The Dark And Hollow Pastas

Chapter Nine

After a few hours of reading, Britain started to worry about the country sleeping upstairs.
He hadn't come down despite the obnoxiously loud noises his twin was making in the kitchen.
The emerald eyed Brit made his way up the stairs and knocked lightly on Canada's bedroom door.
"Are you alright in there?"
When he didn't get an answer, he pushed into the room as quietly as he could.
Canada was lying horizontally across his bed, his back to the door and his blankets underneath him.
Britain rounded the bed, smiling at the way the northern country's fist was curled up against his mouth. No wonder Francis liked him so much. He really was a sweet sleeper, unlike America who just spread himself out and drooled over everything.
Canada let out a tiny sniffle. He had been crying.
"Poor little guy." England knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair out of the boy's eyes.
Canada whimpered and moved his hand away from his face.
"Oh my lord." Britain gasped.
A trail of red was flowing out of the corner of his mouth, landing on the red and white bedspread.
"Canada? Are you alright?" he shook the blonde, heart quickening in fear.
"How could ja not have ketsup chips?" He mumbled sleepily.
"Canada! Wake up!"
"Mnm?" His eyes opened and he blinked up at the older country.
"Canada, you're bleeding." England snatched Canada's glasses off the nightstand and placed them in their owner's hands.
Matthew put them on before wiping his mouth off and gaping dumbly at the blood.
"Is it your country?"
"No. I don't think so." The light in his eyes was dim and tired like Greece's usually was.
"Then why were you coughing up blood?"
"I don't know, okay, b'y?" He groaned.
Britain sighed but replaced his frustrated expression with a calm smile.
"Your brother is here."
"Alfie? He's alive!" Canada wiped the remainder of the blood off on the inside of his sweater and jumped out of bed.