"So I hit the guy in the gut, right-"

"Al, I have no idea what you're-"

"And Arthur's trying to tell me that was a stupid thing to do! Stupid old man-"

"Alfred-"

"-Doesn't understand a thing. I mean-"

"No seriously, Alfred-"

"-This guy's got-"

"Slow down!"

"-A knife to my throat, right?" Finally, the darker haired blonde took a stop for breath. Matthew took this as his chance to butt in.

"Alfred, please don't talk so fast, I can't keep up with you. Say it slower." He deadpanned at the exasperated look his brother sent him. Really, Alfred was the one feeling exasperated right now?

"Ok, so I'm fighting this member from the Axis. You following me still?" It was Matt's turn to deadpan. He nodded dejectedly at his brother, who then continued. "The guy brings a knife to my throat. And Arthur's trying to tell me I shouldn't fight him off, and instead try to reason with him."

Matt thought slowly on this. He'd been in the same predicament only last night, and he imagined that if he had tried to push the red-eyed man away, things would only end worse. Bad thought. He did his best to surpress the shudder attempting to force it's way down his body. "Al," he started, "maybe Arthur's right."

Alfred seemed appalled. "What?" Scratch that, he was appalled. "You're siding with caterpillar brows? He's trying to ground me! I'm too old to be grounded - and I'm the leader here!"

Matt took a deep breath, because really, trying to reason with his brother was like trying to reason with a rock. "Well, maybe you deserve it." His brother was about to retort, but Matthew continued again quickly, "I mean, you did overreact yesterday."

"But they were trying to touch-"

"No, Al." Matt caught the gaze of his brother, staring him down with the utmost amount of seriousness. "It doesn't matter. He's not one of our own."

"I don't give a crap!" Alfred yelled this, and Matthew winced. Why did his brother insist on being so loud? "You think we can just let those damn Axis get away with new recruits?"

"It's not our business what the Axis do, Al." Seriously, why was he still trying? "We should be avoiding fights with them, not starting them!"

When Alfred pulled out his pouting face, Matt gave up on reasoning. If he looked into that face, he'd lose the fight. He wasn't about to let himself lose the fight. So he left it at that, spinning around on his heels and stomping out the bedroom door.

Once he'd made sure the front door was locked, (his brother insisted it- it didn't matter how tough Al could be, he was still afraid of ghosts), his feet automatically led him down the steps of the front porch, and into the direction of the beach. He sighed, and walked for a couple of minutes in silence. Really, Al was so incompetent. The idiot had almost died yesterday, and, now that he thought about it, almost got Matt himself killed yesterday as well. He remembered the look of shock that had passed through the crimson eyes the second they had met with his own purple ones, and he remembered the same knife Alfred had mentioned at his throat. The red eyed man had even said 'I can still kill you' as if he wasn't supposed to be. It only made sense that he'd thought Matt was someone else. And really, people confused him for Alfred all the time. They weren't even twins!

After resurfacing from the drowning of these thoughts, Matt realized how much headway he'd made towards the beach. The air smelled saltier, and it stung his eyes a little bit more with each step he took. He could hear the rhythm of the waves pounding on the beach, and he felt his shoulders relax. Waves were always the most soothing sound for frayed nerves. He closed his eyes, listening to the harmonic sounds of the waves slapping sand, driftwood, seaweed, and his argument with Alfred seemed as insignificant as the dust in his eyelashes...

Soon he was walking with sand under his feet. It was a slightly cloudy day, and the sun was currently covered by a puffy spot of water vapor. This relieved Matt- his light skin burned rather easily. He was a lot more used to the cold, and even after a year of living here he still wasn't used to this beach. Something else relieved him too- the cloudiness had left the strand relatively uncrowded. Matthew didn't like crowds.

He breathed in deeply and selected his favorite spot right beside a patch of tall grass. It was near the back of the area, so he wasn't hit by the spray of the ocean. He set himself down on the soft sand, scanning the beach for something to entertain himself with.

He found his target quickly. A silver haired man was not too far off, throwing out bits of his lunch to some ravenous seagulls. He had a sharp cut face, thin yet handsome, and the silver mess atop his head jutted out in random directions. The expression his his face was one telling, 'I can jump off a bridge and not think about what I'd done until I've hit the bottom'. The current setting satisfied the guy, and his lips quirked upwards when one of the gulls caught some bread in it's mouth before it had even touched the ground. The other gulls squawked loudly at this.

The more Matthew stared, the more he realized how odd the man looked. Most of his body was covered, wearing pants and a hoodie, (Matthew found this strange, it was probably higher than 85 degrees outside) and the few parts that were exposed showed deathly pale skin, even paler that Matthew's own. So the man was albino?

Matt got to his feet and approached the newly-discovered albino. Once he was within accurate distance, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

When he turned around, Matthew couldn't stop the gasp. Red eyes scruitinized him slowly. Oh no, Matthew thought, I'm dead. Goodbye Alfred, I'm sorry I made you cry all those times...

However, when the albino did nothing (rather than continue to stare), Matt brought himself to a tentative realization. Maybe... it's not the same guy. I'm sure there are several red eyed men in this city... and he's not wearing the Axis badge... and anyone who feeds birds can't belong to a gang... He was reminded rather obnoxiously of himself.

"Um... d-do I... know you from anywhere?" The blonde asked quietly. He flinched when the man turned the rest of his body to face Matthew fully.

"I..." The man tilted his head to the side, and Matt thought that maybe a small bit of recognition was trying to be hidden. "Maybe?"

A tuft of yellow suddenly popped out of the man's head, and Matthew couldn't stop his giggles. "Y-you've got a bird on your head, eh." He stated once he could breathe. Said bird chirped loudly and stretched it's wings, before prodding silver hair with it's feet.

The albino brightened, bringing his hands to his head and scooping the bird up. "Oh, that's just Gilbird!" He said, "He's my awesome pet. Almost as awesome as I am. He's named after me, of course. I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Matthew giggled again, his short exhales high and musical. "Narcisistical, are we?" The man smirked. "I'm Matthew Williams." He continued, holding out his hand to Gilbert.

"Awesome." Did the man not have any other adjectives in his arsenal? "I'll call you Mattie." Gilbert then shifted Gilbird over to one hand, and bent down to tear off a small peice of his bread. He put it in Matthew's already outstretched hand. "Here, you can feed him." Matt took it giddily, and placed the crumb in the canary's face. It pecked softly at his hand, and the wavy haired kid smiled. Gilbert smiled back.

They then proceeded to sit down, chatting about life in general. Every once in a while, Gilbert would hand Matt a small peice of the sandwhich he was eating, and Matt would break it up and toss it out. Matt had to admit, Gilbert was a very interesting person. He had much to say about his life - cities he'd lived in, people he'd met, pictures he'd took. The blonde couldn't think of a single thing he'd done that could even compare to Gilbert's life of excitement.

Finally, some time later when the sun was climbing downards, Gilbert spoke up again. "You know, I think I do remember you from somewhere."

Matthew froze. "Y-you do?"

Gilbert rose an eyebrow at him. "Uh...", he was thinking for a second, "yeah. I think we were kids together way back when."

After overcoming the shock of the situation, Matthew found himself giggling. He didn't know why Gilbert was making him giggle so much. Maybe it was because the silver messy hair was it's own bird's nest. "Well yeah, of course we were, eh." He said with a roll of his eyes.

Gilbert laughed. Matthew found that he liked hearing Gilbert laugh. "No, I mean like... friends."

"Oh." Matthew said airly, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. It didn't really matter if they were friends in the past.

But Gilbert continued: "I hope," he paused, "if we meet again... it's not under the wrong circumstances."

AN:// BAM, and just like that, the plot starts. By the way, Matt and Alfred's conversation is supposed to be confusing. Blah, making long chapters is not something I'm good at, I'm sorry but they'll all probably be this short, maybe shorter. I even revised this after I posted chapter 1, trying to make it longer. I succeeded in maybe... 4 or 5 lines? Ack. So anyways, please review please! And no, I did not just type please twice. Or rather, 3 times. Oh, and I forgot this last chapter: Disclaimer: Hetalia was not, and never will be, mine. Sadly. DX