Eyes of an examerican[remake]

chapter 2

He wakes up to an alarm clock. 5:30.

He gets out of bed and tries to remember where he is. He's in the city that used to be his treasured capitol. He's in the blue building with the white and blue lobby and the brown haired receptionist. He's in a little apartment with neutral walls and nice view.

He vaguely remembers a large, beautiful house with many memories. Memories that were burned like the wood around it. Memories that were forgotten like cinders swept away by the wind.

He shakes his head. It hurts to remember.

He puts on a suit and tie and dress shoes. Gray and white and black. So boring. So nice. He works for the government of Canada. The Canada that stretches from the tip of North America to Mexico's land of Texas. There's no country in between. The one that was dissolved 50 years ago, in six days.

Hurts. Hurts. Hurts.

He's here to see them again. But not meet them. He'll know who they are, they'll see him as an attendee. Because they won't recognize him. He won't let them.

He waits beside the mirror in the front hall of the building they are meeting in for this week long conference. In what used to be D.C. He winces slightly.

The door opens and a commanding presence enters.

A presence with blond, maybe light brown hair. With lavender eyes behind rounded glasses. With this ridiculous strand of hair that completely takes away from his commanding figure. A presence that looks almost identical to-

"Who are you?" Canada- Matthew- Canadaasks.

The man almost wants to laugh it was so ironic. But he doesn't, instead he replies in a soft, cool voice, "Hello sir, I'm the assistant to Mr. Williams for this meeting."

Canada gives a curt nod, "That is me, do you have the papers?"

The man nods and raises a brief case, "Yes, sir."

"Good, accompany me," With that he turns and strides down the hall.

The man turns to accompany him but first glances at the mirror.

Black hair. Brown eyes. Tan skin. No glasses. No weird hair.

No wonder Canada couldn't remember him.

What a boring meeting...

The man's mind had numbed about an hour ago. It was a world meeting, but the their bosses had come as well, so chaos was a no-no. Too bad, he was looking forward to see how everyone was faring. On second thoughts, if it was a nations only meeting then he wouldn't be there. Oh well.

Boring topics from boring speakers in a boring room in a boring country. Well, the country wasn't boring all the time. And this city definitely wasn't boring while it was still named Washington D.C. Now it was a boring city with a boring name that he swears not to learn.

Finally someone calls a lunch break. Someone with blond gelled hair and piercing blue eyes and- someone named Germany. The man smiled slightly, he almost forgot about their names. No, he would never forget their names. It was them who would forget his.

Canada looks at the man with the unseeing eyes that wants to make the man laugh like he once did before.

"Excuse me, sir, but I forgot to ask your name."

Question in statement form. Canada has become more assertive, more official, more boring. But better.

The man answers as it was his name all his life, "Adams, sir, Peter Adams."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams."

"Please, call me Peter," A nation has the right to be superior to a human. Even if he wasn't a human. Entirely human at any rate.

"Of course... Peter," Canada says before giving his order of which food he wants from where and when to get it to him.

The man remembers, nods, and leaves. Nobody recognizes him.

He walks to the place where his Mr. Williams wants food from. When he walks in the door chimes to announce his presence. Many other people are there, he knows them all. Yet they don't know him. Consciously. Unconsciously they do know him and part for him. He has a small smile.

He walks to the back to order from this cafe. Two people are also back there. Two people he kno- knew well. Two people who don't know him.

One with messy blond hair. With emerald green eyes. With eyebrows that are almost always mistaken for caterpillars.

The other with beautiful blond hair. With mischievous blue eyes. With a stubble of a beard.

Both similar in height.

The man ponders, bored.

England and France.

They're bickering. Again. They haven't changed at all. The man wonders why none of their kind ever changes. Well, Canada changed. No, he's always been that on the inside. He was passive-aggressive. The man has changed, though. He changes everyday.

That's not true.

He's always been the same. Always changing, always hiding, always different. So he never changed, either. Because changing was regular to him. If he ever stayed in one person or one mind set or one personality then he would truly change.

England- Arthur- England notices the man with the black hair and brown eyes.

"Hey, aren't you Matthew's attendant?" He asks.

"If you mean Mr. Williams, then yes," The man says in a monotone. He's been having a hard time conjuring new feelings and personalities and mind sets lately. All he can do is look different to the eyes, but not the mind. The mind who looked anyway.

"Oh, okay. Ask him if he wants to meet with us, Francis and Arthur, at our regular bar today, will you? Thanks," He says without waiting for a reply. England turns and attempts to stop France from groping the unfortunate passing waitress.

The man slips past them and orders. He looks directly into the eyes of the waiter. Her eyes widen slightly and reflects a brilliant blue, but only for a second. They become normal once more and she doesn't seem to remember that second. The only hint is that he gets his order before everyone else.

The man, Peter Adams as he calls himself, has delivered the lunch to Mr. Williams remarkably fast.

"Thank you, Peter," Canada says, "But how did you get it so fast? If I'm not mistaken, the cafe is always busy during the week."

The man smiles slightly, "I have my ways, Mr. Williams."

To this Canada's eyes narrow slightly but it passes quickly as he dismisses any suspicions for the man is just a normal attendant. Or so he thinks. And for all anybody knew he could be right.

The man speaks again, "While I was there two men, who referred to themselves as Mr. Francis and Mr. Arthur, asked me to ask you if you wished to go to your regular bar today."

Canada nodded, "Thank you. I'll have to tell them 'no'..."

Once upon a time that was me.

The man smiles, more like slightly curve up the corner of his mouth, and looks at the floor.

Things have changed.

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Another chapter completed! I hope you liked it!

\(°^°)/~Thismexicanisout~\(°^°)/