A/N: .w. This little story sucks tush. Really. I can't write sad things like this. D: Basically, it's just Matthew and Alfred "bonding" before he leaves.

Anyways, I wrote this in Lunch Detention along with Parisian Nights so, I hope you like it~ Reviews make me happy and giddy and squeal like a little girl with her first doll. :3

Eight-year old Alfred F. Jones did not want to move. He loved the house he had lived in since he could remember.

The large playroom full of toys to the kitchen where his Papa made so many great things. But the two most important things were just outside - in the backyard.

Just under the maple tree, a shiny granite slab sat amongst its roots.

We never got to say hello, but you will forever fill our hearts with joy. - Matthew Williams ~ July 1, 1994 -

Alfred didn't know who Matthew was, but he did know that his Papa would sometimes come out and sit by the slab and cry. His Dad would come out and comfort him, and Alfred would be watching from his bedroom window - his parents none-the-wiser.

The second thing that Alfred couldn't leave was his friend. He had so many memories of playing with his friend. Arthur said he must be imaginary, but Alfred didn't understand. Weren't imaginary friends supposed to be invisible? Then again, his Dad always did claim to see fairies and whatnot.

Alfred's friend - although he didn't talk much - was alike him in more ways than either could count. His appearance, albeit softer, was a spitting image of Alfred. He had bright golden hair that was just a bit longer so that it fell to his shoulders, shimmery blue eyes that held a twinkle of violet if the sun was just right, and he was the same age. (Alfred liked that the most.)

He never told Alfred what his name was so when Alfred was four, he began calling him Canada - like the country only a few miles North.

Canada took to his name quickly, sometimes calling Alfred American as a rebuttal.

The two played with each other inside, in the playroom, on most days. (Outside, with the shining sun, it was hard for Alfred to make out more than the white boarder shaping Canada.)

At first, Arthur was worried for his son's sanity, calling Francis several times a day when he suspected the lad to be talking to himself.

"Non, Mon cher, he is just expressing creativity through imaginary friends. Think of it as his own version of those fairies you always talk to," Francis would say. Arthur gave up worrying over Alfred when he turned six. His imaginary friend was harmless - nothing to fret about.

Now, Alfred was in his mostly empty bedroom - only two boxes left to be put in the moving truck.

Canada was sitting on the floor beside him, tracing listless circles into the hardwood.

"I'm gonna miss you," Alfred said quietly. He looked up. "Are you sure you can't come?"

Canada shook his head. "The house won't let me leave, but your Papa said the family moving in has kids... So maybe they'll be able to see me." Canada's transparent body shimmered.

"Well, will you at least tell me your name?" Canada shook his head. Alfred puffed out his cheeks and waved his hand in Canada's fingers, dissipating the ghost-like mist that he was. The mist instantly formed back into a hand and Alfred huffed.

"You already know my name."

"Your real name! Canada's not a name!"

Canada stood up and floated quietly through the door and down the hall. "I do want to tell you and maybe show you something before you go." He stopped in front of Arthur, who was packing the last few glasses and dinner plates. "Arthur says he can see magical things and... I wanted to know if maybe he could see me?"

"I don't know."

Arthur jumped. "Don't sneak up on me, lad! You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack."

"Sorry. Dad! Canada wants to know if you can see him." It's not like this was the first time Alfred had asked the question...

"I'm sorry, Alfred, but I can't see your friend." Arthur turned and walked through Canada, scattering the mist everywhere. Alfred frowned. "Are those last boxes in your room or no?"

"They're still upstairs, Dad." And he added quietly, "You just walking through Canada."

Arthur made his way through the kitchen and to the truck outside. Alfred and Canada followed behind.

"Well, if he walked through me without noticing, I guess that means he can't see me..." Canada shimmered again.

"That doesn't matter then. What did you want to tell me?"

"I'll tell you before you leave, Alfred."

"Dad says the truck's leaving in five minutes." Alfred called through the house, mostly to Canada though. He hadn't seen said boy for a good ten minutes and Alfred was worrying. Just before he was going to give up looking, Alfred spotted the shimmery form of Canada in the backyard. He was sitting in the grass, next to the oak tree, looking at the ground.

"Hey, Canada! Are you okay? Dad said we're leaving soon and you still haven't told me what you said you would." Canada looked up from the slab. His eyes were red and puffy, with a few stray tears still on his cheeks.

"I'm going to miss you, Al. Please… Just don't forget me. Ever." The last of Canada's tears fell off his cheeks and landed on Alfred's jeans. Two stains appeared on them, like the water was real and had not just fallen from a ghost.

"I won't forget you, Canada. You're my best friend; I could never forget you."

Canada stood up, looking into Alfred's eyes. "Do you promise? I'll know if you ever forget." He pointed into the sky. "He'll know too. He said that when you leave, I have to go live with him until you and Papa and Dad die." Alfred wasn't fazed when Canada called them 'Dad' and 'Papa'. He had been here so long; it was hard not to call them that.

"Him… You mean God? Well, tell Him he doesn't have to worry. I won't forget about you and when I go to Heaven, we can play again."

Arthur called from the front lawn. "We're leaving, Alfred!"

The boys could hear the distinct sound of a rusty door open and close.

"Al. My name is Matthew." Canada's shimmering body expanded, tiny crystals fading into the shining sky. Alfred looked up to them in awe.

"M-Matthew?"

A/N: Crap ending is crap. :/

Umm… The part with Matthew saying that Alfred already knows his name is him nonchalantly saying his name is Matthew. :3 And the whole Matthew can't leave the house = spirits are trapped to the place where they died/have unfinished business. Also. I am not religious. At all. I don't believe a thing about God or Jesus or any of that so... yeah. Just wanted to get that out there. :3 Have a nice day/night/morning/evening.

I like to think that Alfred lives in a nice little city in upper Washington State. (Puyallup to be exact. :3 – I don't remember much of the place but it is about two hours from Canada~) /rants more