Something I started a little while ago and just finished :3 A lot of people portray Canada as being suicidal. But what if he really isn't? What if he's just really, really, clumsy? xD

I Swear I Didn't!

The bright morning sun shone through the window. It had been there for about two hours now, but had gone unnoticed by the single person sleeping in the queen sized bed. It wasn't until an alarm clock finally went off that the person stirred and grudgingly opened his eyes. Violet eyes appeared from under the covers as he reached out a hand to shut off the annoying alarm. He thought once of turning over and going back to bed, but thought better of it and pulled the covers off of him.

The blonde stood next to the bed and stretched, trying to get rid of the rest of his tiredness. When he found that stretching wouldn't wake him up, he sighed and marched out of the room, downstairs, and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was one of his favorite places. This was where breakfast was made and where the syrup was kept. Who couldn't love a place as wonderful as that? He glanced over at the clock and grumbled at his luck. He hadn't gotten up early enough to make pancakes! The World Meeting would be starting in an hour and he still needed to get ready, not to mention the fifteen minute drive over to the place. Sighing he settled for the frozen heat up Eggo waffles he deemed to be "rip offs." At least he had his maple syrup.

When he was finished he whisked himself into the bathroom after stopping by his bedroom to grab his clothes. He jumped into the shower as soon as the water came on ignoring the cold for the first few minutes. He cleaned himself and washed his hair before jumping out, drying, and throwing on his clothes. He then walked to the mirror and attempted to both brush his teeth and dry the rest of his hair at the same time.

Spitting out the last of the toothpaste and rinsing off his brush, he grabbed his comb. He brushed his no longer wet, but slightly dampened hair. Even damp, he still could hardly tame his golden locks. Especially that one piece that curled itself around and dangled away from the rest of his hair. "Well, this is as good as it's going to get," he sighed to himself. He then paused and replayed the words in his head. "I sound like a teenage girl," he chuckled to himself as he ran out of the bathroom.

He ran into his front hall and grabbed the briefcase he had set out the day before. Opening the door, he turned around and looked back into the house. "Breakfast is in your bowl! See you later, Kumajiki! Be good!" he shouted to his pet polar bear who was somewhere in the house.

Canada was on his front stone step when he heard a muffled voice say, "Who are you?" He sighed. That stupid bear never remembered his name.

"I'm Canad-AHH!" he was cut off as he took a tumbled down the three stone steps of his house. He quickly picked himself up, but looked down at his hand. "Shit!" he swore when he saw a trickle of blood run down the underside of his wrist. If he turned back, he would surely be late. He decided to run to his car and see if he could find a napkin or tissue or something. The cut wasn't deep and the blood would stop soon regardless.

He jumped into his small red car and whipped out his keys. He really loved his car. It was just perfect for him. It only seated five people, but for just him and sometimes Kumajiro or Alfred it was perfect. He dug through his glove compartment and found a white tissue. He dabbed up the blood and tossed the tissue in a plastic bag he used for garbage. He then put his car in reverse and drove off to the meeting.

The meeting went rather well. Well, kind of. A few countries began fighting amongst each other, but Germany eventually stopped them as he usually has to. It was a rather normal meeting with few resolutions, but also few new problems.

Finally, lunch came and Canada took out the sandwich he had brought for himself. Many of the other countries went around to talk to each other, but Canada kept to himself like he did every meeting. That is probably why he was so startled when someone tapped him on shoulder. He spun around almost dropping his sandwich and came face to face with ruby red eyes.

"Hey, kid," the person said in a gruff voice, "Whatcha eating?"

"Uh… A… A sandwich," Canada stammered although the statement came out in a question. The person smiled and backed away revealing himself to be Prussia, the self-proclaimed "most awesome man on Earth."

"You're Canada, right kid?" he asked. Canada nodded. "Look, I know the other nations don't pay much attention to you. And I know that's totally not awesome, but I just want to talk to you." Canada raised an eyebrow. "Look, kid. You don't need to do things to yourself. You're pretty awesome. I mean look at you! You totally top America! Literally!"

"What are you talking about?" Canada asked. Prussia was actually beginning to sound a little crazy. Maybe he ate too many wursts. Then again, he also talked to a little yellow bird that was resting on his shoulder at the moment.

"You know what I'm talking about," Prussia frowned. Before Canada could ask, he continued. "Look, kid. I know that life is hard, but it's going to get better. I promise. And I'm awesome so I never break a promise! So don't hurt yourself."

"I still don't know what you're talking about…"

"Kid! Look at yourself!" Prussia shouted grabbing Canada's arm and turning it over revealing a healing wound. The blood had long since dried up and it was healing nicely.

"This? Oh!" Canada chuckled, "I fell down my front stairs today. I was in too much of a rush this morning and just toppled over! Whoops! Well, you know things happen. My front steps are stone and a little jagged on the edges. They hurt!"

"You don't have to lie," Prussia said with a frown. "Just don't hurt yourself anymore. Ok?"

Canada contemplated telling him that he was wrong, but figured it was hopeless. "Alright, Prussia," he said, "I'll be more careful. Sorry for making you worry." Prussia's face brightened.

"Awesome!" He shouted, "And hey! Don't call me 'Prussia.' Call me Gilbert. That is my name after all!"

Canada smiled back. "Alright," he said in his quiet voice, "Then you can call me Mathew." Prussia smiled and happily walked away thinking that he had just saved someone's life. And saving people was awesome. Which made him awesome!

Canada sighed to himself. Of course the only time people would notice him would be if they thought he was harming himself. But really, he was just fine! Being alone wasn't all that bad. Sure, being invited to parties like the others would be really nice. And maybe if his brother respected him a little more or at least remembered him, life would be a little better.

The lunch break ended quickly and the meeting began again. Countries fought and argued over trivial things. By the end of the meeting, Germany had given up all hope of actually getting anything done and only spoke again when he was adjourning the meeting. Everyone then began gathering their things and a few countries waved a swift goodbye and shuffled out.

Canada was packing up his briefcase and gathering his papers when he felt a tap on the shoulder. Stuffing the last of the papers into the folder, he turned around to find himself face to face with sky blue eyes. The owner of them backed away and smiled. But his smile seemed forced and wavered a little bit.

"Hey, dude," he said, "Uh… I guess I just want you to uh… Know that… I'm always here for you… Because we're brothers… And that's what brothers do… Right?" He blushed and looked down at the floor.

"Sure Alfred," Canada said, "Is anything wrong, though? You look a little distant."

America let out a forced laugh as he looked around the room nervously. "Well, uh… Nothing's wrong with me… But… Well, I heard some things."

Canada frowned and arched an eyebrow at his brother. He had heard things? Well, what kind of things? Usually, his brother was not this caring, especially towards him. It was a good day when he even remembered Canada, never mind going out of his way to talk to him.

"What did you hear?" the other asked, looking at his brother with a wary expression.

"Well… I heard that you, uh… Hurt your wrist… On purpose…" America looked down and away, not meeting Canada's gaze. The other nation's eyes widened and he stood up, finding himself taller than his brother by just a centimeter or two.

"Alfred, I don't know what you heard, but I can assure you that I didn't hurt myself! I would never! I fell down my front steps today and you know that they're stone. I got a scratch, but it's fine! I didn't cut myself! I swear I didn't!"

"Me thinks thou doth protest too much, lad," another voice said, coming up behind America. England stood next to the taller nation and looked at
Canada with sad eyes. "Matthew, you can't go on hurting yourself like this. Who knows what it would lead to? I know you are sometimes ignored and I am truly sorry for that, but the world needs you. You can't just end it because you feel sad."

"Woah! Wait, Arthur!" Canada cried. "You don't really think I'd commit suicide, do you, eh?" England looked at him for a moment before looking away. Apparently, he did. "Arthur, I would never do that! I love my life! Why would I hurt myself or kill myself?"

"You tell us, dude," America said softly, gazing at Canada's wrist. "Why would you hurt yourself?"

"Because I fell down the front stairs and scratched my wrist! And it hurt! And I'm going to try to be more careful! But, seriously you two, don't you have more trust in me?" The others didn't respond. Instead, they simply averted their gaze again. "Come on, eh? If I was going to hurt myself, I wouldn't do it someplace so visible!"

America's eyes widened. "Get his pants off!"

"Wait, what?"

England sighed and held onto Canada so he couldn't get away. Alfred jumped for Canada's pants and tried to pull them down. The other blonde struggled and kicked, nearly hitting his brother in the face. Finally, he was able to get away from England's grasp. He wriggled and writhed, jumping back and getting into a defensive position.

"What the hell was that, eh?" he yelled in as loud a voice as his vocal cords would allow.

"We're trying to help you!" America cried.

"That was rape!" Canada shouted back.

"Would you two both kindly shut the bloody hell up?" England shouted at both of them. "Alfred, this isn't helping the situation. I want to help Matthew as much as you do, but shouting at him isn't going to help. It might just make him do it more." Canada opened his mouth to protest the last statement, but England spoke again before he could. "Now, Matthew, you need to find out other ways to express your anger."

"But I'm not angry!" Canada said. Really, he wasn't. He had a nice life. Sure, he was forgotten often, but he really didn't mind. He was shy and didn't like being the center of attention. And when he did get sad, it wasn't enough to make him hurt himself!

"But we always forget you, dude. I know that's kinda mean of us, but seriously! You can't go around doing this! I promise we'll try to not foget you so often, man. I'm sorry." America looked at his brother pleadingly. Canada blinked. He had never heard America talk to him like this. Actually, he had never had a conversation with either England or America that lasted this long. Usually, they forgot who he was half way through a sentence.

"Alfred," Canada sighed and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. He sighed and figured that there was no way the two were going to believe him. It would probably just be best to go along with it. "I'm sorry Alfred, Arthur. I promise I won't do it again."

England smiled. "Good. If you ever need anyone to talk to, we're here... Uh..." His expression went blank and he looked at Canada with a confused face.

"Canada... Matthew," Canada sighed. "I'm going home now, eh? See you later." Before either could stop him, Canada got his things and walked out the door quickly. He was almost out of the meeting hall when he bumped into someone. The familiar sent of cologne filled his nose and he backed away, looking up into blue eyes.

"Ah, mon petite! I have been looking for you!" France smiled. Then he glanced down at Canada's scratched wrist and his expression turned grim.
"Why?" he asked solemnly.

"Why what?" Canada looked confused as he gazed up at France. His eyes then followed the Frenchman's and he sighed as they landed on his cut.

"Francis, I swear I didn't do anything! Come on, why would I? You know me better than anyone else."

France looked troubled. "I'm worried about you, mon cher. I don't want you hurting yourself liked this." Canada sighed inwardly. It seemed that France had ignored everything he was saying. Then again, that was nothing new. "I'm here for you. I promise to help you out, cher."

"Help me with what?" Canada glared. "I'm fine, Francis. I'm not hurting myself. I fell down my front stairs today and got a scratch! Why does no one believe me? And why would people start caring now?" Now, Canada was angry. He was speaking as loudly as he could, aggravated at everyone. No one cared before when he was hurt or sick and now, when they thought he was intentionally hurting himself, they suddenly started getting worried.

"Because we care," France said softly, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder. The other nation shrugged it off and stepped away.

"You never cared before," Canada said bitterly. "Why would you care now? Besides, I'm fine! I wouldn't hurt myself, Francis. No matter how lonely I feel sometimes or how often I get ignored, I'm fine with my life. I wouldn't do something like this intentionally." Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed his briefcase and started to walk away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home." Before France could stop him, Canada was out the door and in his car.

When Canada got home that evening, he was completely worn out. He staggered into the house, glaring at the steps that had caused him so much misery. He collapsed on the couch and turned on the television, not bothering to take his suit jacket or shoes off. The little while polar bear came up to him with a letter in its mouth. Canada looked at it curiously and took it.

"What's this?" he asked the little bear.

"Who are you?"

Canada sighed and opened the envelope, ignoring the question he answered everyday. Inside the envelope was a small card, the kind you got at Hallmark stores that had a pretty design on the front and a blank space inside so you could write your own note. The violet eyed nation opened it and gasped.

Inside, the signatures of most, if not all, of the nations surrounded the main text of the card. In the center of the card was a small note.

We always have cared about you, but never showed it. For that, we're sorry. But do you see now how many people would miss you if you were
gone? You're important to the world.

Canada covered his mouth in surprise. So they did care. They always had. That gave him the best feeling in the world.

But then a second question sprang up. The note made it sound like Canada really was planning to kill himself. Did they really think he would?

Damn...

OoOoO

The month passed quickly and soon, Canada was scrambling out the door for the next one. He grabbed his coat and briefcase before dashing out the front door. "Bye, Kumakichi!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canad-AH!" Canada tripped over the sharp stone steps and fell face first onto the ground. He winced and pulled himself up. A flash of red caught his eye. His wrist was bleeding because of a not deep, but fresh cut.

... Shit.