Depressed Hetalia/Worst Nightmares

Happy Canada Day...

Matthew sat in his bedroom and sighed. Nobody had called, texted, anything. It was July 1st, 11:45pm. Nobody had remembered. There'd been a world meeting that Matthew had went to, he sat at the back and listened to everyone, and nobody had said a word about him. At one point, he'd said out loud, "happy Canada Day to me..." and had anyone heard? No, they were too busy celebrating Hong Kong.
Matthew slid down against his wall. Surely Alfred had remembered, right? Yes, of course he did. Matthew dialed Alfred's number, and the excited American picked up. "YO, HOW CAN I HELP YOU, YOU HAVE REACHED THE U. S. OF A! I CANT REALLY TALK FOR LONG!"
"Alfred? It's...it's Matthew....Canada..." Matthew could hear a party going on in the background,
"Wait who? Sorry dude, you must have the wrong number, I'm at a party for Hong Kong right now!!" Then he hung up.
Matthew threw his phone at a wall and curled up in a corner, then silently burst into tears. Not even Alfred remembered, his own brother. He was too busy partying for a country that wasn't even half of Canada's size. This year was worst than last year's, where he'd had to remind everyone, but everyone's memories were jogged quickly and they had cake at the world meeting. This year was the end.
Shakily, Matthew crawled to his desk drawer and opened it, revealing a shiny knife that was spotted with faded bloodstains. "O-old friend....it's been so long...." Matthew whispered, as 11:59 turned to 12:00am.
He did not show up for the world meeting the next day. Not like anybody noticed, or cared. No, Matthew was ensconced in his bedroom, lying on his floor, with HAPPY CANADA DAY TO ME written on his wall in crimson, dripping letters.
His knife no longer carried faded bloodstains.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2P CANADA'S POV

Matt stretched as he woke up, expecting numerous calls from his friends to wish him a happy Canada Day. "If they f*cking don't..." He growled to himself, glancing at his pride and joy, a hockey stick with a curved blade fitted to the end. Matt walked downstairs, grabbed a breakfast beer and a stack of pancakes, then sat down and swallowed them all nearly whole. Surprisingly, there was no world meetings today, which was weird, since there usually was a world meeting on Canada Day that turned into a party. He brushed it off. He didn't need a party every year, he was okay with his friends and family remembering.

Morning turned into afternoon, and still no phone calls. "That's okay...maybe they aren't even awake yet. Different time zones and shit," Matt muttered, finishing off another six-pack of beer. Everything would be fine. They'd remember, they always did. He made sure of it.

Afternoon turned into evening, and still nothing. Matt decided to give a few people the what-for. Dialing Oliver's number, he had to hold the phone away as a squealy voice answered. "Why hello poppet, thank you dearly for calling and unfortunately I can't get to the phone right now. Leave a message at the beep! BEEEEEEEP!"

S'okay, he was probably baking. He was in the zone when he was baking. No phone calls, no texts, he didn't even respond to Allen yelling at him. Nobody disturbed him...right, he was only baking. He decided to call up his dad. Dialing up 2p France's number, again he got, "Sorry I can't take your f*cking call. It'd be great if you didn't call again. Don't hesitate to not leave a message."

After the beep, Matt hissed into the phone. "Uh, hey, it's my birthday, didn't you know that? Not even a f*cking call? Thanks, dad. Happy birthday to me. Bet you would remember Al's birthday in a split second." Matt hung up, and threw his phone at a wall so hard it put a hole through it and the phone smashed. Shit, he wanted to call Al to see if he remembered. Matt didn't have to worry about that...Al always remembered...

Knowing Al, he was probably either sleeping or on a date with some girl he'd met this morning, and wouldn't be home till later. That was okay, Matt could wait.

By 11:30 at night, he'd had enough. He picked up his cellphone, which hadn't yet been thrown into a wall or broken in half, and dialed Al's number. He picked up instantly. "Who's calling and what do you f*cking want? I'm at a party." He answered, clearly pissed off.

"What? It's Matt...your brother....who's party are you at?"

"Are you high or something? No, I'm high...I don't have a brother." Al snarled. "I'm at Hong Kong's party. Whoever you are, you should be here. Oliver's drunk and we're all pissing in his cupcake batter while he's throwing up. Anyway, drunk guy with a f*cked accent, get over here!" Then he hung up.

Matt stared at his phone. Everyone was at Hong Kong's party...? That had hit him hard. Not even Allen remembered. He always ended up remembering....that's what brothers do...

Matt couldn't do anything anymore. Crashing the party was just useless, no one would even know who he was anyway. He'd called all his family...and he didn't have many friends. For the first time since he was a child (8 years old to be exact, some ass had beaten Allen up and ran away before Matt could catch him), Matt put his head down and cried softly into his knees. Not even his own f*cking brother remembered. That....that crossed a line that hadn't been crossed in a very long time.

He glanced up at his hockey stick. He'd once tried to slit his throat with it, many Canada days ago when he'd thought everyone had forgotten, but it turned out that they were hiding a surprise party. No, there was no surprises here. They were all at Hong Kong's stupid party. Usually they did joint parties, or had Hong Kong's earlier and Canada's at night. Not this year. No, this year there was no Canada Day. This year there wasn't any Matt, either.

Standing up on his bed, which seemed rock hard now, he grabbed his stick off the wall. He stepped back down onto the floor and swallowed. He felt like he was in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. "Happy...f*cking....Canada...Day..." He whispered, raising the cold curved blade to his throat.

And then, there wasn't any Matt.