(A.N.- This chapter... is brought to you by a friend who is telling me to post. Most chapters will not be up this quickly as school is a global disease and homework is a side affect. But here it is! And there is a cliff hanger. Muahah. Enjoy!)
At the end of the four hour long meeting, the only thing that had been accomplished was a few bruises between America, England, and France and absolute boredom for the other countries. The only amusement had been when Italy had fallen asleep and fallen over into Germany's lap. The German hadn't had the heart to wake him and the Italian was still sleeping there, now fully in the other's lap with his head resting on Germany's shoulder. Germany's face still held traces of the bright crimson it had been before. Prussia had pictures of this of course. Romano had had to be taken out of the meeting by Spain, swearing in his native language the whole way at the 'potato bastard'.
Now that the meeting was over, Mathew Williams realized he really should find out where he was staying. It was around 6 P.M. now and already dark outside, as it was the middle of December. He stood and set a sleeping Kuma down onto the chair, knowing the bear wouldn't wake for a while. Looking around at the sea of nations flowing towards the door he couldn't spot Russia or his brother. In fact, as he called out for the later, the last nation, Estonia, left and turned the light off. He sighed, left alone with his bear in a dark, empty conference room. Typical. He should write a book about his troubles.
Turning around towards the rectangular wooden table to collect his pet, something sparkled in is peripheral vision. Curious, he looked closer. It was a set of keys. They looked like they belonged to a hotel or something of the like. Checking the tag attached to the keys, he wasn't too surprised to find they belonged to the same hotel as the one that we were staying at. Someone must have forgotten them. Scooping up the 250 pound polar bear in one arm (he wasn't weak you know) he hurried for the door of the room, hoping to catch a cab soon so the person wouldn't have to wait for long.
Of course it was raining. Of course there wasn't one fucking cab in all of D.C. here to bring him to the hotel. Scratch that, there were a few cabs; they just failed to notice him. After around thirty minutes of trying (and failing) to hail one of the yellow vehicles he gave up and began walking. It was around four and a half miles and he knew the way, so he sucked it up and began the rather short journey.
He only had on his favorite red maple leaf sweatshirt with a thin white tee-shirt under it, blue jeans, and red converse so he was soaked quickly and thoroughly. Kumajiro was tucked into his sweatshirt with his head poking out of the collar. Canada didn't know what he would do if his bear got sick but he couldn't do much else. If anything, Matthew himself was warmer because of the bear's body heat. His hair was dripping and sticking to his face. The once dry socks now squelched with each step he took. He hadn't bothered to put his hood up, knowing from the start that it would be useless. The key was safely in his jeans pocket, and his hands under his sweatshirt, buried in his polar bear's fur to keep warm.
There wasn't anyone on the streets of America's capital, Washington D.C., but he knew he was a pitiful sight. It was a good thing that he couldn't get sick because he would surely catch a cold if he could. After about a mile, he was shivering and doing his best to keep his teeth from chattering. At around two and a half miles, it began raining harder and the whispers of thunder could he heard in the distance. Canada picked up his pace to a jog (which annoyed Kumajiro who was bounced around at this pace). He had never liked the loud rain with its destructive lightning and defeating thunder. He firmly told himself it wasn't because he had been terrified of the thunder when he was little. He had hated the strange, loud noise that followed rain. France had always comforted him though. It felt nice to remember those times when he was loved, safe, remembered. He recalled one specific night, only days after he had become France's colony….
The rain was pouring all its fury towards breaking the glass bedroom window, only barely failing in its quest. A little ball was shivering under a thick satin comforter, trying to bury its way away from the angry rain. Canada held Kumajiro close, burying his face into thick fur. The bear was roughly his size and was doing its best to comfort the boy, licking his face and rumbling away.
The first strike of lightning was missed by the boy who had his head covered and eyes closed, but it would have been impossible to miss the thunder. It roared through the land, through the house, through a very young Canada, scaring him to the core. He gripped his friend painfully tight as a terrified scream tore past his quivering lips. He was crying by the time papa burst through the door, just in time for another crash of the monstrous noise. Whimpering, he didn't see the blonde figure let out a breath of relief, scared something had happened to his little Mathieu. He walked towards the shivering lump, he heard the bear that the boy insisted on keeping with him at all times growl in warning. Mattie's head poked out from under the pile of blankets. His watery light violet eyes brightened as he saw the outline of what could only be his papa. "Papa!" he cried out in joy, throwing the covers off of him and letting Kumajiro go (the half-strangled bear was thankful for this) and running to France.
The French nation smiled as he felt tiny, but strong, arms wrap around his leg. He rested his hand on top of the young boy's head. "Shhh, Matthew. You're fine. It's just some thunder," He mumbled calmingly, picking the boy up. Gently, he put the boy back to bed, sitting on the edge. The bear came and burrowed his way into Canada's side, while a soothing French lullaby guided him to sleep, the reassuring weight of his papa's hand never leaving his head.
Shaking his mind out of the memories, he sighed happily despite the fact that he couldn't feel his toes. He really did miss his papa, England, Alfred, everyone. Maybe he would admit to being lonely if he thought he could change anything. Now the nation who had loved him, raised him, and sung him to sleep hardly remembered him most of the time.
Checking the street signs, Matthew realized he was close to where the hotel was located. The rain hadn't let up at all, and showed no intention of stopping. Canada couldn't even bring himself to care. Finally glimpsing the light flashing the name of his destination, he was incredibly relieved.
Entering the hotel he dug Kumajiro out of his sweatshirt and set him down. The bear promptly shook himself and got the entire two foot radius wet. The look he shot the desk attendant dared her to comment. He pulled the key from his pocket and headed up the stairs. The key claimed to belong to room 103 on the third floor so that's where he was headed. Pulling out his phone (which he had thankfully managed to keep dry somehow) he checked the time and blinked in surprise. It was 7:18 P.M. already. He hoped whoever had left the keys had a spare. Finding himself standing in front of the room with Kumajiro by his side he paused for a second. Politely he knocked at first. Earning no response, he knocked again. With the same result he put the key into the lock praying that he wouldn't walk in and create and awkward scene.
Turning the key and twisting the door open, he was greeted to a dark room. Opening the door a little wider he took a step into the room, squinting. Maybe the room was vacant and he would-
Any thoughts were cut off by a well swung water pipe to the side of his head.
