A/N: I am so, so, so sorry everyone! Not only was there a major lack in updates, which I'm hoping to fix, but I'm so unhappy with this chapter. The girl that helped me come up with the plot, Xkoon, insisted that I at least attempt to put some humor into the story so...The bar scene later on is as close to we're going to get for a while. And it's not so much humor as I left an empty spot where humopr could have been. I hope that some of you are still reading this and will still keep an eye out for future updates. Don't worry, they will come! I will never abandon a story!

"Well, Mattvey?" Canada squirmed underneath of Russia's gaze, not really sure whether the smile was a good thing or not. It was always so hard to tell with the other Northern Nation. Sometimes the smile could mean such awful things...

Wiping at his nose again, flakes of the dried blood rubbing off onto his hand when he did, Canada gave a shrug. "I'm fine, Russia. It was just a nose-bleed."

He'd had plenty worse than that before, including nose-bleeds of worse volumes; some where he lost so much blood he felt lightheaded and dizzy. Considering the events that brought it on him this time, events that those horrid newsreporters just slung around like it was nothing, he was actually pretty lucky.

The look on Russia's face was telling him that he should not feel so lucky.

"Nose-bleeds do not generally produce that much blood, Mattvey. Nor are they brought about by nothing." Russia stepped closer to the door as Canada moved over towards the sink and turned on the water. As the other Nation washed off his face, Russia was left watching in morbid fascination as the water ran red; dried clumps of blood standing out bright against the pure white sink.

Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth as he shut off the water, Canada glanced up into the mirror in front of him. He could still see the faintest tinge of red under both nostirls, though most of it had been washed off. And using the mirror, he could also make out the time; portrayed clearly on the front of his black cat clock.

7:24.

"O-oh no! I'm running late!" Canada exclaimed, pushing himself away from the sink as he did so. Of course he was late! He'd been sitting on that toilet for a good half an hour trying to get his nose to quit bleeding so he didn't know what he'd been expecting.

Roughly wiping his face off with the sleeve of his jersey, ignoring the sting it sent through his sore nose, Canada bolted foreward and squeezed through the door beside Russia. He could hear the other Nation teeter, spinning around and no doubt following him down the hall, but it wasn't until he actually made it to his front door that he stopped and looked at the other man.

The trip he was about to make was normally a solitary thing. It always held the hope that he hadn't been forgotten because his brother had accepted the invitation. Sometimes, America was even still there when Canada showed up, even if he didn't normally remember that the two had planned on meeting there. Still, leaving Russia was not just horrible manners, it was no doubt a horrible idea; he wanted his house intact when he got home, thank you very much.

"W-would you care to join me, Russia? I-I'm sorry that I c-can't stay but I've been p-planning this for a while." Three weeks, to be exact. Three weeks of planning and reminding and leaving sticky notes all over America's office so that the man didn't forget and now Canada himself was running late. And, oh, it just figured that this would happen now when he least wanted it too.

Russia blinked. "You are still going out? it would be smarter to sit in here and rest though, da?" That was just common sense, wasn't it? You didn't go running around after loosing so much blood, and clearly quite a bit had been lost. One could tell that by the massive stains spread across the living room walls.

Canada gave a small nod, one slightly shaking hand reaching out and grabbing a hold of the doorknob. "I have too. It's very important, R-russia. But, l-like I said, you're more than welcome to join me."

He didn't actually expect the pale-haired nation to agree. If anything, he was expecting Russia to snort and dissapear. Most likely for good this time. Instead, Russia grinned at him and nodded. "Then I will accompany you out, Mattvey, and when we get out you will answer my questions!"

And this time he would not forget about his Mattvey so quickly.

-0-0-0-0-

"I'm sorry that it's so crowded. I always forget that not everyone is used to having bars like this." Canada gave Russia an apologetic smile as they squeezed in between a group of jersey clad people.

In truth, the smaller of the two nations liked how crowded his bars became during hockey season. When he'd sit amongst them, sipping at a beer and cheering for whatever team was playing, it was like he wasn't completely alone anymore. The vibe that his people gave off when they were cheering on their team, it made him feel a little bigger. A little more seen, even when none of his people could recognize him for who he was; which was odd, almost unheard of, but something the Canuck chose not to dwell on.

Russia gave a grunt and a shrug as he followed Canada across the floor of the bar and over to the counter. It was far cleaner inside then the bars that Russia was used to frequenting, where everyone was a shadow and all the drinks were suspicious. The fact that it was more of a crowd didn't bother him.

The two made their way up to the counter where Mathew roughly shouldered his way onto a bar stool. The seat beside him was cleared almost immideatly as Russia joined him, one eyebrow raised down at Canada. Who was pointedly ignoring him for getting the attention of the bar-tender.

"Tom? Tom?" By the third call of the bar-tenders name, with not even a glance in their direction, Canada could feel a tinge of annoyance worm its way to the surface. He slapped his hand down on the counter, the motion stinging his hand. "Tom!"

With a start, the spindly man looked up from the cup he was cleaning. "Yes? What can I do for you?" Tom drawled.

A loud cheer shout up from the surrounding hockey-fans as a goal being made was shown on the dusty television in the corner of the bar. Canada leaned foreward, barely avoiding being decked by someone as they threw out their arms, so that Tom could hear him over the sudden ruckus. "I'm here to meet an Alfred F. Jones? He's, well, he looks like I do but a little taller. I'm running a little late though. He hasn't already left, has he?"

Tom blinked, large bug-like eyes looking Canada over. "Haven't seen no one that looks like you. No one named Alfred's been in here either. Sorry." With that, the elderly man turned his back on the duo.

Canada pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it, teeth scraping against soft flesh. "Are you sure? H-he was supposed to be here an hour ago..."

"Listen, kid." Tom snapped, not even bothering to turn around this time. "I said no one looking like that's shown up here. Now hush, can't you see there's a game going on?"

A game? Yes, Canada knew that there was a game going on. That was why America was supposed to have been there. The World Power had promised Canada that they would meet up and watch it together. It really shouldn't have surprised him that the other man hadn't shown up. Really, when did he ever?

"Alright then..." Canada sighed, eyes drooping, and waved at Tom with one hand. "Set us up for the night then, please."

Russia didn't think he could be more surprised when a large plate of poutine and two beers were set down beside him, one snatched up by Canada and chugged down in moments. At least, not until a second beer was in his hands and he'd leapt from his seat to shout with the rest of the customers in the bar.

-0-0-0-

"So, Mattvey, do you go out like that often?" Russia questioned. He tilted his head to the side and smiled down at the Canadian.

Canada froze, halfway in his front door. A slight blush spread across his cheeks, the heat creeping up the back of his neck and leaving a crimson trail. "N-no...Not very often."

Not to say that Canada didn't enjoy it. the buzz and energy of his people was infectious and he always found himself getting lost in the moment and cheering alongside them. It made him feel alive. Loved. Like he was known in his country; like a nation was supposed to feel all the time. Canada always reveled in it. It was the only thing that made up for America not showing up, for his near-twin never showing up.

Canada preferred not to think about his twin not showing up. There was probably a good reason for him not showing up, something to do with the American Government or maybe he'd gotten sick. With all the hamburgers he shoved into his mouth, that could have been the case. It was easier for the True North to pretend that was the case.

And, even though it was the same for every nation, Canada was still thoroughly embarrassed he'd lost himself around Russia. How uncouth could he be? "I'm really sorry I got so carried away, Ivan, and that you ended up accompanying me there. Y-you, did y-you need something from me earlier? I know that I h-had us r-rush out rather qu-quickly." His words were a soft mumble, light violet eyes still locked onto his feet.

"Da, actually. I remembered we never finished our conversation at the meeting and planned to fix that. We should go inside now to talk, da?" Russia's smile faltered slightly when Canada's head snapped up, eyes wide and disbelieving. What else was he expecting him to have shown up for?

"It's getting late, actually. And I thought we'd finished talking about it?" It wasn't said, but Canada was sure that Russia could hear the rest of that sentence; you left earlier, I finished talking about it on my own.

"Nyet. I merely got side-tracked. We should finish talking now though." Russia once more nodded towards the door that Canada was still blocking.

No, no, no! Canada bit down on his bottom lip and shook his head. "I d-don't think we should." And it hurt so much to say that. To tell the first person, nation or otherwise, that had been to his house just to talk about something in years to go away. It made what was left of the Northern Nations heart ache.

But it was for the best.

It was easier to just not say anything now over, in a few weeks, wanting to talk and not having Russia be interested anymore. Or, more likely and even worse, having Russia not even remember that they had the conversation. So Canada held his ground in front of the door and shook his head again. "Maybe you should head home?"

"I came all this way to finish talking with you, Mattvey. I would enjoy not leaving until I understand what you said earlier. It has been bothering me." At least, it had bothered Russia once he remembered it. And he really did feel bad for not coming to speak with Canada about it sooner. The smaller nation was just so easy to forget...

Later, Canada would get mad at himself for loosing his temper so easily. He would ask himself whether it was worth it, keeping it private and protecting himself from what would happen later instead of taking a few minutes of comfort and talking with someone. Whether he was just imagining the familiar red-tinge that had invaded his vision or was it really happening again? So soon?

But at the moment, he was content to loose himself and follow his instincts. Those, at least, had yet to betray him. "Why do you care?" The Canadian snapped, voice not raising but growing frosty all the same.

Russia blinked in surprise, brow furrowing slightly as the smile slid from his face. "Why wouldn't I? You seemed very lost earlier, Mattvey. I just wanted to know why."

"Why wouldn't you? No, no, the question is why would you? Why did you even notice me? Why did you remember who I was? I didn't even remember who I was!" The red-haze suddenly dropped away, and with it the warmth in the air around them. Canada could feel his heart start to pound in his chest, the blood throbbing in his ears, and he took a half-step back towards the still open door.

The world behind Ivan seemed to darken, the shadows growing and reaching and calling, and it took Canada shaking his head, hard, to make them go back to where they were supposed to be. Russia opened his mouth to say something else, to ask another question and bring up memories that shouldn't be messed with, that he wouldn't eve remember come morning, but Canada was already slipping into his house.

Away from the Russian.

Away from the shadows.

Away from the doubt, the hatehatehatehate, and to the only place that still held any comfort for him. Where at least Kumajirou would speak with him.

The door closed with a bang much louder than it should have.