I Don't Believe It's There: PruCan

World Meeting

Canada's (Matthew's) POV

"Why are you talking to me?" America hissed.

"Listen, I wanted to apologize." I say, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.

"Like hell I'll listen! I didn't ask for an apology!"

"Please... Let's at least talk about it." I tried getting through to him.

"And I want to throw 'a-boot' at your face," He insulted, noting the pronunciation of my words, and turned his back to me. "Leave me alone."

I gritted my teeth. He almost made me change my mind. But I knew damn well I couldn't leave my relationship with my brother like this. Not again. "I'm really sorry about calling you an idiot... and telling you England doesn't like you. I know that-"

"Don't even say his name," America said through clenched teeth. "I know I can be loud and obnoxious, but when you say it too, it... it really makes me feel like he does hate me."

"No, that's not the case," I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure England cares a lot about you."

America shrugged off my arm and clenched his fist. "Don't..." He swung around and grabbed my shirt, raising a fist. "Don't lie!"

"I'm not lying. Why else does he still stick around," I tried my best to remain my composure.

"I'm a bur-burden on him, that's why," the tone of his voice and the way he was getting his words out was sending an alarming feeling throughout my chest. His grip softened and he lowered his fist. He was shaking and after I felt drops of wetness seep through the sleeve of my jacket, I realized he was crying. "He's s-stuck with me. A burden."

I threw my arms around him, sadness welling up in my heart, "Don't cry or- or else... I'll cry too!" Tears escaped my eyes and America held onto my jacket tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. I patted his back, trying my best to comfort him.

"Sometime I feel like the wo-world would be better if I wasn't around." America weeped.

I grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, his glasses fogged up from the warmth of his tears. I didn't care if I was embarrassed for crying, I wasn't going to let him think like that. "Don't you ever say that, Alfred. You're the best company I could have around: even if we do fight sometimes. And you're not a burden to England. France told me the way his eyes lit up when he sees or talks about you, so don't ever think you're a burden!"

More tears filled his eyes. "Matthew..." He embraced me, "You're the best brother I could ever have!"

Suddenly, the door opened for Japan to walk in, a jet black haired, coffee eyed, Japanese man. He saw us, puffy and red eyed, tear stains down our cheeks, glasses opaque. His eye's darted between us and I could've sworn he whispered 'yaoi'. He then silently closed the door, like he saw nothing.

Me and America looked at each other. "Shit," America swore.

"Yeah, meeting is going to start soon," I mumbled.

We let go of each other and cleaned our glasses. We were in the break room, so we washed our faces and tried our best to recover from the crying.

"I really am sorry," I said again, making sure he knew.

"I know, Mattie." He simply said.

It's been a long time since I've seen America cry. The last time would've been when we were still young countries and I popped his special football he got from England. So it scared me when I saw the tears spilling; his face is probably imbedded in Japan's mind for the rest of his life.