Chapter 3: I don't know...

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 "America? GET OUT HERE YOU BLOODY WANKER!" England yelled. "What did you do this time?!" Canada asked America. He shrugged. "Not my problem." "The only thing that's holding me back from punching you is hurting myself." Canada snapped. He stomped over to the door. "What is it?! I'm tired so make this quick!" Canada angrily yelled. You might think Canada is nice and calm, but when he's mad it like GET OUT MA WAY. IMMA KICK YOU OUTTA YO HOUSE. Mad.

 England stared into Canada's eyes. "Why do you have purple eyes?" England asked. Canada sweat dropped. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Canada mumbled. "Oh, and good job at falling asleep at the meeting you burger eating fool." England continued. Now, Canada was struggling to hold back tears. He had been noticed, but in the worst possible way. "I-I'm not America." He whispered. England stopped talking. He looked at him. "What's that you bloody Git?" He asked. "I said I'm not America!" Canada said, voice now average volume. England burst out laughing. "PFFFFTT, stop it!  You're making my sides hurt." Canada walked out of the room, grabbed America, and walked back. "He has blue eyes. I woke up as America and he woke up as me." Canada said. England looked deeply into his eyes. "Eh, fine. But remember that one time I told you to make up a sentence and say it to me? Tell me your sentences."  America looked up at the ceiling. "Wasn't mine, like, 'I'm the hero, bald eagles, 'Murica?'" America said. England face palmed. "Yes, America it was." He turned to Canada. "What was your sentence, 'Matthew'?" Canada looked down at the floor. "'I'm not America, I'm Canada, please remember me.'" Canada looked pretty sad right now. Like, so sad he could make Russia cry. Or Germany give him a hug. A silent tear rolled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away. "Yes, thats what yours was." England whispered, barely audible.

  "So, what did you remember from yesterday? Did you steal any books from me, America?!" England's left eye twitched, looking at America in Canada's body. "No, I didn't. I passed out on my bed while watching a movie." America said. "Well, I think it was my fault, actually."  Canada spoke up. The other two looked at him. "I wished last night that people would stop ignoring me, and at least get my name right, when they do notice me. I'm not America. I'm Canada. Everyone says what a great country Alfred is, how free it is, how rich he is, and so much better than the country whose name they can't even remember. I'm the second largest country in the world, dammit, and I don't even get recognized! Sometimes I wonder, if I died, would people even know I'm gone? Probably not, since you can't miss something you can't see. I just wanted someone who cares about me, and at least who knows who I am." His fists were clenched at his side, his head facing the floor, tears pricking his eyes, threatening to fall. "Mattie..." America began. But Canada didn't hear him. He was running away from America's house. He wanted to be alone. He didn't even bring Kumajiro.



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