Title: Hetalia Academy

Pairings: Germany/Italy, America/England, France/Canada, one-sided France/America

High schools tough, we all know that. But how about an international boarding school? With Germany constantly fighting, America and England bickering and Russia just being...weird, tears and teenage emotions are running high, will these kids ever get their act together?

Chapter 10 - Fighting For Your Love

'My God...this day just keeps getting worse and worse...' America frowned, he could feel the starts of a headache throbbing in the back of his mind as the stress of recent events was all piling up. His stomach gave a painful twist of guilt whenever he looked down at the body lying just inches from where he sat. France was lying peacefully next to him on the bed in the hospital wing, he was completely motionless, his hair was sodden and sprawled out against the pillow, his face was greasy and pale...occasionally a nurse would stop by to check on him but nothing they did had woken him yet. America's knuckles had started bleeding from where he'd been chewing them anxiously, worried France might never wake up. All because of him.

"Bloody hell, I had to see it to believe it." England appeared in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight in front of him.

"England!" America jumped up, rushing over to him. "Oh my God, England you've gotta do something."

England just stared at him, eyes narrowed, "Have I now?"

"Yes!" America grabbed hold of England's arms, staring at him intently, "You've gotta help France with your magic, he's really sick."

"He's always been really sick." England drawled, pulling himself out of America's grasp.

"Stop joking around man! I'm serious dude." America looked back at the frail lifeless body of France. "...he could die."

England blinked, expressionless, "Oh dear."

America glared at him, "England would you please stop being an ass and help!"

England glared back, "Oh, I'm being the arse? How exactly is France in this situation?" England stepped over to the bed, shaking his head at the pale form of his foe.

America followed him over to the bed. "I gave him a potion that-"

"Exactly." England interrupted. "...you gave him a potion that made him ill."

"Because you wouldn't help me!" America said, exasperated. "I was trying to get him back to normal, he would have been okay if you'd have made that potion for me!"

"Oh, I see." England turned to the American, glaring at him. "...so you give him a toxic liquid, watch him drink it, and suddenly it's my fault?"

"You should've helped me."

"Bite me."

"Dude stop it." America looked worriedly at France, gently shaking his shoulder in the vain hope that he might wake up. England scoffed, turning to leave, America grabbed his arm to stop him. "...you can help now."

England pulled his arm out of America's grasp. "Maybe I don't want to."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I still hate you."

"This isn't about you and me." America looked at him seriously. "This is about France, and how he could die."

England was quiet for a moment before answering. "...I'm not too fond of France either." he went to leave, turning back to look at America as he reached the door. "You seem to enjoy getting yourself into situations and solving them...lets see how you deal with this one." with that he left, going back to his normal routine of lessons and school work whilst America was left alone by France's bedside, powerless to help.

America glared at the door, sitting down again, fixing his eyes on France's face. His pale skin, dry lips, his usual blonde bouncy hair lifeless and lank. America sighed, running his hands across his face. 'Oh God I've really done it this time...' he reached out and gently shook France's shoulder again, his body shifted but showed no signs of waking. America bit his lip. 'Please...please wake up France, you can't die...this is so unfair, England could so easily help him with a spell or healing potion or something, why is he being such a jerk?' he rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes, wanting the world to just swallow him up and take him away from this nightmare that he'd created.

"S-So it's true..." America looked up when he heard the quiet, timid sound of his little brother, standing the doorway, his eyes fixed on France's lifeless body lying on the bed.

"Bro..." America said softly, he had completely forgotten about Canada and what his reaction would be. Now he could feel guilt settle in his stomach again as his brother slowly approached the bed, his face pale with worry.

"W-What happened?" Canada whispered, kneeling down by the side of the bed, gazing at France despondently.

"Canada..." America looked at him hopelessly, "...I'm so sorry."

Canada slowly reached out a hand, gently tracing the side of France's feeble face, tears forming in his eyes. "France..."

America bit his lip at the forlorn look on Canada's face. "Bro I'm sorry."

Canada looked up when he realised America was apologising. "What the hell did you do?" he growled.

America winced slightly, not used to his brother verbally scorning him. "He drank something I made...it made him sick."

Canada just stared at him, mouth hanging open. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want him to love me anymore..." America said quietly, looking away from them both.

Canada looked confused before shaking his head, turning his attention back to the tremendously ill boy on the bed, gently stroking his fingers through his hair before whispering, "He'll be okay won't he?"

America bit his lip, he wanted to reassure his brother but at the same time he didn't want to lie to him. "I-I don't know..." he saw a flash of anguish in Canada's eyes when he said this. "...they don't know what's wrong with him." America finished quietly, his brother gently took hold of France's cold clammy hand, squeezing it gently, blinking rapidly. America sighed, running his hands through his hair, he'd never realised how much France meant to his brother. "Canada...France never loved me okay?"

"Yes he did." Canada muttered bitterly, keeping his eyes fixed on France.

"...not by any choice."

"What?" Canada glanced up at his brother questioningly.

America sighed softly, deciding to come clean. "He drank a love potion I wanted England to drink, by accident...so I tried to make an antidote."

Canada took a moment to put two and two together. "...an antidote that's killing him."

America rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Kinda..."

Canada stared at his brother, then glanced back at France, feeling his distress starting to mingle with anger. "All this...just so England would love you."

America swallowed nervously, recognising the tone of his voice. "Yeah."

"You really are stupid." Canada spat.

"What?" America looked confused at his brother's sudden outburst.

"You idiot, you didn't need a love potion, England loved you anyway you ass, you were just too stupid to realise it." Canada kept a tight grip on France's hand as he snarled at the American.

America blinked, looking confused, "...he did?"

Canada ignored the question, focusing his attention back on France, his voice calming back down to a sad quiet murmur, "...and now you've endangered the life of my love for something that didn't need to happen..."

America stared at him, caught off guard for a second as Canada's words sunk in. "...you love France?"

"Of course I do..." Canada whispered softly, tears welling up in his eyes as he gently stroked the back of France's hand.

America hung his head, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm so sorry bro."

"...so you said..." Canada bit his lip, tears starting to pour down his cheeks, he sobbed quietly, tracing his fingers down the side of France's face, as if willing him to wake up.

"Aww man Canada, please stop crying." America looked at his brother helplessly, awkwardly patting him on the back.

"Y-You've killed him..." Canada sobbed, cupping France's face, running his thumbs along his cheeks, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I haven't!" America jumped up, going around to the other side of the bed to hug his brother reassuringly. "He's going to be fine."

Canada sniffed, looking at America through teary eyes. "How?"

"I don't know." America used his sleeve to gently wipe his brother's tears away. "...but I promise you I won't let him die."

Canada looked around the hospital wing, catching sight of two nurses sat at the other end of the room, quietly talking amongst themselves. "Is there nothing they can do?"

America sighed, "...no...only England can help him now, with his magic."

"Magic?" Canada looked confused before shaking his head, deciding that wasn't important now. "Where's England?"

"I don't know...but he won't help."

"Why not?"

"Because the dude hates me." America looked guilty again. "...and France...but mostly because he hates me."

Canada gaped, astounded, "He wouldn't just leave France to die! Would he?"

"Go ask him, he won't listen to me."

"I will, I'll beg him to help if I have to." Canada wiped his eyes again, leaning over the bed closer to France. "...don't die okay France, please...you'll be okay." he gently kissed France's forehead. "I love you." Canada reluctantly pulled away and stood up, casting one last glance back at France before he left, in search of England. America sighed, also getting up and resuming his place at France's bedside. 'England's gotta help...I've never seen Canada so heartbroken...'

~0~

'Bloody hell why can't I concentrate?' England sighed, scribbling out the mistakes he kept making on his homework, restarting his essay for the fourth time. 'Right...how should I start this?' he stared down at the blank piece of paper for a good five minutes, unable to think of anything to write. England sighed, looking up from the table and staring into the fire in front of him, watching the flames dance about widely, he shifted on the sofa, finding he couldn't even concentrate on staring into space.

"England."

England jumped, not realising he wasn't alone. "Oh hi Canada, I didn't hear you come in."

"You've got to help France." Canada came and stood directly in front of him, getting straight to the point.

England sighed, leaning back on the sofa. "I see...so America's sent you to do his work."

Canada kneeled down, taking hold of England's hand, looking at him pleadingly. "England, please."

"No." England pulled his hand away, standing up. "I'm sure the nurses will be able to handle it."

"Well what if they can't?" Canada also stood up. "What if the only way to cure him is to use your magic?"

England sighed, stepping past Canada, ignoring the fact that he now knew his secret. "I'm sure that won't be the case."

"It might be! Please England." Canada grabbed his arm as he tried to leave the dormitory.

England looked back at Canada, getting slightly annoyed, "I don't see why I should have to, I'm not the reason he's ill."

"You mean dying."

"...yes dying, whatever."

"England please." Canada took his hands in his own, staring directly into his eyes so he could be certain he was one hundred percent serious. "I can't lose him."

England shook his head, "He's an arsehole just like America."

"So that's a reason to let him die?" Canada snapped.

England was momentarily thrown off guard, "...he might not die."

"Well even if there's only a slight chance he will I can't risk it! You've got to help."

"...no."

"England please, it would mean the world to me." Canada bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears. "...I love him."

England stared at him in amazement, "...you love him?"

"Yes, please England, I know you don't like him but he means everything to me." Canada wiped away a tear quickly, still holding onto England's hands.

At the sight of Canada crying, England softened slightly before shaking his head, resuming his serious manner. "...why? Love is painful Canada, it tears you apart and...and you end up getting your heart broken..." England stared off in to space for a moment, his voice starting to waver. "...if anything I'm doing you a favour, France would do the same thing to you."

Canada stared at him, slightly confused, "...England this isn't about America."

"I never said it was." England said defensively.

"It sounds like it is, you're letting your feelings for America get in the way of your better judgement."

England shook his head. "...that's not true."

"It is." Canada insisted, slightly bewildered by his own sudden realisation. "I know you don't like France, but you wouldn't let him die, you're only doing this because America hurt you."

"...lies."

Canada stared at him, finally realising what he should have a long time ago. "You love him, England."

"What?" England pulled his hands away from Canada's. "No I do not!"

"Yes you do! Don't you see it?"

"No." England went back over to the sofa, picked up his pen and resumed his work. "...now would you please leave?"

"England." Canada went and stood behind the table in front of the sofa. "I know we haven't been friends for very long, so I know you won't do this for me. But America wants your help, and I know deep down you really do love him, and he's sorry he hurt you." he leaned closer to England across the table to look at him as his eyes never left his work. "He needs you England."

"...he doesn't need me." England mumbled, leaning back against the sofa and away from Canada.

"Fine, believe what you want." Canada made for the door but stopped and turned around just as he was about to leave. "But if you don't help then France might die, and all because of some stupid grudge you've got against my idiot of a brother, I thought you were better than that, England."

England stayed silent on the sofa, waiting until he heard the soft bang of the door as it closed behind the Canadian until he moved. Sighing deeply he stood up off the sofa and began pacing the room, replaying Canada's words over and over in his head. 'Bloody hell...I'll never forgive myself for this.' he shook his head as he went into his bedroom, looked under the bed and retrieved his spell book from the black box.

~0~

America jumped up when the door of the hospital wing opened and Canada walked in. "Hey, you talk to England?"

"Yeah..." Canada sighed softly, going to France's bedside

America saw the look on Canada's face and slowly sat back down again. "No luck huh?"

"No." Canada sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, taking hold of France's hand once more. "He wouldn't listen, he told me to leave."

America frowned, "Aww hell, I thought he'd listen to you, aren't you guys buddies?"

"I thought so...but I guess we were never as close as I thought we were..." Canada sighed, gently stroking France's hand. "...England can be so stubborn."

"Oh...well it's remarks like that which make me wonder why I ever help people in the first place." England appeared in the doorway, clutching his spell book to his chest and sporting his black cape.

"England!" Canada beamed, turning around on the bed and holding out his hand to the Brit. "You changed your mind."

"Well...seeing you happy means more to me then holding a grudge." England went to him, taking hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. America looked away, sighing softly. "Anyway, stand aside and I'll have him fixed in a jiffy."

Canada grinned, giving France a quick kiss on the back of the hand before he stood up off the bed and took a step back. "He'll wake up? Thank you England!"

"Don't thank me yet." England opened up his spell book and carefully balanced it on one hand as he placed his other hand directly in the centre of France's chest. "Okay, here we go." England cleared his throat, closed his eyes and began to speak, "Oh healing light, surround him now, relive his spirit's darkest hour..." England chanted softly, pressing down on France's chest with his hand as America and Canada watched in wonderment. "Healing light, shinning bright, let France's sickness flee in fright." a bright light burst from England's hand, getting swallowed up through France's chest. "Bright light, shining light, heal his hurt with all thy might, call forth light, in the dark of night, to heal the blight, with strength and with might." England started getting louder, the light blazing brightly, America shifted backwards on his chair, shielding his eyes with his arm. "France will be well, that by free will that can be blessed, with total health and happiness, I ask the Goddess to hear my call, that it may be correct and for the good of all. I call upon a breath of wind, empowered by the spirit of air. To carry my spell toward my kin, and gracefully deliver it there. By all the power of three times three. This spell bound around him shall be. To cause no harm, nor return on me. As I do will, So mote it be!" England raised his arm and slammed his hand back down hard onto France's chest, white light erupting from England's palm. France's lifeless form suddenly jerked into life, he shot up, coughing and spluttering on the bed as England took a step back, breathing heavily, closing his book.

"W-What iz happening 'ere?" France croaked, looking around the room confused.

Canada stared at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "France...you're okay!" he ran at the older teen, practically throwing himself into his arms. France caught him easily, holding him close.

"Canada...what iz going on?" France glanced up at England and America, Canada noted happily that France's eyes didn't linger too long on America before he looked back at the Canadian sat in his lap.

"You were really sick, dying perhaps, but you're okay now! England made you better." Canada grinned, turning to the Englishman.

"England?" France looked extremely confused at the cape wearing boy before turning his attention back to Canada. "I'm sure it was you who made him do it."

"Oh yes, don't thank me or anything." England droned, rolling his eyes.

"England thank you so much, you've made me so happy." Canada beamed, wiping his eyes, wrapping his arms around France's neck.

England smiled slightly, "That's all that matters then."

"You don't remember anything that happened?" America asked from his bedside, slightly worried France might jump him.

"Oui, I remember being in love with you..." France grimaced, shuddering slightly. "...and then I remember drinking this 'orrible liquid...and I woke up 'ere."

"Yeah...sorry about that." America went to pat France on the back when Canada gave him a pleading look, he stopped his hand in midair and pulled it away quickly.

Canada looked between France and his brother. "You don't still love America do you?" Canada asked anxiously, pulling away from him slightly.

France gently took hold of Canada's hands in his own. "No, of course not...you know zer 'as only ever been one person for me."

Canada bit his lip, his cheeks tingeing slightly pink, "...really?"

"Oui..." France pulled Canada closer, resting his forehead against the younger boy's. "...say ze words I want to hear, Canada."

Canada could feel his heart beat faster, a single tear slid down his cheek as he squeezed France's hands and whispered, "Je t'aime, France."

France smiled, gently wiping Canada's eyes, "Je t'aime, Canada..." he held the Canadian's face in his hands, pressing their lips together. Canada smiled against France's lips, resting his hands against his shoulders, kissing him sweetly, curling his fingers into France's blonde locks. They kissed for a few seconds longer before France pulled away softly, bringing his arms around Canada to embrace him. Canada smiled lovingly, curling up in France's lap, resting his head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. France stroked his fingers through Canada's hair, closing his eyes as they cuddled together in the hospital bed.

America looked away politely, it was all very sweet and all but it wasn't something he particularly wanted to see. A thought occurred that now France was well and Canada was happy he could finally get to work on getting England to forgive him. America looked up to ask England if they could go somewhere together when he saw it was only the three of them in the room. England had left, he was gone.

~0~

Germany yawned, taking another chug from his beer, spilling some of it over the sides of the mug as he slammed it back down on the bar too heavily. Usually he didn't drink so much that he let alcohol take over his actions, however tonight he was feeling sorry for himself. Glancing up at the clock he saw it was nearly eleven at night, Germany sighed, resting his head in his hands, dreading the thought of going up to bed. 'Why do I keep doing stupid things? Poor Italy...he must have felt so violated...' Germany shook his head in dismay, clawing at his hair. 'Scheiße...I really am disgusting.'

"Hello Germany, you're still here?" Mr Danketsu smiled, taking the bar stool next to Germany's.

"Ja, but I'll go up to bed now if you wish Sir." Germany knocked back the rest of his beer, moving to get off his stool.

"Oh no I wasn't saying that, although lights out is in thirty minutes...however I wanted to have a word with you."

"Oh." Germany sat back down, turning to face the old man. "What is it Sir?"

"I just wanted to thank you for helping Italy settle into life here at the academy, he seems to really be enjoying himself." Mr Danketsu smiled, patting Germany on the back.

Germany looked away from him, sighing quietly "Ja...my pleasure Sir."

Mr Danketsu looked slightly befuddled at Germany's apparent sadness before carrying on. "...he seems to have grown rather fond of you."

Germany winced, "Ja...I suppose."

"...and you him?" the headmaster asked.

"I...I do enjoy his company." Germany muttered vaguely, looking away.

Mr Danketsu smiled knowingly. "You know Germany, if you feel something for Italy more than friendship you shouldn't be afraid of it."

Germany coughed awkwardly, standing up off the bar stool, his cheeks going red, "Right well, goodnight Sir." he left quickly before the headmaster could inquire any further.

Mr Danketsu watched him go, shaking his head fondly, "That boy needs to stop shying away and realise his feelings."

~0~

Germany eventually reached the dormitory, it was nearly half past eleven by now, he'd gotten sidetracked in the corridor when he went and sat down on a windowsill, just to watch the stars for a minute or so before bed. However he'd ended up sat there for nearly half an hour, his mind had wandered elsewhere and he felt too saddened to move. A teacher soon came past and told him he needed to be in bed so Germany had to leave and find his way in the dark school up the stairs to the dormitory.

Germany made his way over to his bedroom, looking slightly confused as two teens were snuggled up together, fast asleep on the sofa, France and some country he couldn't quite recognise. However what was even more confusing was the half asleep Italian, curled up on the steps just outside the bedroom door. "Italy?" Germany muttered softly, kneeling down beside him. "What are you doing out here?"

"...Germany?" Italy whispered, yawning tiredly, "I don't know where my key is, I think Japan locked the door from the inside and he's a heavy sleeper I couldn't wake him."

"Why didn't you come and find me?" Germany helped Italy to stand, having to take most of the Italian's weight as he was struggling to stay awake.

Italy shrugged, leaning into Germany's chest. "...I didn't want to make you mad."

Germany sighed, with one arm wrapped around Italy he unlocked the door and lead them both inside, Japan was indeed fast asleep on his bed, oblivious to his two friends. Germany shut the door quietly and helped Italy into bed, wrapping him up in the covers. "There..."

"Grazie..." Italy smiled softly, gently gripping onto Germany's hand as he curled up in bed, falling straight to sleep. Germany watched him for a moment, sighing deeply, maybe it was the way Italy was clutching his hand as he slept, or maybe it was because he was so tried himself...it might have been because he'd had one too many beers, whatever the reason, Germany climbed into Italy's bed alongside him. The German wrapped his arms around Italy's smaller body, pulling him close and spooning against him, his hand still in Italy's.

"Gute Nacht Italy..." Germany mumbled softly into Italy's hair, tenderly kissing the back of his neck, eventually falling asleep in the warm embrace of his friend.

I'm sorry for the wait, was a little preoccupied recently with prom :) Still, cute Canada/France fluffiness to beg your forgiveness! :)

Je t'aime - I love you
Gute Nacht - Goodnight