Sometimes We Fall

Chapter 1

Notes: I truly missed writing genfics, so I'm back with another short, fluffy story focusing on the ACE family, this time set while both America and Canada are still colonies.

I hope you'll enjoy this! And please review :)

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, and so does the cover picture. I don't get any profit from writing this.  

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Chapter One

The tree stood in front of the small colony, tall and majestic. The wide trunk told about all the winters it had withstood, and the ample branches gently descended until they almost touched the ground.

Perched upon one of those branches was the origin of Canada's woes, with his small legs carelessly dangling and his incredibly blue eyes bright with mirth.

"Come on Mattie, Follow me! It's easy, see?"

To offer a proof of his words, America's small hands grasped a higher branch as his body tensed. Canada's heart missed a beat – but his brother safely hoisted himself up before turning back to Canada, his lips curled into a confident smile.

"Mattie, come on!"

Canada pouted, his forehead furrowing as he wrung his small hands.

"But... Mr England said we shouldn't try to climb this tree, it's too big for us and it's not safe!" he protested, hating himself for how shaky and small his voice came out. America was never going to be swayed by something like that.

Predictably, America rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated puff.

"Your point? Artie's such a worrywart, he never lets us do anything... If it were for him, we'd be just stuck inside the house drawing or reading. Bo—ring! And he can't even see us now, he fell asleep because he's an old man!"

Canada bit his lower lip, uneasiness blossoming across his stomach at America's words and attitude. So much was wrong that he didn't even know where to start: first of all, England wasn't asleep because he was an old man. England had fallen asleep because he had withstood a long and exhausting journey only to be able to visit America and Canada. He had even played with them the entire morning, but for how much he was smiling, Canada had noticed the violet shadows under England's eyes, his pale and drawn skin. England deserved his rest... and seeing America disrespect him that way brought a sour taste to Canada's mouth. Couldn't his brother see how much England was doing for them? How disrespectful he was being, in belittling their older brother's tender concern the way he did?

The fact that England clearly favoured America made the anger boil hotter in Canada's chest. Why did his brother, who had everything, have to dismiss it that way? Canada wanted to yell at America until his brother opened his eyes and realized how blessed he was.

But in the end, as usual, the words died in Canada's throat in front of his brother's determined features. There was no way that Canada, small, meek Canada, could compete with America's boldness and vitality.

"If Mr England says that we shouldn't climb this tree, there is a reason," he said instead, his words so feeble that they barely carried over to America.

His brother heard them, however, and his features hardened in annoyance.

"You're such a bore, Mattie. Why do you have to be such a goody-two-shoes? It doesn't make you much fun to be around, y'know."

The remark stung, making Canada recoil, for he was aware of the shred of truth in America's words: Canada obeyed rules because it was the right thing to do, but... there was a small part of him, usually carefully repressed, holding onto the minute seed of hope that England would one day acknowledge his good behaviour. Canada didn't demand his caretaker's undivided attention, but one more smile or a moment tailored just for him even if America was present as well would have been the greatest gift Canada could ask for.