Canada has always been overlooked, ignored and forgotten- and called America. Canada, being Canada, was ok with that. But was he really? What would happen to Canada and the other countries if he decided he wouldn't be treated like that anymore?
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters. Credit goes to the original owners of Hetalia. The only thing I own is the plot and the text that contains it.
A/N: This is my first fanfic. I would love some constructive criticism! Also, plagiarizing is a federal crime. Do you really want to go to jail because of a story? I don't think so. Just don't do it! I really hope you enjoy this and thank you SO much for reading! Also, I apologize for the long note owo
Canada groaned as he flopped over to the other side of his surprisingly small bed. He had another World "Meeting" to go to- again. More times to be misunderstood and more times to be overlooked. It happened every time, but it really didn't matter to him. Just about fifteen minutes of hearing America in his 'hero voice' going on about a stupid plan, then some stupid argument between the countries would begin. This time it may be America and England, or possibly the Italy brothers fighting over who had the beset pasta recipe- again. Canada moaned as his alarm started beeping noisily. He lazily rolled out of bed (literally) onto the floor.
As Canada was gazing up at his plain tan ceilings, he traced the patterns of the rugged paint with his finger. When he finally rose back onto his feet, he groggily lumbered into his bathroom. His gaze flitted around. The shower was small, so was the sink and all the other appliances, but he was grateful nonetheless. All the appliances were bright white, while the walls were a vivant red- a huge change from his bland tan bedroom. Finally, he met his own gaze in the mirror. With a slight tilt of his head, he realized he really did look like America. Canada had the same hair and the same eyes. They were nearly identical! He shrugged and got ready with his tan suit and his equally tan hair. He had most of it tousled, but he had one strand that popped out and curled- just like he liked it.
Canada stepped out of the frame of his front door and squeezed his polar bear. He looked around at the white coated grass and birds' songs ringing in the distance of the place he called home. Finally, he was ready
I apologize for the lack of dialogue and possible interest. It'll get better, I promise! :D In the meantime, please favorite, follow, review, and/or rate! Any would be much appreciated. Thanks so much!