"England...you'll always be a part of me, no matter what. You're the one who made me who I am, you know?"

All he got was a nod. That was no good...

"Hey...I have a New England." he grinned. "That should make you feel better, because I used to have a New France and New Sweden, but that didn't last. At least I gave France the boot, right?"

This time, he got a smile. It was a weak smile, but it was still a smile, and he was going to take it.

"You still have a New Mexico..."

"Well yeah, but... Oh come on, England, I'm trying to cheer you up here!"

"I know," he sighed, "and I appreciate that. I really do. I just wish that I had never opened that bloody box..."

A laugh rang out through the room.

"Hey, what'd the box ever do to you? It's not its fault!"

A different laugh now, and America knew that he had succeeded in cheering the other man up.

"No, it was! It's conspiring against me, I'm certain!"

They continued to chuckle until America reached back in the box again, this time pulling out the journal and, flipping to a page in the middle, America's face went red. England leaned over to see what the big deal was, but after looking at the page, he blinked dumbly.

"What? Why do you look so embarrassed?"

"England, my potty training isn't exactly something that I'd care for you to have just sitting in a book like this!"

"Oh, it's not like anyone else is going to see it, and besides, you were so cute!" he smirked, his only intentions to rile America up. "Look at your tiny little bum..."

"Cut it out, it's not funny!" the sandy-blonde shouted, smacking England's hand away from the picture. "Let's just move on to the next page, I don't like this one!"

The sound of a page flipping accompanied the sight of England's eyes rolling, and when America let out an "aww", he looked down. It was a page with Canada, America and himself, and England recognized it as the day that he had taken the two brothers to the circus. America looked around ten, maybe eleven in human years, and he was digging into a candy apple. They all had big smiles on their faces, and it was clear that they had fun that day.

"Wasn't I adorable? Wait...was that the time that the juggler went up into the audience and tripped over Canada because he couldn't see him!? Oh man, that was so funny! Poor Mattie was traumatized..."

"Well, he almost got knocked in the head with some rather heavy juggling balls, I'd think anyone would. It didn't help that you were laughing so hard you were crying..."

"Oh don't try to make me look like the bad guy, I see the grin on your face."

England lifted his hand to his mouth to, literally, 'wipe away' the smirk. It worked, for the most part. He heard another page flip, and he glanced down to his empty tea glass, almost forgotten beside the first box he opened, but when another page flipped, than another, and another, he allowed himself to look back at the scrapbook. What, America couldn't find anything else worth talking about..? He caught sight of the page, and suddenly, he realized...he was right. America had gotten to the end, and the only pages left were mostly ripped apart, some of the damaged papers having big black marks across them. This couldn't bode well with the American... In fact, trailing his gaze up, England saw a frown on America's face, his brows furrowed into slight confusion.

'Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask...'

"England, what's this?"

'...dammit.'

He struggled for an answer. He had been upset when he had done that, yes, but would that excuse really tide over the other male? Most definitely not. But there was really no believable explanation except the truth, was there? He had to think fast...

"England..?"

Aaaand, his time was up. He swallowed, saliva hot and thick, and refused to make eye contact. This would not be easy.

"It...it was probably near a week after your rebellion. I had gotten a little bit of alcohol in my system, not really enough to get drunk, but still enough to lower my inhibitions, and I was angry, so...I took out that anger on my memories, I suppose. I was so upset, but...that didn't give me enough reason to do something so uncalled for. I...I'm sorry."

"Hey, it was your scrapbook. But you were really that mad at me... Wow. Aw man, you must have hated me..."

England interrupted.

"No! No, America, I never hated you. I didn't do that out of hate, I did it out of anger. Of course I would be mad at you, I trusted you and loved you, and I felt that you had honestly betrayed me! I was confused and upset, but I never once thought that I hated you! How could I? ...you were my brother."