I don't own Hetalia.

Canada walked slowly through the hall, his chin down, his eyes glued to the floor. Kumajirou wasn't with him—he didn't need to bring that bear everywhere, he wasn't a child—and he unconsciously wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged his chest.

'Agh! I should have told those hosers off!' He thought angrily.

He had gone over to Denmark during the meeting to talk to him about their relations, but he was too busy talking to Norway to even pay attention to him!

'What was it he said?'Canada raged inwardly. 'I have more important things to do with than talk to you— sorry, Canada!'

He walked over to a supply closet and closed his eyes, sliding against the door.

No one would see him—only the janitor came into this hallway, and the janitor didn't pay attention to Canada. Well, he didn't pay attention to anyone, really, but he paid attention to Canada even less.

"Hey, what's-your-face, this is my supply closet."

Canada's eyes snapped open. "What?"

A man who was definantly not the janitor looked down on him. "You heard me."

"I, uh," Canada stammered, "...Didn't know people could have supply closets to themselves."

The man blushed and put his hand on the back of his white-haired head. "Uh...not just to myself!"

"Really? You look pretty...by yourself."

"What? No! My friends just aren't here yet!" The pale stranger replied desperately.

Canada got up slowly. "Oh. Um, I should probably...go then, eh?"

He looked down at the other man, and red eyes stared back at him. He than smiled politely and began to walk away.

"Wait!"

Canada turned around to face the man. "Yes?"

"Well, ah, you can stay here! In my awesome company!" His new companion blurted.

Canada hesitated. "What about your friends?"

"Oh! My friends...they, uh, couldn't make it!"

"Okay, if you say so..." Canada said, biting his lip. "...uh...you?"

"Uh, my name's Prussia, but you can call me Gilbert if you want. Haven't you heard of me?"

"Oh. OH! Yes, in World War Tw—" Canada started. "Ah. Um. Sorry."

"Sorry, don't really remember you." Prussia said.

Canada rubbed his arm awkwardly. "I guess I'm not very memorable, eh?"

"What's your name? I've never met you, but maybe I've heard of you."

"I—"

"I mean, you've never met me, and you've probably heard about my awesome deeds!"

"I'm—"

"Seriously though, you have a really unmemorable face..."

"I'm Canada!"

Prussia's mouth dropped open. "You? You're Canada?"

"...Yes? Why, is there something wrong?"

"No, it's just...I kind've expected you to look more...strong." Prussia mumbled.

"Eh?!"

Prussia shrugged. "Well, when West came home with the crap beat out of him, I really imagined the guy who did it as a bit more impressive than...you."

"Thanks." Canada deadpanned.

The albino laughed nervously. "Uh...yeah."

They stood in an awkward silence that was broken by a little "Nyo~!"

A small yellow canary settled down atop his master's white hair and gave another little peep.

"Ah! Gilbird!" Prussia exclaimed.

Canada gave a small, quiet laugh. "You named your canary Gilbird?"

"It's an awesome name for an awesome bird!" Prussia defended.

Canada laughed and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Prussia smiled. "So, uh, do you want to get lunch, Canada?"

"Yeah, sure. And, Gilbert?"

"Ja?"

"You can call me Matthew."