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"Football is a good sport to watch, no?"
"This isn't football, frog, it's bloody rugby."
"Well, we are in America, Angleterre. And that is what the Americans call it. Is still a good sport to watch though, mon amie."
"I'm surprised you actually came, England."
"I didn't come here voluntarily! This frog-eater dragged me here! I should be in my office right now!"
"Be quiet!"
England mentally groaned, his fiery emerald eyes scowling at the Frenchman sitting to his left. Accustomed to the man's death glares, France was unfazed by England's petty behavior. To the Englishman's right was Seychelles, her face expressing disappointment while she massaged her temples.
"Will there be a day where you two finally see eye-to-eye? Because you guys always argue at least one or twice every hour. You two are the bodies of the student council. You're the president," she points to England. "And you're his vice, France. You two are supposed to be in harmony with each other."
"Me? And France?"
"In harmony?" The two boys said in unison, the word almost foreign in their lips.
"Never."
It was Seychelle's turn to groan. "Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned it. Let's just enjoy the game," she suggested, focusing her attention on the football field below.
"Actually, I might as well leave before my eardrums start to bleed," England grumbled, putting his palms up as an attempt to shield his ears from the pandemonium of cheers and hollers. He, along with many of the World Academy students, had occupied the bleachers on their side of the field. Their rival school vacated the opposite side, where they released the same amount of tenacity and support for their team.
"No, no, no. You are not going anywhere, Angleterre. You are the Student Council President! You must support our school football team like the rest of us." France caught England's arm just as he was about to stand up from his red seat.
"You're here already, and the rest of the council officers are here too. I don't need to be here, and someone has to do the work while the rest of you slack off," England proclaimed, shooting France another one of his infamous scowls. "And this heat is unbearable. I'm sweating massively under this uniform."
"That's why I told you to change before coming here," France pointed out. He tried his best to hide his laughter. The sight of England's reddening face (he'll surely be sunburnt by the end of the game) and the freckles beginning to dot on his nose was tickling France's insides.
"You never gave me that choice, you arsehole!" England yelled angrily, but his bellows were obscured by the sudden roar of cheers. Everyone was hollering in joy, some even accidentally throwing their popcorn in between the seats. "Ugh, these sodding gits-" England cursed, noticing the trash littering their area. "This is our football stadium, you twats!"
"Look what you did, mon amie. We missed America's touchdown!"
England's attention focused on the football field, his eyes catching sight of America jumping in joy and punching the air.
"And he was the one who told me to drag you here to watch him win the game for you," France muttered quietly, barely enough for England to hear.
"What was that, frog?"
"It is his first game, Angleterre. He wanted your support during his first game of the season."
On cue, England caught a glimpse of America scanning the crowd. When his and England's eyes met, the American grinned widely and waved hysterically. American then cupped his hands around his lips, yelling out as loud as he could, Did you see that, England?!
"Why would he want me to watch- wait a minute, that's why you dragged me here?!" England exploded into flames, turning to France with a glare that leveled up a hundred times.
France only looked at him with an innocent smile, a bright halo floating above his head.
The sound of a buzzer going off echoed in the entire field, indicating that it was the half-time break. Players on the field reported to their designated benches, taking sips of water and resting their bodies while the coaches announced their next strategies.
France's high pitched shriek had split England's left ear. "Ah! Mon dieu, it is the kiss cam!"
"Kiss cam?" England inquired.
"It's a tradition in American football," Seychelles started as the big screen lit up, showing a glimpse of the hundreds of students sitting on the bleachers. "They'll pick two people from the crowd and project them on the screen. I'm pretty sure you know what happens next; it's self-explanatory."
"Why would they force two people to kiss?"
"Because it is much more fun and entertaining!" France exclaimed. He grasped onto England's shoulder, pulling the man closer to him. France smirked, "Ohonhon, wouldn't it be fantastic if the camera picks us? You have no choice but to kiss me then, Angleterre. But then, it would make a certain someone jealous~"
"Jealous? Who are you talking about?" England asked with furrowed brows. "You're not making sense at all, frog."
"You are so oblivious, my little Angleterre."
"Oblivious?!"
Another roar of cheers erupted from the crowd. On the big screen was Hungary and Austria.
"Aww, it's Hungary and Austria!" Seychelles squealed.
England watched the two blushing studentd share a peck, both of them appearing flushed through the exchange. It sent the crowd to another pandemonium, hoots and cat calls in the mix as well.
"I wonder who's next! Some of them are so random sometimes!"
England did not share the same excitement. Nothing about the kiss cam was fun. It was absurd!
"This is getting boring," England started. "I think I'm going to leave-"
"Ohonhon, it actually became more interesting. Check out who's on the screen, Angleterre."
England absentmindedly glanced up the screen, eventually choking on his own breath as he catches a glimpse of himself looking back at him.
He was on the screen.
"What..!"
At first, he was glad that the one with him on the screen wasn't France, it was Seychelles.
Nevertheless, it didn't stop the dreaded feeling in his chest!
A chorus of 'ooohs' sang around them, the entire stadium becoming strangely quiet all of a sudden. They did not expect such a random pair.
"Uh…" England turned to Seychelles, whose face was crimson red but she was still looking at him.
"I think we need to-"
"Ah… Seychelles, uhm…" England could feel the heat rush to his face.
He can't do it.
No, no.
He can't.
It's not like he dislikes Seychelles.
England, in his entire existence… has never kissed anyone before.
And he's too much of a gentleman to let her down! His pride won't let him!
But he can't do it at the same time. He knew he'll mess up. Girls made him go mad. The idea of holding hands with them already triggered his nerves; he can't imagine what kissing them would do to him. As a matter of fact, England has never held hands with a girl before. Seychelles was the only girl that he's ever grown close to.
He's going to mess up big time.
"England?" Seychelle calls, her face leaning closer to him. She pulled an impatient look. "What's wrong?"
"U-uhm…" France! I'll have France switch with me! "Uhm, France? Can-"
"KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!" France yelled out loudly, prompting the crowd to begin chanting as well.
"EH…?!"
Soon enough, the entire World Academy was encouraging them to kiss. The camera was centered on them, and it won't move until they kiss.
"I… I…" England hated this. He had a strong, composed character that earned him respect from his peers. But when it comes to times like this, he's a blushing mess.
"England," Seychelles whispered. "What are you waiting for? Kiss me!"
"W-wai-"
"BE A MAN AND KISS HER ALREADY!" France shouted once more before falling into laughter.
Seychelles was leaning closer, but England was backing away. There was a point where the Frenchman had grabbed onto his shoulders, pushing the blonde persistently towards Seychelles.
Oh, no… no, no, no, no. What am I going to do?!
England blinked for a second, and something red appeared in his peripheral vision. One of the players had climbed up to the bleachers, and he was walking inside the level where England, France, and Seychelles were sitting.
And what's surprising was that the player was America.
"A… America?" Why did he come here? "What are you…?"
It happened fast.
France had let go of him.
Seychelles was suddenly blocked by their fourth party.
America then takes of his helmet, revealing a mop of messy, caramel-colored hair.
England's cheeks were suddenly captured by the American's hands, and in a second, his lips were quickly devoured by the latter's.
It lasted for about five seconds before America pulled away, leaving the Brit in a shocked state.
The crowd released a louder cheer, throwing things in the air like confetti.
"Wha… wha… wha…" England was in utter shock as he looked up at the screen.
America had kissed him.
And everyone saw it.
x
"Good job, America!"
Several students gathered around World Academy's football team, all of them congratulating their win against their rival school.
America was happy to win on his first game. It was a close score, but they persevered and earned the trophy of the season.
A lot of the students congratulated him personally, and he was grateful for their support, but there was someone he wanted to see.
America searched the crowd around the field, scanning for a certain golden haired Brit with ferocious green eyes.
When he saw none, he frowned.
It was something that was rarely seen on his face.
He's probably mad, America thought to himself. He made his way to the benches, picking up his water bottle to take a sip.
It was a good game, but he wasn't satisfied yet.
"America!"
France had called him. Turning around, the American had almost dropped his flask at the sight of the flustered blonde beside the Frenchman.
America's face immediately lit up, and the frown was gone in a second.
"Yo, Britain dude! Did you see that epic touchdown I did at the end?" America hollered, almost skipping his way to the duo. "I was totally the one that brought home the gold. Did you see it?"
"Ah, y-yes, I did," England says without making eye contact.
"We just wanted to congratulate you on your first win," France states before nudging the latter. "Right, Angleterre?"
"That's right. Congratulations on winning this season," England remarked, nodding his head as well. "Keep up the good work, America."
This was what America wanted in the end. Not a trophy, not a medal; it was this.
But something was missing.
England was too nice right no-
"B-but I don't forgive you for what you did!" England stammered, his green eyes finally coming to life. Despite the fiery look on his face, the Brit had a pink hue painted on his cheeks.
So adorable.
"What you did was unnecessary! Why did you even run up the bleachers, you wanker?! Don't think I'm going to let this go; that little act you did was unforgivable! I may be congratulating you right now but just know that I am still angry!" England ranted, small clouds of fumes bursting from his head.
There's the expression I was looking for, America thought. "You looked like you were about to pass out, and it didn't seem like anyone was going to help you. So, of course the Hero had to step in and save you instead! Nahahaha!"
It only riled up England even more. "Oh, shut it, you brat!" He shoved France away. "I'm leaving, and don't expect me to come to your next game, you git!"
And with that, England turned and left, muttering things under his breath while walking away.
Meanwhile, America's smile remained, but somehow, his eyes told a different story.
"Just give him time, America," France says. "Knowing him for years, he is very stubborn and oblivious. And I have to say, your style of courting is very… not effective."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You hide your feelings too much, that is why England cannot see it. Yes, he is oblivious, but if you say it right to his face then I am sure he'll understand. It will give him a heart attack at first though."
America shrugged. "Exactly. I can't be too straightforward. It's going to scare him away."
"You mean like that kiss?"
"Okay, maybe I was too bold," America chuckled nervously. He had to do it though, or else England's first kiss was going to get stolen away! He scratched the back of his head shyly before taking one more glance at the Englishman. "I can't tell him yet. I don't even know if he'll return my feelings."
"There's a chance. Have you seen his face? That was the first time I've ever seen Angleterre so flustered," Francis snickered. "You might have a chance, mon amie. But my advice is to pick the right time to confess to him." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "But don't wait too long."
"Yeah…"
Blue eyes remained watching England as he exited the stadium.
One day, England. One day I'll finally tell you how much I love you.