Benevolent.

Opia

"You all never let me fucking talk! It's always, 'Canada help me, Canada do this, Canada listen to me, Canada you're so quiet, 'Canada shut the fuck up!'" He whispered furiously, fingers tugging at his now beige-ish hair. "I'm always the ghost of the family! The shadow of the meeting room!"

"Mate, that ain't true," Aus quietly said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He flinched harshly when Canada roughly shoved him back.

"But it is! The only time I got a sliver of actual attention was when I was a perfect little wooden soldier!" You pursed your lips, hands on your hips. You intently listened, careful for any hinting words to help you grasp onto anything.

You're worried, you're concerned. And you don't even know why.

Of course, you're worried for every single one of your clients, it's human nature. But he isn't a client. He's a friend. A close friend acting so erratically, you lost your grip.

You lost your grip on how to help.

Maybe the resemblance to your Noah is what's putting you off, maybe the similarities in behavior are too uncanny. Maybe that's why you lost that burning rope in your hands.

Sometimes it's better to let go, he said.

Sometimes it's less painful to let the other hold onto that noose, so you don't have to bear witness.

But no, you can't let that happen. Not again.

Canada spun around to face UK, pointing an accusatory finger. "You only liked me when I was batshit crazy because you liked the thought of someone taking all the blame."

"Canada, you're not crazy, man." UK slowly said.

"There's a fucking convention after me!"

"Cuz you threw bombs pretending they were food cans!"

"Oh don't talk all high and mighty, Mr. Land of the free home of the brave," He spat, throwing his hands in the air from pure frustration. "You done some pretty fucked up shit in the past."

"What I don't get is your fucking problem with me. What the fuck did I ever do to you?"

"What didn't you do?! No matter what I did, it was never enough compared to you. When you revolted, I thought maybe this was my chance, maybe I can prove myself I'm better," He murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Everyone likes me better when I'm in their good favor or when I'm not even fucking there."

"What do you expect, Canada? You're always so quiet, leaving before anyone can talk to you." Aus mumbled, rubbing his numb shoulder.

"And is that my fucking fault? Is everyone so goddamn lazy to walk a little faster or a little longer to catch up with me?"

America hobbled up to him to stand face to face, momentarily surprised at the sore feeling in his legs before smirking at his older brother. "Ain't no one like you, Can-man. Too quiet to talk to, too angry to take care of."

"I'm a fucking junkie because of you." He hissed with such hate, such contempt, it made you tear up. Fucking Noah all over again. It unnerved you to no end, the sporadic movement making you take small steps back. "Do you know how many times I'm forgotten? Left to rot as if I am nothing more than a butchered deer?"

"Because you don't know how to keep up the good little Bambi facade for too long. You have antlers. And you use them for stabbing people."

"Don't make me have to put you in your place again." He unsteadily whispered, hands clenching once more preparing himself for a brawl.