England's POV:

When I arrived at America's school, I immediately found my way to the principal's office. I rarely came to this wretched place filled with snotty teenagers, and had no bloody clue where to find America.

I walked into the office where Mr. Roman Empire was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, speaking to a woman dressed in fancy clothes and jewelry. I coughed loudly once to cqth their attention, and both of their heads turned towards me in sync.

"O- oh.. please excuse us, madam," the principal smiled flirtatiously, before the woman giggled and sauntered away. "Mr. England, what brings you here today?"

"I need to see my son. Where is his classroom," I demanded.

"Which one?" Roman Empire asked. "You have two children."

"Oh, America. Where is his classroom?"

"It's in room b315. Would you like me to take you there?" The Roman Empire stood up from his chair, clearly assuming I'd need help. However, I'd be lost in a high school by myself long before I accepted help on something as simple as finding a room by myself.

"I believe I'll be fine, sir. Thank you for your offer, but," I said. "I think I'll just go one my own." I turned around and left the office room on my own, unsure of exactly where to go, but positive in my own skills to locate my son. The building, though large, had a rather simple layout, and it didn't take long to find the room I was looking for.

I knocked on the classroom door and waited for the the teacher to let me in. When he did, however, I didn't see America in the room.

"May I help you?" The teacher asked me.

"Uh, y- yes... is this not room B315?" I asked, and an understanding look formed on the man's face.

"No," he answered. "This is A315. B315 is right down the hallway."

"O- oh.. right.. I apologize," I bowed down slightly and turned around to leave the room when a Tony voice stopped me.

"Father, if you'd like, I can take you to America's class," It was Canada. Apparently this was his class.

"Oh, uh... sure," I said. Canada smiled and skipped a few steps to stand next to me. "I'm borrowing him for a quick minute," I said to the teacher and left the room with Canada. We were walking I'm silence for a few minutes before I finally decided to say something to him. "Why do you have your cat at school?"

"Because he wanted to come."

"Meow?"

America's POV:

Class is so boring... Everyday I have to sit through this hell in a state of utter boredom. With nothing else to do to entertain myself, I glanced out the window into leading into the hallway and allowed my mind to wander. I kind of wished I had more classes with Canada. That could be fun. Or maybe, if we were home schooled, I could spend every minute of every day with him. A sudden pain in my chest distracted me from my thoughts and I blinked a few times to force myself back to reality. When I did, there were two more people in the room that I hadn't even noticed had entered. England and Canada were standing in the doorway. Father England was speaking to my teacher, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Soon, however, England had turned towards me.

"Come on, America," England beckened. "We're leaving early today. Get your things."

"Uhh.. alright, Bro," I said, standing from my seat and gathering my books at the same time. After half-hazardly shoving my belongings into my over the shoulder bag, I rushed out the door to stand with England and Canada. "What's up? Why are we going to early? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is not okay, you nitwit!" England shouted. "We'll discuss it in the car!"

I had no idea what Father could have possibly been mad about, so I silently nodded and followed him to the car. Once we were there, Canada and I both sat in the back seat, aka, the farthest away we could be from England. England turned around in his own seat and glared at us both as though we were criminals convicted of murder.

After staring at us for several unbearable seconds, Father began speaking. "France told me what happened... why would you.. er.. do that to your brother, America!? It's gross, and quite frankly, I don't want that in my house!"

"England, I had a reason to," I said, "I only did that to prove that--" I slowly trailed off into a mumble. I couldn't blame this all on Canada. England would kill him. I guess I could take the blame. I sighed. "Sorry Father. I did it entirely because I wanted to in that moment. It was a strange urge and I won't do it again."

Canada's POV:

Why on Earth was America taking the blame for me? I needed to stop this, that's not fair for him.

"Father, it wasn't America's fault," I tried to join in on the conversation, but neither of them seemed to notice. Not willing to give up, I continued talking. "He only did it to try to show that I liked it. No, that I liked him. F- Father... I'm in love with America!"

"Canada..." England said.