So there was some confusion in the first chapter, but I want to assure my readers that this will eventually be EnglandxCanada. There's still a chapter after this!
I want to apologize in advance for this horrible story. I seem to work on it only when I'm the most tired, and yeah... But I'm determined to at least finish it.
Hope you guys like it! Now, Onwards!
"Want to go for a walk?"
Matthew looked up from his book, The Art of War this time, and nodded. Arthur smiled as the other stood up. They left the cottage, walking along the winding path that entered the forest behind their new home.
"How's everything going with your mentor?" asked Arthur.
"It's going pretty well."
"He seems like a kind man." Matthew scoffed at this.
"No one can be kind after they've seen what he's seen." Arthur gave him a puzzled look.
"You mean war?"
"England has spoken to you about it?"
"He has."
"Then you must know." Canada kicked at the leaves by his feet.
"I try not to dwell on it so much."
An awkward silence fell between the two. They walked side-by side through the forest. The dim sunlight from the morning sunrise filtered through between the leaves of the trees above.
"England and America are together too you know."
"I've noticed."
"It's interesting isn't it? Alfred and I are together, our predecessors are together… Seems like something in those novels we read." Matthew's smile tightened.
"It seems like it's destiny."0Arthur laughed lightly at this.
"Maybe."
Maybe.
"What is the purpose of having us anyways?" asked Matthew, who was currently lying on the couch. Canada sat on the armchair next to him.
"Representatives for each nation?"
"Yes." Canada pondered for a bit before replying.
"There are a few reasons. One being that in any case that total destruction was to occur, if many people died, we would be the ones left here."
"Even strengthening tablets can't stop us from dying."
"That's true. But it greatly limit's the ways we could die. Thus, we'd survive longer than the average person. So if there really was total destruction of the world, we'd most likely be the ones left. Us growing up amongst each other, as friends, classmates, and such in Hetalian Academy form a bond between us as nations that can no longer be found among humanity."
"So… Essentially if the world was to ever fuck up enough and everyone but us dies, the world starts anew with peace?"
"That's the gist of it."
"That's stupid." Matthew huffed. "We'd probably be dead too by then."
"There are other reasons too."
"Such as?" Canada shifted in his seat.
"Not so much now… But way back when, people knew of our existence."
"Really?"
"They did. It gave them something to fight for, you know? Sometimes, when things are too general, you tend to think selfishly. Having one person, a person to live for, can become the greatest motivation."
"Why isn't our existence known so much now?"
"Well for one thing, some may proclaim it as a violation of our human rights." Matthew snorted at this. "And for another, it's much easier to covet another country's representative when more people know who to look for." Canada replied softly.
"That's true…"
At that moment, France walked in, quickly followed by Francis.
"Ah, Canada, mon cher."
"Good morning France, Francis. Sa va?"
"I would love to say sa va bien, but this morning hasn't been so great." Matthew quirked an eyebrow.
"How so?"
"They've been arguing again." Sighed France, annoyed. "They are just like America and England. And my room is right next to theirs too. It's a pain."
"They seem to have been arguing more than usual lately."
"You know them. When they're both angry, they take the most irrelevant things about each other and make it relevant. More so now that they have a deeper understanding of their history together." Matthew shifted his eyes to France at this.
"Their history? What did they bring up?"
"The usual. This morning Arthur jabbed at him about how America didn't run to England's aid in WW1 until the very end, where they didn't really even end up on the battlefield. He said that since he is essentially the same as America, he would abandon Arthur too if the time came."
"That's stupid. That has nothing to do with them personally."
"But that's them." Canada suddenly spoke up. "It's always been that way, and it will always be that way. They fight. They find the worst in each other. They accuse each other of things that they have no control over. They are not compatible. They cause harm emotionally and physically to each other. But they are together, and when the good is good, it's great. It's like they're addicted to a certain kind of sadness. They fight, they fuck, and then they fight again. It's a never-ending cycle.
"To them, love and hate seem to be the same thing."
"You love him."
It was a statement. Simple as that. Canada paused in his writing. Matthew watched him, expressionless. He could see the other's knuckles turn white, his grip on his pen tightening.
"We all loved him. They all loved America."
"Mattie! What are you doing up so late?" Matthew looked up. It was a little past three in the morning, and after a dash of insomnia, the Canadian boy had wandered to the den to read Goodbye To All That. He didn't expect Alfred to walk in - or rather, to walk in with the evidence of intimacy all over him.
"The both of you going at it like rabbits kept me up."
"What! Really?"
"I was kidding Alfie. Though, I would much rather you not parade around the cottage smelling of sex. Have you ever heard of a shower?"
"Aw Mattie! If I took a shower this late I'd wake up everyone." Matthew rolled his eyes.
"Where's your boytoy?"
"In bed. He fell asleep right after, 'cause I was that good."
"I don't mean to be rude, but fuck off Alfred."
"That's mean! You wound me!" Alfred's smile faltered when he garnered no response from his best friend.
"Mattie? You okay?"
"Hmm? Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's just that… You used to laugh when we joke like this." Matthew looked at him, surprised written on his face.
"Really?" He hadn't noticed it. Now that he thought about it, Alfred and Arthur's relationship seemed to have bothered him a lot more lately.
"Matthew… I think I know what's wrong."
"Oh really? Enlighten me."
"You've never been in a relationship before. It's bothering you, isn't it?"
A heavy silence filled the room. Then, Matthew cracked a smile. The smile soon turned into laughter.
"Shh! You don't want to wake up the entire household!I'm your best friend! You can talk to me about these things, it's okay!"
"Oh geez Alfie! You're not serious, are you?"
"Well why else would you be so bothered lately?"
"Why do you love Arthur?" Alfred frowned at the question.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You guys fight. More often lately." Alfred huddled into himself.
"Every couple fights, right?" At Matthew's I'm-not-buying-it look, he continued. "When it's good, it's really good. He's a gentleman. It's the little things, y'know? If I forget something he'd softly remind me, when I'm upset he would do anything to make me feel better, I don't know! He just… He makes me feel happy."
"Then why do you fight?"
"I guess… It depends on our moods. The things that seem endearing when everything is going good seem annoying when I'm not in a good mood. So we fight."
"So your relationship changes depending on your mood?" Alfred shot him a hurt look.
"What are you trying to say?" Matthew simply looked back to his book.
"I'm just stating what it seems like. How do you think this affects Arthur?"
"He has his own mood problems too."
"Are you sure? Or does his moods reflect whatever mood you're in?" Alfred stood up, rage clearly evident on his face.
"What are you implyi-" Then he stopped. A sympathetic look appeared on his face. "Oh Mattie. It really is, isn't it?" Matthew shot a look at Alfred.
"What?"
"You are just angry that it's always been the three of us, but you are the only one that is actually lonely. You're scared that once we leave the cottages me and Arthur will keep in touch but we will leave you behind."
"Wipe that fake sympathy off your face. It isn't like that."
"You are just a bitter little virgin."
WHACK!
"Fuck you, Alfred."
"You wish you could."
And with that, Matthew stormed out of the cottage.
"Canada?" Matthew asked hesitantly. The figure turned around.
"Oh, Matthew. Why are you up so late?"
"Why are you up so late?" The elder shrugged.
" It's a full moon tonight. I just wanted to watch."
"Can I join you?" The other nodded. They sat in a comfortable silence as they watched the night sky subtly shift and change, the moon brightly lighting their surroundings.
"Sometimes..." Canada suddenly spoke up, garnering Matthew's attention. "I like to sit out here during the nighttime and just... Reflect."
"I'd much rather not think and just live. It's too painful to let myself think."
Canada laughed lightly.
"That's true... But there are times like these that I look up at the moon and think to myself 'we are a small part of something much bigger than ourselves.' We are a part of a never-ending story. When we are living, we think of ourselves. Who we are, our personal purpose, what we want to do, our 'bucket list'. But when we die, we become woven into a story. We become a part of history. Here we are, alive, watching the moon - the same moon that the very first Canada has seen as well." Matthew contemplated this.
"Do you think the first Canada looked up at the moon and thought of England, the way we are now?"
"They do say history repeats itself."
Matthew contemplated this.
"I don't want it to repeat." He replied softly. "I want it to change."
"Are you selfish enough to steal him away?"
Matthew laughed humourlessly.
"As if I could do that."
"Then are you going to try to fall out of love?"
"Did you try it?" Canada nodded. "With who?"
"France." Matthew looked at him, surprised. "Unlike you, I was friends with him back in Hetalian Academy. Later on I found out he had feelings for me, and it all became quite messy." Matthew looked at the ground.
"So you stayed in love with England."
"I did. I didn't want to risk hurting anyone else but me."
"'but me' eh ... then... what about me? Would you hurt me?" Matthew asked, immediately looking away after realising how long his eyes had lingered on his mentor.
Hurting, to Matthew, was something he wanted to have.
"Matthew-"
"Don't stop." It was more of a plea than a demand. Long, pale fingers wove desperately through blonde locks, tightening at ever thrust. Violet eyes met violet eyes, both looking, but not seeing.
"Faster."
"I'll hurt you if I-"
"Just do it!"
Their movements amongst the sheets became faster, more frantic.
It was wrong.
Things weren't meant to be like this.
"Make me forget." Tears streaked down Matthew's face. "Make me forget him."
He cried. He hardly ever did, but he wept. He wept for himself. He wept for Canada. He wept for every single one of his predecessors who had unrequited love for England.
And they released, and Canada fell on top of Matthew in exhaustion.
"You did it with your mentor." Matthew refused to look at Francis in the eye.
"I did."
"Why?" Matthew wiped the dish dry, then gently placed it into the cupboard above him.
"It won't change your feelings. Both of your feelings." Francis whispered knowingly.
"At least we can pretend."
"That each other is Arthur? You think that helps?"
"Then what, huh?!" Snapped Matthew. "Don't feed me that 'time heals all wounds' bullshit because every personification before me have loved him and none of them got him. And then I'll have to tell the one after me that they will never be loved, because it's always been that way. Every single damn personification of Canada."
"You could just tell him. It's worth a shot. Do what all your predecessors couldn't do."
"I… I don't want to give him guilt."
"Be selfish for once, Matthew."
And then Francis walked away.
I never did tell him.
In our twentieth year, we left the cottages. We all went our separate ways, going to our respective countries. As the years passed by, tensions in Europe increased rapidly, especially with the rise of fascism and the Nazis in Germany. I did all I could to prepare myself for war. From what I learned about the first world war, our country will do most of the dirty work, and hardly get the recognition.
But it didn't matter, so long as I somehow managed to help England.
I say England because I am now Canada. My mentor reached his fortieth year some time ago.
Those strengthening tablets we took did have a severe side effect. Like many other sorts of medications, or energy boosts, or drugs, it would improve everything, but after a certain amount of time, it crashes down.
If we were to live past our fortieth year, we aged and weakened much faster than the average person.
So when we did reach that age, we simply 'completed'.
I couldn't bear to see my mentor get the injection. We said our goodbyes before he went into the completion room.
Completion room. What a quaint name.
True to Alfred's word, I never did contact with them after the cottages. Not for awhile anyways.
November, 1940
"Corporal Williams." Cold, icy violet eyes darted to the source of the voice.
"Indeed I am. What news?" The soldier shrunk back a bit under the other's sharp gaze.
"Corporal Kirkland of the British Armed Forces has been found."
"Bring me to him."
"Yes sir."
Canada followed through a series of winding hallways. There was much chaos around them. Painful moans pervaded the air, the scent of blood mingled with that of morphine. The cries of distress surrounded Canada, but he ignored them, briskly following the soldier.
This was a hospital after all.
"Corporal Williams. He resides in there."
"Thanks you soldier." The soldier saluted, then left quickly. Canada turned the knob and opened the door.
"Canada."
"Please leave us for a few moments."
"He is about to get his-"
"I understand. But please give us ten minutes. That's all I ask."
The nurse, annoyed, reluctantly nodded her head. She whispered a few words to the huddled figure in the bed, then left the room.
"Arthur." The figure did not move. "You look like shit."
"Git." Canada could not fight off the relief he felt at the sound of the other's voice. He walked around the bed to sit in the chair beside Arthur. His dog tags clinked at the movement. England opened one eye to look at them.
"Corporal Williams? Nice cover-up. I can see that your second dog tag is still attached. You're not dead yet I see."
"As if Kirkland is any better of a name. And I'm talking to you, aren't I? So I'm very much alive. You, on the other hand…"
"Bugger off." Snapped Arthur, groaning at the movement. "And damn this Blitz."
"I see Alfred hasn't entered the war."
"That idiot wouldn't do anything unless it punched him in the face."
"So you punched him in the face?" Sniggered Canada.
"What do you mean he- oh."
"A little slow, aren't you?"
"I'm a mess of morphine and nausea. What do you think?"
"You still with him?"
"No." That caught Canada off guard.
"Wait.. What?"
"He and I aren't together anymore. It's done."
"When?"
"There was no when. When the war started I hardly contacted him. His lack of care for me angered me. So we just simply stopped talking. I just consider us as done." Canada's eyes went wide.
"Well… Shit."
There was a knock at the door before the nurse walked back in, followed by a doctor. Canada stood up to give them access to England.
"How many this time?" the bed-ridden nation asked.
"Four." Four-thousand more dead. England nodded, expressionless. The doctor lifted Arthur's shirt up, before the nurse handed him a sterilized knife. He made four deep incisions under the five that were already there on his side.
Four plus five.
Nine thousand people dead so far.
"I love you."
"I know." Canada looked at England, surprised. He took a particularly longer drag from his cigarette.
"Alfred told you, didn't he."
"No he didn't." Canada quirked his eyebrow. "Your mentor did."
"What? He did?" England looked away.
"He did. And I told him I knew. I always knew."
"Then why did you choose Alfred over me?" England turned to look at Canada.
"Because you are not like him. You are gentle. You are selfless. You are stronger than you let on. I didn't want to destroy that. I didn't deserve you. Alfred was fragile, too needy." Canada stayed silent. "At first, I did love Alfred. He seemed strong, something I needed. You were the soft, gentle boy who was like a brother to me. As time went on, I found all the flaws in Alfred. I blamed him for his flaws, so he blamed me for mine."
"So you fell out of love. What then?"
"When I wasn't with him, I hated him. I hated him so much. But when I was with him, I loved him. I forgot all about his flaws and I loved him. It was a never-ending cycle. My twisted feelings, they confused even me, why would I want to hurt you with them?"
Canada reached out and held England's hand.
"I want to be hurt."
FINAL CHAPTER COMING UP. Ugh this monstrosity of a fanfic. Every time I decide to write this one, It's like, 3 A.M. and my mind is like, dead. But I want to finish what I've started.
Honestly, the part where Matthew and Canada 'do it', I switched between France or Canada so much... I didn't know if it would be entirely appropriate. But I settled with 'one would rather console themselves rather than search for others and hurt them in the process', so I went with Canada instead.
Reviews and favourites are appreciated!