It didn't take long after Canada's arrival for things to start. America promptly greeted him at the door offered him a seat and something to drink. After serving him some iced tea he got right down to business. "How do you feel about the situation?"

"With you and Britain?"

"No, with us."

"U-us?" He began to fidget nervously.

"Yes, us. All you've done is agree with me and do whatever I tell you to. Why don't you speak up and say what you're really thinking instead of going along without a word?"

"I just want to do what makes you happy…" He looked down at his glass and slowly began to rotate it in his hand, watching as the ripples formed.

"What if… what makes me happy, is your happiness?"

"What?" He was shocked by America's statement. Though he wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean.

"All you've done this entire time was try to keep me happy, but the more you agree with me and follow along the more miserable you seem to become." America slid closer to Canada on the couch and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it that you want for yourself? I defended you from Cuba because I didn't want to be the cause of your distress. But it seems now that the situation with Cuba wasn't the only thing bothering you." He looked at Canada with sincerity and concern and placed his last free hand on Canada's leg. "I've only thought about myself in this situation. So, what do you want me to do? What do you want?" Canada's answer meant everything. America didn't think he could make this decision on his own, so he would let Canada choose for him. He knew that Canada had everyone's best intentions at heart. He could trust whatever he decided to do.

"I… I want…" His heart was pounding faster; America's hand was gripping tighter on his thigh. He shook his head, he needed to think clearly. He knew what America was asking of him. Britain, he really did love America didn't he? And the sound in America's voice back then when he realized what they had done… He really did love Britain too, didn't he? "W-we… need to talk to Britain." As the words left his lips he felt his heart ache. He knew this was the right thing to do, no matter how he felt. America's feelings, his friends feelings, they all came first.

"If that's what you want," America said softly, removing his hands and leaning back against the couch. With a heavy sigh he reached for the phone and began to dial when something stopped him. Canada was sniffling. "A-are you… crying?" He set the phone down and brushed Canada's hands away from his face. He was crying.

"I'm f-fine…" Canada was surprised himself. He hadn't realized he was crying until America had asked. Was it really so bad? America would be happy with Britain, that's all that mattered.

"Canada…"

"Y-you need to call him… I'm fine." America didn't believe him, but he could tell Canada wasn't going to budge. He picked up the phone and dialed the number again.

"Hello?"

"Britain, it's me. Can we talk?"

"America? Sure. Where do you want to meet?"

"Could you come by my place?"

"Yes. I'll be there soon."

Britain seemed overjoyed to see America, but that quickly disappeared when he noticed Canada on the couch. "Why is he here?"

"When I asked if we could talk, I meant all of us."

"America…" He was starting to get a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. He sat in a chair to the left of the couch as America sat next to Canada.

"I haven't really told you everything that happened." America started to explain how the situation he had described before actually took place a few days prior to him arriving late at Britain's house. It was clearly visible that this was making Britain uncomfortable.

When he reached the incident with Cuba, Canada really began to fidget. He wanted to leave; he was starting to feel sick. He clutched his stomach and doubled over, but the words kept flowing out of America's mouth. He wanted him to stop. They couldn't do this.

"I brought him something to drink and he-"

"No!" Canada blurted out, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. And then before he knew it, he was crying again. The stress was overwhelming him.

"Canada?" Britain seemed very confused by this.

"Canada…" America rested a hand on his back.

"I can't… I can't do this…" He clutched his chest tight. "Please! Forgive me… No, forgive America… It was my fault…" He felt short of breathe, light headed and then, everything blacked out.

When he opened his eyes he found himself in a bed. It wasn't his own. He looked around still a bit disoriented, then realized he was still at America's. What had happened? He heard yelling.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" It was Britain.

"I'm telling you the truth!" America. So it would seem he failed at preventing anything. Perhaps he had made things worse. "Please, it was an accident!"

"Don't touch me!" He felt his heart aching again. He wished he couldn't hear them anymore. He wished for more than just that. He wished that America hadn't cared about his black eye. He wished America hadn't noticed him. Then none of this would have happened. Why couldn't he just be invisible to him like he was to everyone else?

"Britain! Come back!"

"Get away from me!"

"Britain!" He shut his eyes tight and covered his head with the blanket. He pulled his pillow over his head to keep the sounds from his ears.

In the other room America had his hands tightly gripped around Britain's wrists, Britain's back against the wall. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"Britain, please…" He rested his head on Britain's chest and began to sob. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was losing him. Everything was falling apart. "Please…"

"Don't cry like that, you fool…"

"I-I love you… Please… Don't go." America gently loosened his grip on Britain's wrists and dropped to his knees. "Please…"

"I'm sorry. I need to be alone right now America. I need time to think…" With that he brushed America's hands off and walked out the door. Leaving America in his emotional mess.