Changes

Chapter One

Pushing strands of his hair back behind his ear and taking in deep, calming breaths, Canada walked down the hall to the conference room with his head down and worry racing through his mind. They’re all going to hate it, he thought to himself as he got closer. Maybe I should just go home and say I got sick. Or just leave now and not give them any notice. No, they’ll worry about--

“Hey, Mattie!” a familiar voice shouted from down the hallway, interrupting his previous thoughts. Oh no! “Hi, Alfred,” Canada quietly said back, waiting for his response. “Dude, I was just--what happened to your hair?” I knew it, he hates it!

“Dude, is that a tattoo? And are you wearing contacts?” America asked, now standing just a couple feet away from the Canadian. Rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his gaze to the floor, Canada quietly responded, “I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it might be a little much.”

Just as America opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by two others suddenly joining in on their conversation. “Canada, is that you, mon ami?” asked France as his pace quickened to get over to his friend’s side. “It is!” he exclaimed, smiling a bit.

Before Canada could really respond, France had untucked his hair from behind his ears and promptly began to examine it. “I like the cut. Ohonhonhon, and the red really brings out your eyes.” Pulling away, Canada let his red streaked bangs fall into his eyes and he quickly muttered, “Thanks.”

“Leave him alone, frog,” Britain said pushing France out of the way. Glancing over at Canada, the Brit quickly said, “Nice maple leaf tattoo” and left it at that. Reaching up and gingerly touching the still new ink marking below where his neck and jawline met, Canada once again muttered a “Thanks.”

“Speaking of which,” America said, digging through one of his pockets, looking for something. Suddenly finding it, he whipped it out and loudly announced, “I’m about to save you from a life-time of humiliation!” Before Alfred could slap an American flag on top of the maple leaf, Canada already had his hand in the way and was muttering, “Do we have to go through this again?”

“What do you--”

Quickly changing the subject, France asked, “So mon ami, what inspired you to change your look?”

How do I tell them about everyone confusing me with America? Canada thought as he started to panic a bit even though it wasn’t the first time he was forced to answer that same question that week.

“So what inspired you to get this, uh, style?” the hairdresser asked as she carefully cut off tendrils of his wavy blond hair. It wasn’t being cut extremely short, about three inches were being took off so it was still a noticeable difference.

“I have my reasons,” Canada said for the second time that week.

“Did you recently breakup with someone or is it something else?”

“No, no. Not that. It’s just... Sorry for bothering you with this, but people just keep confusing me with my brother and...nevermind. I’ll quit distracting you.”

“You’re not distracting me. I like talking to people. Plus I understand what it’s like having a brother. They’re super annoying sometimes.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Canada whispered, staring at his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Like what?” America asked suddenly, looking at his brother.

“Nothing,” Canada whispered, moving further down the hall towards the conference room. “Well, it’s obviously not,” England said, walking behind him with America and France following along as well. Putting a hand on Canada’s shoulder, France calmly said, “You can tell us.”

“It’s nothing,” Canada said again.

“Dude, it’s no big deal. Just tell us,” America said somewhere behind him. It’s no big deal getting beat up because other countries confuse you with me. It’s not big deal getting insulted because of you. It’s really no big deal, he thought bitterly, stopping and turning to face the three of them in front of the conference room door.

“Maybe it’s because I wanted people to stop confusing me with you,” he finally snapped at America, before spinning around on his heels and walking into the conference room.