just enough light for England to see two lumps on the bed, obviously asleep. Smiling slightly at the sight, he walked over towards the sleeping boys—and was startled by what he saw.
The brothers were hugging in their sleep; clinging to each other like a lifeline. Matthew had red, puffy eyes, showing that he'd been crying, and America's mouth was set in a firm line, almost like a defiant child.
England was struck by how young they seemed; so small, so confused in the game of giants. When did they get so big…? England wondered, shaking his head.
How did they deal with it? After all, they were two children thrust into the malicious game of the adults. They should still be laughing and playing video games every day, not worrying about the economy or trying to prevent terrorist attacks. So young and so powerful…had no one asked themselves what the North American brothers wanted? Had no one wondered, are the boys alright with this?
America; belittled and made fun of for who he was.
Matthew; ignored and pushed away for being who he was.
How could they have missed that? How could they have forgotten that they still had the minds of children?
England's memories of before the North Americans were slightly fuzzy, almost like the boys had always been there.
And now he was reminded that they weren't.
Okay, so I was thinking about all the countries one day, and realized that the America's are a lot younger than the other countries. I've never really thought about it before, so...Here. Can you imagine what it would be like? You know, being a kid and being a country?
I couldn't do it.
IceEckos12