Inspired by Broken by Lifehouse.
Broken
Broken.
He was broken.
Prussia handed him a glass of water and coaxed him to take a sip. He was barely breathing and the slight rise and fall of his chest was the only sign that he was still in there somewhere. His hands did not shake as he wrapped his fingers around the tumbler but it might have made Prussia feel better if they did; nervousness, terror, even panic was better than this.
"Matthew, please. Drink." Prussia would not ask under normal circumstances; asking was too close to begging for his taste but he was out of options and he knew it. Still, he was relieved that no one else was there to see such weakness. He might no longer be a nation but it did not mean he was pathetic.
Canada raised the glass to his lips and pretended to swallow but Prussia saw a line of water slide from the corner of his mouth and follow the curve of his jaw. As broken as he was and, still, he wanted to please him. He was not here or there but he was still pretending for his sake.
Prussia let it go.
He wanted to protect him but he could not protect him from himself, not really, and Canada was his own worst enemy.
Prussia was the only one who saw him like this; the only one he would let see him like this. It would set him a disadvantage if another nation saw him like this but Prussia was not a threat. Not in that regard. He could not set fire to his towns or ravish the farmland, even if he wanted to; only a nation could declare war on another nation in a moment of weakness and he was no longer a nation.
Somehow, in all of this, he had become neutral ground.
Prussia pried the tumbler out of his clutching hands and set it on the bedside table. He drummed his fingers against the table and studied him.
It seemed that just sitting on the edge of his bed was more intimate than Prussia had ever been with another nation. There was the fact that he wanted to fuck him within an inch of his life, of course, but not like this, never like this. This shade was not Canada… No, it was something more. It was intimate because he wanted to take care of him more than he wanted to hurt him and that was rare.
It was precious.
He was a kingdom built on the ideologies of war and conquest. It was in his bones and his thoughts and in the deepest, darkest parts of him.
No, it was intimate because he wanted to take care of him and it allowed him to see that he was capable of something more. He was capable of kindness.
Who would have thought it? Him, capable of kindness? No one, he was sure, besides Canada would have taken the chance and, in the end, it was their little secret.
The secret was their weaknesses laid open and bare between the two of them; their weaknesses that were somehow so opposite and still intertwined. It was his need to fall to pieces and his own desire to know that there was more to him than mere death and violence. It was his want for protection and his need to give it.
Prussia was holding on to Canada because he represented the last bit of what was good in him.
He was all that was left.
Prussia tucked one of his curls behind his ear and watched him stare into nothingness. He might have been broken but he was still so beautiful that it ached. Prussia grasped his hand and allowed his fingers to dance across his knuckles. If Canada noticed, he could not tell. His hand remained limp in his.
He frowned and shifted his gaze to the broken clock on the wall. Hmmm... How fitting…
The two of them spent more time together than most of the other nations did and that included the few who were inseparable. No one understood it, least of all Prussia, but here he was.
Canada had prepared a permanent 'guest room' for him but he almost never used it. He would rather sneak into bed with Canada. He never touched him; he just wanted to watch him dream and see the tension melt from his face. He wanted to curl up next to the heat of that beating heart just to know that it was still beating. It was comforting rather than sexual.
He would never take what was not offered, no matter what the other nations said, and Canada had not offered.
But he would, sooner or later, and Prussia would be waiting.
Most of the time Canada was bashful and polite and a delight to tease. He possessed more of a backbone than most gave him credit for. He was beautiful and more so because he had no idea how wonderful he could be. He used to be a prize to be won, once upon a time, but now he had been forgotten.
Prussia tightened his grasp on his hand.
These episodes were few and far between but impossible to escape altogether. Prussia glowered at the clock and the seconds that were not ticking past.
Canada was a nation forever changing and shifting. It was as if the population wanted to tear the country apart and piece it back together, again and again, and little could soothe them for long. One wound would appear and heal itself just to be replaced with another; the French were upset with the English, the English were disappointed in the Métis, the Métis were displeased with the Aboriginals. One after another. The Turkish disliked the Russians and the Irish disliked the Polish. The Chinese suspected the Japanese.
The Christians distrusted Muslims and the Muslims felt the same. Homosexuals were afraid of heterosexuals and heterosexuals were afraid of everyone else.
Those with blue eyes disliked those with brown eyes and it was never ending.
It went on and on and on.
Prussia found it frustrating, this circular pattern so familiar in the new world, but there was little he could do besides hold his hand. It seemed that everyone needed someone to hate and poor Canada had all of the flavours of the world in his own backyard.
So, sometimes, he hated himself.
Prussia tore his eyes from the clock and went back to stroking his curls. Canada blinked all of a sudden and seemed confused. Prussia continued to pet his hair.
"Gilbert?"
Prussia swallowed the emotions bubbling under the surface and tried to smile. He knew that he was stronger than this, so much stronger than this, but Canada brought him to his knees as no one before him had managed. He could hide the power Canada had over him from the others but he could not hide it from himself.
"How're you feeling?" Prussia pushed cheerfulness into his voice and if it sounded forced, Canada did not comment.
"Awful. Where am I?" He was too disjointed to even recognize his own bedroom but it would pass.
"Safe."
Canada nodded his head as if that one word was enough. That he trusted Prussia at all was a wonder that never failed to amaze him. Canada reached for his hand this time, instead of the other way around, and he squeezed back.
He was confused but he trusted Prussia. He was not quite himself but Prussia knew that this too would pass. He knew because the two of them had done this several times before. Canada knew for the same reasons.
Prussia wondered what had happened before he was allowed to sit on the edge of his bed and hold his hand. Who had stroked his cheek or brought him water or turned on the lights so that he was no longer sitting alone in the dark? He was the first one to see him like this, as far as he knew, and that terrified him. What had Canada done before he came along? He did not want to picture him sitting alone in the dark.
Canada tightened his grasp as if he could read his mind and tried to return his pathetic smile. It was just as pitiful and tight around the corners.
That was alright. It was a step in the right direction.
Prussia continued to hold his hand because he was broken and wanted to feel safe. Canada held his because Prussia wanted to feel alive and needed. He wanted to feel as if he were the one keeping Canada together and that he might fall apart if Prussia was not there to pick up the pieces. It was not true, he was sure, but the illusion was enough. He wanted to feel needed in a world that did not need him.
He needed to feel needed. He needed it.
And Canada needed him.
The two of them were healing, somehow, even if it was just one broken heart beating for another. It was all that he could ask for. If he could be there for Canada when he was weak, and if he would let him, then it was all he could ask for.
After all, he was broken too.
Author's Notes:
Second one shot this afternoon.
This is almost the flipside of 'Somebody That I Used to Know' with one nation having to deal with the other's issues on their own for a little while. A lot of authors have tried to write Canada as depressed over his loneliness but I do not think that would be enough to break him. Often, their reasoning feels forced to me and I have only found a couple who wrote it in a believable fashion. I suppose this is my answer for that. In this, we see that Canada is torn apart from the inside out and not because someone is ignoring him. (Besides, if you know anything about politics, you know that the conservative government up here has been pissing off the world at large. I wish we were being ignored…) If you are Canadian or American you might recognize the issue discussed here in your own neighbourhood. It seems everyone needs someone to hate and this is made easier in a multicultural country. I cannot imagine how hard that would be on a national representative.
I do not pretend I am above all that. I know that I am frustrated by racist bastards and homophobic assholes and religious zealots. Skinheads and ultra conservatives and bullies. I recognize that and try to pull back on the reins because although I am pansexual, and pagan, and for socialism rather than against it, that does not mean I am right. "The more I learn, the less I know" and all that. It is important to realize that there is not one answer (besides forty two).
But damn if I do not understand some people.
(This rant was brought to you by a bad week.)
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