A nervous hand reached for the doorbell, but shaking, was unable to ring it. America was afraid of what was about to ensue. He wished that if he just closed his eyes, it would all go away and he would find this was just a terrible nightmare. But upon opening them he saw his hand still lingering near the doorbell.

"America? Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah man, I got this," he said finally pushing his finger down. France answered the door.

"Well hello America, I was expecting to see you at some point today… But not you," he said glancing over America's shoulder to see Canada standing there as well. "Come in."

They came into the living room and sat on the couch as France went into the kitchen to get them all something to drink. America kept nervously fidgeting with his hands. "America, just breathe ok?" Canada said, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I assume you're here to talk to Britain," France said as he placed the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. "However, he's not here. He went home about an hour ago."

"H-he did?"

"Yes, but not before telling me what was on his mind. I think I should hear the other side."

America looked to Canada as if to ask his opinion. "I think he's right America, we can trust him to hear us out."

"I-if you say so…" America proceeded to retell the events that led up to this moment they were at now with Canada interjecting a few comments here and there as France listened silently. "It was… an accident… I never meant to. I would never intentionally…" At those last words Canada clutched his chest and looked away. Perhaps he had always known that America never really felt the way he did. And in all truth, it really was an accident. But to hear him say it like that.

"Canada, would you mind going into the kitchen and making another pot of coffee? It would seem America has ran out and I could actually use some more myself," France said with a smile.

"S-sure."

After Canada left the room France leaned in and spoke in a lower voice. "I sent him away so I could speak to you privately. Have you considered the situation entirely?"

America was a little confused. "What is that supposed to mean? I told you what happened and I want to fix this. Doesn't that mean I have?"

"You've considered your own feelings partially and perhaps Britain's a little, but what about Canada's?"

"Canada's feelings?" America had thought them to be the same as his own; regret and remorse, but now that attention was brought to it he realized he really knew nothing about how Canada felt. He had just agreed with whatever America said, went along with whatever America wanted to do, but was that really how he felt? Then something else caught his attention. "What do you mean I've only partially considered my own?"

"I think you might be lying to yourself."

"You're not making any sense anymore man." Maybe talking to France wasn't the best idea after all.

"How do you feel about Canada?" It didn't look like France was going to let up. He seemed very serious about this.

"I-I don't know. Why are you asking me this?"

"Because you haven't considered it. Why would you do the things you did, accident or not, if you didn't feel something for Canada in one way or another? If you found yourself in a similar situation with me, I know things would have transpired differently. I wouldn't be so hasty as to spill your guts to Britain just yet. I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but it is inevitable at this point."

France was right. America hadn't truly considered everything regarding the situation. And after he did what would happen then? Someone was going to get hurt, if it wasn't Britain, then Canada? He felt more troubled and confused than he ever had.

"Coffee's done!" Canada yelled from the kitchen.

"Just bring the pot in and fill them up, if you would?" France asked. Shortly after, Canada was leaning over the table filling the silence with the sound of coffee pouring. He sat back down next to America and looked at him wondering what the next step was.

"We aren't going to talk to Britain today…"

"W-what? Why not? I thought that's what you wanted." He was confused. What had France and America been talking about while he was gone?

"I just have a few more things I need to think about before I say anything. I need to be sure." He stood up and walked to the door. "I'm going to go home now. I'll talk to you soon Canada."

"America, wai-" France had grabbed his arm, stopping him from going to the door.

"Let him go. You should stay here for a little while longer I have some things I want to discuss with you as well."

A few days had passed and America hadn't spoken to Britain or Canada. He was still very confused about the situation. The more he thought about it, the less he knew what to do. He really did care about Canada, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he was the only one who did. When he was truly concerned about his wellbeing, Britain had brushed it off as though he couldn't be bothered with it. He knew that he and Britain had their differences, but was it really enough to separate them? They hardly agreed on anything anymore. And when it came to Canada, Britain treated him the same as everyone else. He was invisible to him, nothing to be concerned about. But Canada was a country too, just like everyone else. So why was America the only one truly treating him like it? Or was he? He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Canada, it's America. If you have time, I'd like to talk. Do you think you could come by?"

"S-sure, I'll be there soon."