Needy Child

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, nor do I get any profit for writing this. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. The fanart is from cioccolatodorima (cioccolatodorima.tumblr.com).

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Chapter Three

America couldn't sleep.

He tossed and turned on the bed, tangling all the sheets around his legs, and he had tried about every position he could think of, but no matter what he did he couldn't fall asleep.

Each time he tried to close his eyes, the picture of Canada's ghostly pale, lax features as his small body slowly drifted to the bottom of the river kept popping up in his mind, as if it had been forever impressed in the back of his eyelids.

America had never been that scared in his whole life. He had realized that something was horribly wrong as soon as he had seen how frantic Kumajiro was – it wasn't typical of the cub to fuss over anything – and when he had been explained the situation... America didn't think he had ever been that close to fainting. For a moment, his vision had turned grey and he had felt his legs go weak, but he had quickly recovered, given the urgency.

When America had spotted Canada's lifeless body in the stream, it was like time had stopped. He had felt the blood pound in his ears, covering even the roaring of the water, as he had looked at the child's waxen skin, his closed eyes, unmoving limbs, the way his strawberry blond hair framed his head like a halo, fluttering in the water.

For a moment, America had thought Canada was dead.

England had told him that nations and colonies would revive if they died in accidents like that, as far as the older nation knew (that wasn't as much as America had used to think, he was starting to realize) they could only truly die at the hand of other nations, but he had also told him what a nightmarish experience coming back to life was, how he wouldn't wish it to his worst enemy.

With those words in mind, America had been so relieved when he had realized that Canada was out of danger... and so utterly spent and his mind so clouded by the powerful emotions that his relief had quickly turned into anger at his little brother's words.

America wasn't proud of what he had done then. Yes, Canada's actions had been stupid and careless, but the child had to be even more scared than he was, he should have comforted him and stayed by his side, and only after they were warm and dried up confronted him about the accident. Instead, America had been so overcome by a mixture of relief, concern and rage that his body had acted before he could even realize what he was doing, and he had slapped Canada's hand. He had hurt his little brother and yelled at him.

America would be eternally gratefully at Kumajiro for showing up when he had, he didn't know what he could have done otherwise. He had been so scared... but that wasn't a valid excuse, and he knew it. He was almost an adult, and it was high time for him to start behaving like one.

Recognizing that and his lack of control, he had left Canada in Jane's care, he had known the woman for a long time and she was capable and tender, but now he regretted it. He would have expected to see Canada at supper, so he could apologize to him, but Jane had told him that the child had dined earlier and was already sleeping, exhausted from the day.

America had still checked on him, but Canada had been either truly asleep or pretending to, he couldn't tell. In truth, he wouldn't have blamed his little brother for not wanting to talk to him, he had been awful. The guilt was eating at his mind, keeping him awake along with the memories of the nightmarish event.