Archive of Our Own

'Twas the glorious summer of MMXXI.

Or, for those who did not daydream of underage drinking with the gang of girlies in aesthetic, DIY'd mushroom dresses they posted TikTok tutorials for in a fabled Renaissance Fair during the entire COVID-19 lockdown (pause for a deep breath), unlike him: It was the rad-tastic as-all-hell summer of 2021. Amen for that.

Little by little, the embodiment of the American nation watched the populace trickle their way back into public spaces. Workplaces called workers into office, schools announced in-person education the following school-year, and events began running up again with advertising. As though picking up steam, soon enough, if America decided to go outside to a destination that was not his neighborhood or a grocery store, he'd see a huge swathe of weary faces, desperate for the sun and the outside air, almost looking like nothing had ever happened— save, of course, for the face masks most (hopefully…) still continued wearing. The young man pondered the thought of the mutating and ever-contagious strains of COVID that he kept up with in the news. Well, it's only with time that the virus becomes a common sickness like the flu…. Almost makes me feel a little bad for the people who'll get it yearly. But with a working and readily supplied vaccine, now, the cause for crisis of the world-wide outbreak of the super-contagion was effectively quashed.

Haha! "Nice going, team!!!" I would say to everyone at the next world meeting. And they will all be super happy too, and love-love-LOVE that I've acknowledged their amazing work, and THEN, we'll all go out to eat at the most BOUGIE McDonald's that I can possibly find. PICTURE IT! An ENTIRE buffet of french fries!!!

America salivated at his own visions of greasy fast food.

Then, he gasped with such a full-body force that his scrambling to his feet almost sent him off the sidewalk into a busy road, in place of simply off the bench. "HOLY STINKING CRAP, I CAN TOUCH MY FRIENDS NOW!"

A lady previously crossing the road to get to the block that America was on suddenly swiveled her stroller and headed back.

But the nation didn't care for the weird looks, he knew himself— he was probably even stranger than most of those strangers thought! Instead, he started rummaging through his nostalgically vintage coat's pockets, and out a torrent came: A waxy ball of food-wrapper from Wendy's, a crushed-up receipt from Costco, a teared-open package of Oreos, a repulsingly measly and shocking 1/2 penny that gave the late-stage capitalist, stagflated country so much distress to lay eyes on that he threw it across the street where it landed on a squirrel, and a string of interesting and, for some reason, southernly-twanged, curses as America finally found his phone. "Aha!" He cheered with a jubilant grin. The thought of finally meeting up with his fellow nations after a year of almost exclusively talking to everyone through online messaging— though that was very fun in its own right— was the kind of idea that buoyed his steps like he had been refilled with helium on the inside instead of organs, meat, and bones.

And, well, America didn't need his physical insides to survive that much… so who's to say that the analogy of skipping around like a balloony meat sack wasn't exquisitely and irrefutably accurate!?

High on the good news, he made a Messages group chat of the people he personally most wanted to hang out with, and called them all.

Notably, he had forgotten to add his identical twin, Canada.

A couple had weeks had passed since the day that America had his most lovely revelation, and now was pulling into the dirt track of the Del Mar fair along with his merry band of jet-lagged bunches of grouches stowed away in the back seats of his killer monster of a truck. And no, the amazing USA would not let an oxymoron stop THIS moron (himself) from calling the situation like it was. So much complaining!

He said to them as everyone grabbed their hats, sunglasses, and put sunblock on, "Y'all are gonna be thanking me by the time we go on Crazy Mouse, y'know!"

Because Mexico made it a point to disagree with basically everything he's ever said, the blue-haired man let drop a heavy hand on America's shoulder before sighing, "How about some of us are still sick from the drive we had to make and also another small— no, ¡grande!— thing that starts with un 'y' and ends with 'ou'?"

The blond made an incredulous face at the playful banter. "C'mon dude, a trip to San Diego is not that bad at all. It's LITERALLY bordering TJ!" To mark the point, America digged Mexico's stringed strawhat harder into his head where it'd been falling off before then.

It ensued into somewhat of a slap fight before the American's drive to roughhouse petered out, glimpsing out the corner of his eye his older brother watching them with a pinched expression. "Well… okay, say you're really not into the rides beyond the purpose of messing with me— you're really gonna be glad you came once you see the animals! They have ponies you can pay to ride, ya know…" He elbowed his admittedly standoffish buddy who, when he turned his head and looked away with only a bat to America's arm, the blond knew he'd gotten invested. One of the very first things he's ever known about Mexico was how much that guy loved horses, even as only a kid.

"Anyway." America pushed up his glasses while raking his eyes across the assembled party. Mexico, England, France, Japan, and— woah woah woah, who the freshly baked butter roll was that!?

"Canada?" America exclaimed in genuine, full-hearted surprise. He had completely forgotten to invite his twin brother! "How the hell are you here!?"

His bro only managed a sadly twitching smile. "Is that really all you have to say…"

"Uh, well," he waved off, shrugging and pulling out his phone to check the time, "you're here now, aren't you?" In fact, he had nearly dropped the device when a smack came at the back of his head. "OW!"

"Would it kill you to have some respect for your sibling and say sorry? Better yet, getting off that devilish phone and speaking face-to-face? I hope you're happy that me and France are used to your air-headed tendencies after all these centuries, and helped him get here."

America voiced his most annoying whine to puzzle over the reason England had to hit him THAT hard, and in front of company, no less! "Okay, okay, fine, geez… look Canada-dude, I kinda forgot to add you to our plans and that's my bad, because that definitely was not my intention, I swear." Especially not, even, since now… "Argh! Wait this totally blows, are you kidding me!? We'll have to wait in a line to buy an extra ticket now! No offense or anything, but you showing up is such a hassle…"

"ALFRED FREEGIFT JONES!"

This time, America screamed as England went in for the noogie-ing kill.

What was with not technically having parents and still getting his full legal name dropped when he was in trouble?

The slowing spin of the carousel helped Japan spot France and England sitting on uniquely painted unicorns situated side-by-side, as per usual, bickering with one another. The black-haired nation waited by the squealy exit gate for the pair with a tapping foot.

France was the one who spotted him first, and left his partner behind in the dust, causing England to flounder with his comeback when he opened his eyes next. Jostling his suave gait to account for the running little kid that zoomed through, France stopped by Japan's side, registering his urgent mood. "Yes, mon ami? You looked like you needed something."

"Hai," came with a nod at both himself and the prick of an Englishman, when he finally joined the two of them. "America-kun promised me that we would ride the Defender together, but when we were inside the shopping area, I lost track of him and couldn't find him anywhere. To make things worse, he won't answer his phone. I don't suppose you saw him…"

His hesitant asking got a no from England immediately.

France looked to Japan's tiny stature, and then to the white, giant beanstalk with two pairs of double-seats on each end that was for some reason given the moniker of "a ride", and blanched. "Sacre bleu, you both are really looking to go up there on that thing!?"

Japan, somewhat of a covert thrill-junkie and previously excited for a stunning aerial glimpse of America's end of the Pacific shared with the young man, confirmed with an unamused frown.

In contrast, England was already seriously considering the issue, with the weight of having to wrangle his little brother back from causing any trouble like a particularly squirmy bull falling onto his old caretaker. He wrinkled his upper lip. "There didn't happen to be any food products on display, were there?"

The tips of Japan's mouth twitched at the idea. Running off just to try some fair food was absolutely the kind of thing America would do, and in fact had happened once already at the countered stand that sold full, sour dill pickles, but that would have been impossible to be the case. "…We were in the mattress section, though."

From France came a dry chuckle at such a ridiculously marketed industry in America, though none of the other two payed it much mind. England scowled, "I know which of the three exhibition halls you're talking about…. Blast it all, without a food hotspot, we have no way of tracking that fat moron!"

Though not intentioned, the mood turned more dour with the exclamation. The shortest of them, Japan, shifted on his sneakered feet unhappily.

A moment passed in silence.

"Ah! I know, the amazing moi has just come up with the solution that will save us all the dreadful hassle of filing a missing person case~! Let's see if our ground zero team's spotted him." France opened his (Louis Vuitton) fannypack and took out his flip-phone, holding a hand up to England's scoff and dialing his cute little brother, Canada. And the dial rang… and rang… and rang…

At quite a distance from the entrance's rides, Canada and Mexico spent their time at the fair touring around the artisan stalls.

Since on which tables were filled with bobble-headed alebrijes or beaded, woven, and leather bracelets and bags, Mexico would in fact just call the products themselves artesanías.

Looking at them gave him a peculiar form of sadness, serving as physical evidence of the emigrated or first-generation peoples manning the stalls, and being suddenly hit with the realization that in another universe, the land of California where they stood would not be attached with the same meanings at all.

Where he stood in front of a collection of paper-paintings, he spied tucked into the back a small rendition of America's flag, possibly to honor the new home of the artist and their family. …And there went his feelings scrambling again. While it's true to some degree that the US was a safe haven in comparison with nearly all places south of it, it wouldn't do to forget exactly which country it was that factored in to most of Latin America's strife.

Mexico furrowed his brow. But that wasn't as in he was implicating America himself or anything— no matter how absolutely annoying the man was all the time, getting to know him better over the past year, he could safely say that no, America… would never…

It all got a little too heavy to think through at a bustling county fair.

Mexico jumped at a hand on his shoulder. Canada apologized (like he always did), saying that he wanted to show him something, and lead the both of them to a display of both a variety of flowers and crafted figures dancing different styles of baile folclórico out of corn husks.

"Wow," was all he could say at first. Because looking at the masterful work was almost… baffling. To see such artwork that was filled to the brim with Mexico's cultural heritage just so loosely outside his own grip felt strange and haunting, yet, the craftsmanship spoke for itself.

After doing what any sane person would do and blowing his wallet clean of about $100 US dollars for Mexican (…in America) artisan work, he dragged Canada away from this place of torture. From there, they explored the small, compact houses on the side of the road for tour, and for some reason, sale, though why someone would want to buy a house so small and ugly was a mystery to the both of them.

After passing through a muralized tunnel, the pair made their way towards a few more tarp-covered stalls, nestled in like a puzzle block with one of the actual permanent architecture wrapping around a field of grass with a stage inside. Mexico stood leaning against a column in the shade of a palm tree, Canada observing wares not too far away. The pale-blond seemed to have his eyes caught on the printed designs of popular franchises on ponchos. Meanwhile, Mexico had seen them enough in places like, well, Mexico, to know that it's not worth nearly as much as the stall owners were charging, especially with dollars. He went up to the other, "I wouldn't buy those here. They knock up the prices 'cause ponchos are more of a novelty this side of the border. You know, if you really wanted one, you… could come to my place. I'll get you one for cheaper!" Mexico said completely coolly and nonchalantly. He didn't even drag his eyes up to see Canada's probably pleasant— pleasantly surprised, that was!— expression. But he noticed that the man jolted at his voice from where he was holding on to the hem of a poncho with some art of Sonic the Hedgehog. And plus, Mexico thought, eyeballing the design, you can do much better than that one, Canadá.

But it was as he snarked inside his head that his roaming gaze found one in particular showing Goku from Dragon Ball Z. Immediately, everything he was just talking about went flying out the window. "Ay wey…" Brown hands flew to back pockets before his plastic bags knocked on his legs and he remembered, oh that's right, I spent my cash already… which was an extremely disappointing experience. 0/10 county fair, no new Goku merch acquired.

"W-well, I wasn't gonna get it for me," Mexico returned to looking at Canada as he stuttered with a blush. "It's that America really loves Sonic, so it made me want to check it out. Let me just take a picture to show him later, eh? …Ah… oh…. Argh, come on, where is my phone…?"

Instantly, Mexico stood more to attention. "¿Mande? What— do you need me to call it?" Which was a dumb question in retrospect, because he was pretty sure that he'd accidentally left his in America's stupid nasty car.

"No, I," suddenly, Canada took in a sharp breath. "I think it's still on the table of one of the little Mexican shops!"

When the blue-haired man groaned, it was more out of worry than exasperation. Together, they booked it towards the tunnel again, but by the time they were able to retrieve Canada's phone from the fair staff, it was already too late.

"Urgh," England vocalized over France's French cursing as Canada (and then Mexico) didn't answer. "Should have known he'd be no good at this, honest…"

Japan shrugged.

"Then what do you suggest we do!?" Cried the previously raving man. "This must be a fairgrounds of thousands of people, poor Amérique is as good as a coin thrown into the sea!"

"Well don't tell us something I've already said before, frog! In any case," The Brit rubbed at his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, "I… suppose… there is in fact one thing I'm able to do, as our last resort…"

Following the mysterious declaration, England took them to a permanent building structure that housed a stage and encompassed a grassy field, tables, and some palm trees to do the deed. Despite the broad daylight, with personnel managing the equipment for the stage, interest in the area was relatively low.

From deep within the man's backpack he wrestled with the slippery weight of his full-to-bursting tome of spells. It looked ancient… and not right. When he threw the book onto the grass and flowering weeds, it was on instinct that Japan swerved away with a repressed shudder. "What… what are we going to be doing now, England-san?"

"Summoning spell," he grunted, and left it at that.

Flipping to the correct page involved releasing an onslaught of mustiness that had France wiping the air before his nose with dramatic flair, and preparation a spell circle painted on the grass.

England corralled them all into sitting at equal distances inside of it, holding hands. "At least with you two here, it will make the magic stronger," he grumbled. "Now, I am going to begin chanting, and you cannot under any circumstances break our physical connection— is that clear?"

Japan and France both nodded.

And so began the chanting. To Japan, it personally sounded like complete gibberish, not that he would admit it out loud… "Anna, Olaf, Link from Four Swords but blue/Kristoff, Sven, and Hellsa too". What kind of meme post poetry was that? The circle began glowing white, which, embarrassingly, attracted some stares. He looked towards the people milling through the entrances and exits through the area with slight jealousy.

Yes, Japan did know what he said, but being recorded doing this was unconcerning more for the rediscovery of Earth's greatest pseudo-secret than it was for his chances of coming out of the performance not judged by the internet. The humans would just assume it was some special effects or something like that, and treat the three as weird for doing it all in a public space.

Or perhaps… he was just somewhat of an abnormal individual…

As England's pitch reached an even more ferverous tone, a glint of golden hair across the park caught Japan's eye. He gasped, body flinching with the shock, "America!" No, he was leaving!

France whipped his head around. "Quoi? Where!?"

Japan wrenched his hand from France's to point towards the tent shops facing the other way in the corner. "There! He's running away!"

Japan only had the time to realize that it was not America in the crowd that he had spotted, instead being Canada. While his face was turned away, he knew that England had interrupted himself to spew panicked curses, and for that very reason of his positioning, was spared from the eye-searing whiteness that overcame them all.

When America had been walking with Japan through the enclosed shopping halls, he toured the wares for genuine love of the game. Taking free samples, enjoying a complimentary 10 minutes on the massage chair, buying random stuff he'll shove in the storage when he gets home, and lying on the demo mattresses— for someone of his tastes, it never seemed to get old! He just didn't expect to sink through the foamy bed and out of sight of his best friend.

After almost two full, suffocating minutes, America managed to surface to the faces of multiple shocked MatressFirm employees. Yet amongst them, he couldn't spy a head of jet-black hair anywhere! Only after wondering where Japan was did America realize that his phone had, unluckily, gotten lost in the mess of what had ended up of the mattress.

"Of course the bed collapses when I'm on it…. Dude, I'm not that fat, am I?" The graying lady besides America looked him, well-shaped, long-legged, and at the most an extremely young adult, up and down with a skeptical expression. Well…! The scale at his house didn't lie! Even though America was excersizing after all he ate, he still was constantly putting on pounds…

Deciding to leave them be to search for his personal device, he instead took the time to go take a quick bathroom break. Unbeknownst to him, he would not be coming back out of there anytime soon.

Just before he could work on undoing his belt, a ring of sigils bursted into being on the tiles of the stall underneath his feet. "What the hell—!" America cried in alarm, but was too-quickly swallowed by a bright, all-encompassing light.

The next second was an intense moment of extreme disorientation before suddenly, the blond found himself shouldering the rest of all his weight again, slamming unintentionally into a wall. When in a few seconds he managed to right his balance, he was able to see that the wall was actually the door of a bathroom stall. He unlatched it. A bathroom stall… in a different bathroom altogether.

America worked his jaw in somewhat of a simmering panic. This was not the dingy, slightly-run down men's bathroom of the fair's shopping halls— if anything, it kind of looked like the one in the junior high school of The Amazing World of Gumball (of which he is an avid fan and supporter of, along with other funny and iconic American cartoons, thank you very much). The nature of the fact itself was deeply unsettling, but he decided not to linger. Pressing on the wide latch, America swung the heavy bathroom door open— "Shoot!"— and almost hit some kid passing by.

"Sorry! I didn't get'cha, right?"

The teenager, after patting down his arms, shook his head and made eye contact, green upon blue.

America startled. That face… "Greece!?"

All he received was a dull look of confusion. No, no, no, because this didn't make any sense! "Dude, what're you doing here? Man actually, where the hell even is here!" That damned circle— it must have been some kind of teleportation magic or something. And he'd bet money that the culprit was limey Iggy.

"Uhh…" the, ah, seemingly shorter than usual? man was turning out to be quite slow in his mannerisms and speech… which was unfortunately just like usual, though whether it was or wasn't didn't matter much as, either way, the typically high-strung America found it somewhat hard to handle. "Are you okay…?"

"Me? Hah? Yeah, totally-completely fine, obviously," the blond said in a hurry. A couple of seconds passed where there would normally be a follow-up on behalf of the other speaker. Unfortunately, you couldn't really expect that much from Greece. America liked him though, he swears. He picked up the slack himself, "Okay dude, so are you trying to call me crazy right now, orrrr, what's going on?"

"Uhh…"

America breathed in, and breathed out. Given that Greece still hadn't continued by the time he was done, it rendered the exercise completely useless. "No but… you're kind of being weird. I don't get why you seem so surprised to see me if we're in the same grade. Oh wait, you were coming from the bathroom…. Oh… I get it… you were vaping in there, huh… did you get it from, uh… wait, what's his name? Huh, I can't remember. But don't worry, I won't tell, I like your brother; I think his forgettable and pliantly mellow nature is so cute, it reminds me of a pygmy seahorse. Those ones can camaflauge with coral and it's the males that get pregnant, did you know that?" —Dude, who the fuck are you even talking about right now, America thought in resigned confusion— "But seriously, I didn't know that vapes can make you high, I just thought that they severely damaged the chemical balance in your brain causing mood problems like depression and desensitization to the things that used to bring you joy because that doesn't sound fun but if you can have visions that you're out of school, then I don't know, maybe I want one—"

"SCHOOL?" The blond wheezed with his entire chest. Sure, even nowadays he was only 19 physically, but throughout the centuries and horrifying suggestions by his rotating cast of bosses, he did not shy away from using his position to never ever be enrolled in a god-forsaken human school. The thought itself was terrifying. He was way too lazy! unproductive? chill for that!

"Yeah, that's what I just said. Wow, I need to tell everyone about the amazing vapes that Alfred's brother-that-I-forgot-the-name-of sells…" said the fluffy-haired brunette, taking out his phone and tapping character by character with a single finger.

"Woah, what? No bro, I'm— dude, I don't have a vape, and why'd you…" Why was Greece calling him Alfred? Like, no one called each other by their pretend human names…

"Why…? Hey!"

What was that lazy bum's deal, walking away from him while America was talking!? "Greece," he tried shouting, but it didn't provoke any response. Ugh, and he couldn't remember the man's other name! "Wait, come back! Why are we in school!?!"

Nothin'. The American just had the absolute pleasure of watching a retreating back get smaller and smaller, tacked on with it the sickening flaunting of a school backpack. He almost threw up at the sight…

Something buzzed in his jean's pocket, of which made him realize: he had not been wearing these clothes before. Already knowing that the something could only be a smartphone, he pulled it out with the sneaking suspicion that the entire ordeal must be beyond a simple teleportation incident. The phone looked like his, sporting the same case and background and everything, but firstly, he had lost it a few minutes prior, and secondly, the date at the top ended in the numbers "2026", not "2021", which almost made him groan. See, due to another magical incident at a fair right before the pandemic had hit, England had somehow, while attempting to fix his phone's cracks, managed to cause it to occasionally time travel into the future. Despite this, he was pretty sure that this was not a simple case of his phone time traveling, rather, being one where he did. America totally should have banned England from coming this time— maybe then he wouldn't have been transported to another, freaky dimension (where he was in HIGH SCHOOL.)! Would this happen every time that he and his older brother went to state or county fairs…? Only dread came with the thought.

Anyway, back to America's extraordinary displacement: this particular space-time was really weird as hell. The notifs were coming from some texting app that he'd never seen before in his life, opening a groupchat that had a whole bunch of random names in there! But his racing heart clenched (and not due to junk food-induced cardiac arrest) in relief when he recognized a few familiar-looking ones.

The Chitlins™

Heracles: everyone

Heracles: this is really really really important

Lovino: Wow, it must be for hairball for brains to talk first in the chat

Gilbert: GET IT HAHAHA because heracles is like borderline in love with cats and cats have hairballs??? LOL #ROFL #LMAO #EinsteinIsStillAlive #ThatsMyMan #Smart #STEM #TsundereTwinksInSTEM

Lovino: WOULD YOU STOP TALKING AFTER I TALK FOR FUCKS SAKE IM GOING TO GET A DIGTAL RESTRAINING ORDER ON YOU SO THAT I CAN LAUGH AT YOUR STUPID DOPEY TIED UP FACE BEHIND BARS

Gilbert: Tbh i know ur trying to say tat i end up in jail but baby what if it was ur secret sexy dungeon underneath ur house i was tied up and thrown behind bars in would that go hard or what 😂😂 #BDSM #Lemon #Lime #Orange

Francis: Hard~~ ofc! 😽

Gilbert reacted with '❤️‍🔥'

Lovino: EW EW EW WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM THERE IS SOMETHING MESSED UP IN HIS BRAIN LIKE WHY WOULD HE EVEN SAY THAT

Elizabeta: Exactly, headcanoning your friends is fun and all but oh girl idk about doing it anywhere outside of your digital diary and telling them it all haha!!

Lovino: What..

Elizabeta: Sorry what were we talking about

Lovino: I…dont even know.

Lovino: @Heracles what were you going to say before that freaky vampire started communicating with us

Gilbert reacted with '🥺'

Heracles: oh

Heracles: well i learned that my math teacher has 3 kitties

Heracles: he named them a² b² and c² i think

Heracles: uhh or was that just the math lesson im skipping and i switched them up

Ludwig: ??? Didn't we all learn the Pythagorean theorem in middle school

Ludwig: Heracles… what level math class do you have??

Ludwig: Actually, please don't answer that.

Heracles: huh ok

Heracles: oh wait but also one more thing

Ludwig: Yes?

Heracles: well it was just that i passed by alfred he was coming out of the bathroom and seemed confused that he was at school i guess his brother finally gave him a really good vape

Heracles: it makes me want one

Heracles: alfreds brother can i please have a vap

Ludwig reacted with '❌'

Ludwig: ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!!!!

Ludwig: DO NOT VAPE

Lovino: The hell

Lovino: WHY DIDNT YOU START WITH THAT YOU SLEEPY SUBATHER OF A CRAZY CAT LADY!?

Gilbert reacted with '🤤'

Lovino: @Matthew what is he saying about that fat bastard

Lovino: Heracles what does this even mean. AND SHUT UP POTATO BREATH WHY ARE YOU STILL ANNOYING ME I HOPE YOU DIE BASTARD

Gilbert reacted with '😳'

Heracles: i dont know he just seemed confused and he came from the bathroom so i thought he was vaping in there but to be honest maybe thats not whats going on and actually that is so relatable maybe he was like that because hes becoming more like me

Lovino: ??You know he goes in there to sneak food and shit in the middle of classes right? It's so fucking disgusting.. And confused about WHAT? Knowing that idiota its probably about where the cafeteria is…

Heracles: uhhhhhhhh idk

>Replying to, Gilbert: Get it haha because…

Feliciano: OOH OOH!!💡🙋 i think! 🤔 our grandpa had a room like that in our house back in italy!!!!!📍🧭🗺️

Francis: E-e-excusez-moi???

Lovino: WHAT NO HE FUCKING DIDNT STOP SPREADING LIES YOU PASTA BASTARD

He blinked at the way that the chat had quickly gotten derailed to discussing the lore bomb that'd been dropped and making fun of 'Francis' for his faked stutter, instead of scrutinizing Greece's (Heracles's?) interaction with America harder. A problem for later— or more hopefully, literally never.

Speaking of Francis, America became aware in a split second that it had been the chosen name of France, having himself and others remark on the similarities of the names with various degrees of humor and reproachment. A few other ones also lined up with his fellow countries as well: 'Matthew' he immediately remembered was Canada, 'Ludwig' he knew was Germany because it was his handle for everything online, 'Feliciano' he realized must have been Northern Italy from his personality and familial references, and 'Lovino' Southern Italy, because he was lumped in with the other and also seemed to have a strange fascination with the word "bastard". Gilbert and Elizabeta, he could only guess at, however.

In any case, America's 10 minutes here were already starting to concern him a little. How did he leave this place?

He started to wander around.

Having never been to any form of an educational building before, he was unfortunately quite unaware about a high school's usual policies outside of the things shown in Hollywood movies, which were usually less about school life and more about boys and girls kissing. For some reason. Like he learned on the spot when caught by a hall monitor, you weren't supposed to be walking around during a class period for no reason, and America couldn't come up with the proper string of words (ie: a correct excuse) that would have probably let him roam as free as an eagle.

And so, he was deposited right back inside of Alfred's Spanish II class. He could've groaned. When he saw that the only empty seat was at Spain's table of all people, he nearly did.

"¡Por fín! You're back! Why'd you take so long with the bathroom, you know that the teacher actually makes me do my TA stuff when you're not here! I couldn't sneak peek at the group chat the whole time…" More used to interacting with the man like a nephew and his very distantly related uncle, it caught America off guard to be talked to so directly. "Sorry," was all he could unenergetically muster. Spain seemed to take up his mere presence's offer, pulling out his phone under the table. On America's front thigh came even more distracting, yet silently buzzing notifications.

To be fair, there wasn't anything to be distracted from, not even paying attention to the teacher droning on about random stuff that he'd had about half a millennium and counting to already know. Raking his eyes over his temporary classmates' faces, America wondered if Mexico was in here with the two, which would be a hilarious revelation. He craned his neck to peer over heads, which only availed to getting called out by the teacher. Slumping down in his seat, the young man just resorted to using his resources more effectively.

"Hey, um," No fuck, America didn't know Spain's human name either. Abort. Abort! "Do you know if, um…" He decided to just end his sentence right there, shying away from the other's piercing stare. "Uh, never mind." He wanted to ask after Mexico, who he was for once able to remember the name of, but… he was feeling so disheartened at all of these stupid human alternate reality things that he didn't know.

There came a touch on his shoulder. "Wait no, tell me, amigo," beckoned high schooler Spain. What a ridiculous thought. But an even more ridiculous (and better yet, funny) one was the idea of a high schooler Mexico, so after a moment or two, America finally got around to asking, "D'you know if Jesús is here— today?"

"Uh… who?"

He grit his teeth. "Are you kidding me." Well, that's not right. If Spain didn't know Mexico, then he might as well not be here at all!

…The reality was that he probably wasn't, at this point.

It was all almost too much. Weird confusing names, a terrible awful place, — he looked down at his desk— annoying BUSYWORK that if he didn't do the staff would ATTACK him (or something, to be honest he didn't really know), being at a high school totally SUCKED! America's head made a low thunk where it connected with both the table and the bone of his arm. Actually quite naturally, but to the irrational state of mind the nation was in, pretty obnoxiously, classmate-Spain once again put his hand on the blond's shoulder. When it failed to rouse him, he called his human name. "Alfred, ¡mírame! What's wrong?"

Stop talking to me! To the best of his ability, America shook his head.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go to the nurse's office?" Moody, he replied lowly, "no." He just wanted to go back to where things made sense.

After that, for the rest of the period he remained unbothered by others, save for the never ending buzzing in his pocket. In the end, he tried to rein in his emotions somewhat and look more on the bright side of things. For example, the human group chat, though alien to how America knew it, was about as equally funny as the Discord server he'd made for everyone back when COVID hit for the first time. Actually, this entire scenario was super funny. Were almost all of his nation friends here? This is clearly an American high school, so what's the deal with that? Furthermore! This kind of experience would never come again. He means, what was a day or two in this alternate reality compared to the hundreds of thousands he's spent in his actual one? That's right: nothing. By all accounts, he should be trying to make the most of the opportunity!

This, however… did not extend to completing his classwork, which he turned in blank when the bell rang. Oh well— not his problem, after all.

After the current period, America found out it was lunch. He was a little surprised to see that Spain didn't leave his side as the blond tried to follow in the high school boy's footsteps (with subtlety) (read: the subtlety of an elephant). The reason for this seemed to be because Greece and Spain had bore witness to his adjusting behavior and now not only did everyone that America could possibly recognize in this school know about it through that group chat, he was getting an upperclassman Prussia slinging an arm over his shoulder and asking "what is up, sucka!!!" while both watched him with some sort of worry. Hmm. Maybe America was starting to see England's point about how annoying every single person ever having phones was. It sure made it hard to travel dimensions in peace, is he right, or… is he right?

Okay, he'd stop. But only because he needed to focus.

"Hey dude, nothing much!" He let his mouth yap on it's own. But maybe America should come up with something. Ughhh, but it was too much work…. What would a, let's face it, definitely-quintessential American high school student epically angst about in Spanish class anyway? As though America was a computer pulling from a database, every Hollywood movie he's ever watched about high school flittered through his mind's eye. Wait… WAIT….

He's got it!

"Well actually, I'm a little sad because my cheerleader girlfriend broke up with me recently, but that's all in the past! Totally fine now, haha. Wait, is that where we get lunch?"

When America took a few paces towards the veritable buffet, it was to the sound of triplet sounds of shock. What was so surprising?

Now, the nation would admit that he's never had a romantic partner before, but in his opinion (again, from watching tropey Hollywood productions), he thought that getting a boyfriend or girlfriend was super easy— the protagonist only had to look at someone of the opposite gender long enough and suddenly they were slobbering all over each other! In much the same token, losing that partner was super common too because it would randomly happen in, like, just about every movie ever. It was totally simple math!

…His math… was… adding up, right??? Was suddenly breaking up with his made-up hottie cheerleader girlfriend not a good enough excuse?????????????

Hey wait a second, who is that extra voice in the sound track… America looked around, and behind him, he found the third and final member of the so-called "Bad Touch Trio". And what in the world was so bad about their touch? No one knew….

"Hiya France— fuck, —cis." Jesus, he'd never noticed before, but France's human name was unbelievably god-awful, what!? Whatever. He turned back to the selections of school lunch to the tune of the BTT's confused shouting, America took a carton tray and scooped up a healthy (not healthy) dollop of literally everything being served. And then he walked away, towards a table he saw claimed by other nations.

The incessant chattering of the trio never stopped, in fact seeming to get louder, though the blond didn't paid attention as to why. When he set down his tray, a shaggy head of English hair turned to mind the disturbance. Well, America wasn't actually sure how hair could necessarily be English, per say, but he meant— like— well…— it was just a turn of phrase! Point was, that's how he found himself being nagged by Arthur Kirkland (aka England) too.

Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

It all started with Prussia's bewildered, "Uh, Alfred, heheh, you know you didn't pay for that yet, right?"

Which, like, say whaaaat…?

You have to PAY??? The young adult thought in silent dismay. What the hell was wrong with this country— HIS country!?!?!? Making kids pay to eat at school? How stupid even was that??? Maybe, just maybe America was starting to see some teeny tiny pitfalls in blatantly unsocialist capitalism…. For one, he was starving, and fuck if he knew where Alfred's lunch money was supposed to be. "Well, if they just let me walk out of there already, y'know…" He lifted up a diminutive popcorn nugget to his mouth with a flippant shrug, until it was promptly smacked out of his hand by England. Arthur. Same difference. (Both would totally have done that.)

"Dude! What the…" Biting off his insults in favor of following the 5-second rule, he scooted his chair back to reach under the table, though it was unfortunately unsuccessful in blocking out Arthur's know-it-all tone. "You're going to be called into the office, fatass! Did you forget you're already on a contract because of all your absences? What exactly do you think is going to happen if you get in trouble for stealing too?"

Quickly popping the tiny morsel of fried chicken into his mouth before anyone saw, America straightened up with a casual look. Whatever happened would happen— and NOT to him. The real question was, how did he get to keep his lunch?

"Um, they would let me because I'm that amazing and cool, obviously. It's just one lunch, where's the harm in that? Lol."

"You don't have lunch money, do you."

The smirky grin fell right off of America's face into an expression that said a million words all on its own. "What…?" Didn't nerds get bullied by jocks over this? Or, wait no, maybe they were bullied FOR the money. Gigantic question mark? He didn't actually know... "Of course I do… hah."

Arthur didn't fall for his dastardly lies, standing up with an unamused look and declaring that he was going to pay for Alfred's lunch. As if taking his place, this was the moment in which a bunch of other people sat down. America blinked, recognizing the entire rest of the links in the G8, among other additions. Cap that this is ALL supposed to be the same school friend group… And yet, they all sat down at the table, pulling even more seats from the smaller neighboring social groups. Seriously, how in the world was this almost everyone that America knew well?— At this point, it's genuinely ridiculous! As people like North Italy, Japan, and even Hungary greeted the table, they directed another greeting specifically for America, asking how he was doing. He answered nondescriptedly, not bringing up the fake backstory as no one pressed (verbally, that was), until he became grilled by an incensed South Italy.

"WHAT IS UP WITH YOU TODAY!? You haven't even brought up trying to record a mukbang video yet or start singing that stupid super hero intro song you made for yourself! Well… news flash, idiot: it's STUPID, so to be honest I'm glad that you finally stopped with that goofy shit." There was a pause. "…But it's way too weird. You're too dumb to stop just because you've finally realized how much we all make fun of you for it."

"Erm," the 'awesome' Prussia (who tried to get a hero figurine merch line multiple times in his universe) attempted to interject, clearly in disagreement with the puffed-up brunette, but was practically steamrolled over. At least he didn't look super sad about it, in fact, a little pleased-seeming, for whatever reason. In his next breath, Lovino immediately confused whatever kinds of emotions the listener was supposed to feel at his words. "Kitty-bastard said that you came out of the bathrooms not knowing where you were and bastard-bastard said you were looking all mopey in class, so what gives!? You're not suddenly dying of cancer or anything, right, you burger-eating-bastard? Helloooo???" He attempted to rap America's forehead with his knuckles, but since he was so comically short, the blond easily managed to lean away.

"Who the hell is 'bastard-bastard' even supposed to be…" muttered a resigned voice, that of which belonged to a haggard and already tired-looking Lithuania, even though it was only the middle of the day.

A strange reaction overcame the American's face. The eclectic mix of grades and nationalities seated at the lunch table all felt sizable shock at seeing something they each thought was impossible: Alfred possibly rearing up to cry. His bottom lip was jut out all the way, eyebrows drawn together, eyeballs sparkling and— wow, many thought in sync— could he just dilate his irises that hugely on command?

"He really is moe," said one Kiku Honda, barely not breathy enough to stop his upperclassman friend Yao from whirling around and fixing him with a scandalized stare.

From Lovino's perspective, Alfred suddenly gained what had to be considered super strength, reaching long arms across the table in a joyous hug that dragged the Italian all the way onto it with absolute ease. The only reason it was so scary was because he had personally been witness to the monstrous, satanic foods that Alfred ate on a daily basis on this greasy hell on Earth called the United States of America— like that time he'd eaten a double patty cheeseburger with Hot Cheetos wedged in between… like, who the fuck even did that!?— and was not sure where those muscles that were mysteriously enveloping him like a teddy bear in a vacuum-sealed bag currently being shipped from Amazon could have came from. Lovino tried to fight the smothering embrace, because not being able to see or move and yet still be present for Alfred's loud as hell whining and yammering had to be breaking the Geneva Conventions somehow, but it was like banging his hand against a steel wall.

"AWWWH, YOU ARE JUST THE CUTEST HUMAN THINGY EVER!!! YOU REALLY DO CARE ABOUT ME BUT YOU'RE JUST TOO SHY TO EVER SAY IT!"

What followed next was loud, embarrassed, and what some might even call catastrophic. For their lunches that Lovino promptly kicked off the table in his scrambling. Rip.

"Aw drats..." said Peter Sealand (full first name not his last name) sadly as his plastic ice cream cup spilled along with his apple juice box. At least he still had the lukewarm go-gurt in his bag?

"S-SHUT THE FUCK UP, BASTARD! W-W-WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT EVEN FOR!? WHY'D YOU CALL ME THAT— YOU WANNA KNOW WHO'S REALLY A HUMAN THING HUH, HUH!?!" Feliciano hid behind Ludwig with a meep, thinking his brother would pick him out to bully him for being weird just like Roderich always did. Instead, Lovino's finger swiveled accusatorily onto Prussia "GILBERT-FUCKFACE-BASTARD," and then Spain "AND ANTONIO-OLIVE-OIL-DRINKING-FREAK!!!".

America had to clutch at his stomach to keep himself upright while laughing so hard. Man, that guy still does that as a human? "Dude, you're a riot. If I know anything about your funny words, I bet you still consider them your friends, though, hah? So how about it?"

Antonio practically snapped his neck to look at Lovino with a gaze so maternal it was like he personally birthed the kid and Gilbert (+Francis for some reason) jeered playfully at the prospect. The irate brunette shoved at Gilbert's kissy face, shouting, "As if!"

Then he leveled America with a glare that would possibly look murderous if not for Lovino's heavy blush. "And you didn't even answer the fuckin' question, bastardo. Why are you being like… that?"

The blond furrowed his brows. Maybe making up the backstory was good for something. "Ahah…? Ummm… it's kind of a long story…"

"IT'S A HEARTBREAKING TALE OF ACHING LOVE AND LOSS," bellowed Francis as he dramatically reared his upper body in a position to put a weeping hand to his head.

"Well, I don't know if I would call it…"

"SO TRAGIC AND DESPICABLE, NON… I SHAN'T SAY ANOTHER WORD…"

America didn't know what else to do but scratch at his cheek.

Italy Veneziano looked confused. "But— big brother Francis, don't you love gossip? I wouldn't expect you of all people to not share with us, ve."

France opened one eye from where they both used to be sorrowfully shut. "Oh, Feli… you're right! I'm way too into drama for that." He shifted to more effectively deliver his cafeteria-resounding screech: "ALFRED HAD A SECRET CHEERLEADER GIRLFRIEND THAT NO ONE KNEW ABOUT AND HE BROKE UP WITH HER!"

Two people choked on their food. One was Arthur, and Matthew's somehow mellow-sounding coughing made America aware of his existence in the seating arrangement for the first time. Said America was torn between paying attention to Poland and Hungary's hands-up, food tray-flipped, joint agony that he was somehow, by some fluke of the universe, straight, and France and England becoming an inescapable wall of bizarrely authoritative dating advice (or disappointment, in Arthur's case) where they kept acting like they were his parents— except that they were all high school teens in this universe, so to be honest, he really didn't know what gives. But America's looking was demanded of when his keen ear caught the slam of a lunch tray onto the table. Granted, practically no one but Russia and China noticed as the sound didn't carry the weight that a crack of metallic thunder could— it was carton on plastic, what did Japan expect? Maybe that said more about the high school than it did anyone else. Cheapstakes…

Hands suddenly grabbed onto his shoulders to shake them, forcefully dragging his eyes away to the riled table before him, and amidst all the yelling throughout the rest of lunchtime, America tried to assuage the reaction, yelling back "it's not that big a deal!" or "she went to a different school!", unintentionally letting Kiku slip out of the cafeteria without knowing about it. In the final minutes of everyone's break, a soft touch to his back was the prelude to his bro Canadia's worry. While clear throughout his speech that he definitely doubted the validity of the girlfriend breakup, Matthew was still bothered by his previous uncharacteristic "symptoms", trying to ease America into the idea of going to the nurse's before he had sensed where the conversation was going and put a stop to it. However, that was before he realized that Japan was gone— which was a semi-troubling realization, since the guy seemed kinda upset beforehand, and all…. A hero like America should swoop in on him and save the day!!

"Where's Jaaaa— Kiku's next class?" He said to China, who seemed to find it suspicious that he was asking. To prove he wasn't up to no good, he had to give the senior a dollar— which had been given to him by an unsure Austria that definitely didn't know what to say to him to make him go "back to normal levels of homosexual"— though, it did seem pretty counterintuitive to prove good intentions through bribery…

Anyway, learning that Japan's next class was P.E in the back field really brought America full circle to the whole nurse suggestion thing. Last time, he'd been caught since he didn't have a good excuse, but if he just said he was heading to the nurse's office…

After the bell rang, he got a note from a teacher and then meandered, trying to find a door that led to the outside field and slip past it when no one was looking. The thing was, this school was way too flipping big! This just had to be in Texas, right? Everything was almost comically large over there. "Google Maps will show me the way…" America grumbled to himself, tapping at his phone.

Google Maps in fact did no such thing, having seeing the low-poly 3D street map being entirely useless leading the young man to kick a trash can over in his indignance, realizing the sound would carry, and running away.

After finding refuge in the winding hallways, he finally gave up and did the simple thing of asking Kiku how to get to the field. Revolutionary? Uh yeah, he sure hopes he does.

Alfred: KIKUUUUU MY MANNNNN

Alfred: Kay dont be telling anyone but I got out of class and you seemed a little sad at lunch so I thought Id come see you but I think I got lost do you know how to get to pe from the east blue wing

Alfred: Its not a me problem dude I swear this school is just crazy big for no reason

Alfred: Honestly this is kind of lame for me to ask bc I kind of just ruined the surprise for you but you know

Alfred: Youll forgive me, right japan?

Alfred: BRO KIKU***** SORRY AUTOCORRECT

Alfred: Fuck

Alfred has unsent 3 messages

America cringed at his own mistake. Thank goodness he figured out how to delete messages on this wackass app. Autocorrect? Seriously? Certainly an excuse of all time…

In his boredom for the teenage Japan to reply, he scrolled up some more in their joint DM chat to see the conversation from days prior, just to get a little nosy about the life of his human self. A good idea in theory. If what he saw next didn't want to make America hurl the phone that wasn't even his into the metal lockers and use its battery as a s'mores campfire.

Kiku: *grabs you by the neck and pins you to the wall* I can't believe that you would do this to me

Kiku: Absolutely no one can know about my secret basement filled with yaoi manga and they almost got closer to the truth because of you.

Alfred: K-K-K-KEEKS MY DUDE im sowwy i.. it just came out i didnt meant to expose you 🥺

Kiku: Is that right?

Alfred: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺Pinky pwomise🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Kiku: Hm. I… erm, appreciate your extreme use of emojis, I guess…but you can do better than that. Go on, you know what to call me.

Alfred: OHHHHH RIGHT YEAH THAT THINGY THAT YOU WANTED ME TO DO AT YOUR HOUSE WHERE I PUT ON A LEASH OR WHATEVER AHAHAHA dude you better have candy somewhere bc its not even Halloween yet brah and ion know if anyone else but us will be prepared for dressing up

Kiku: If you behave as my good little doggy I'll think about it.

Alfred: WOOF WOOF WOOF OMG SAY NO MORE YES MASTER PLEASE ANYTHING FOR SOME SNICKERS BARS 🙇

Kiku: ☺️ Much better.. *pets you*

Alfred: ??????????

Kiku: What.

Alfred: Huh😶

Kiku reacted with '💔'

> Replying to, Alfred: ??????????

Alfred: NOOOOONONONO Sorry misclick!!!!‼️ Seeee what i meanttt to type wassss… OwO?

Kiku reacted with '❤️'

Alfred: ‼️

Alfred: !!!!!!!!!!!!!KIKU KIKU KEEKS SMEECH BEECH uhh uh look what i can do. :3c. SO CUTE RIGHT!?

Kiku reacted with '❤️'

Alfred: KIKU KIKU KIKU KIKU LOOK PAY ATTENTION PAY ATTENTION *i curl into your lap and start purring bc of your petting*

Kiku reacted with '❤️'

Kiku: Aww. Cute

Alfred: HAH wait actually thanks 💗 but erm BOIII WERENT WE JUST OVER THIS I THINKKKK YA MIGHT MEAN MOE BRAH CUZ WE ALL KNOW ARTHUR CHOPPED ASF BUT THAT IM THE MOE MASTER 😂🫱🫱🫱🫱🫱

Kiku: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Kiku: If you said you're purring then why not use the cat laughing emoji..

Alfred: Wha…?? Dude not even the point gosh 😕

Kiku: And that's such a problem how

Alfred: KEEKS WDYM DO U NOT THINK IM MOE SERIOUSLY IS MY JOCK WITH A SUBMISSIVE SIDE AESTHETIC JUST NOT UKE ENOUGH FOR UR SEME!?!?! 💔💔

Kiku: Alfred..can you please just let those words go oh my god..

Alfred: You betcha!! Are you not charmed by the scent of my omega slick 🥺

Alfred: Hello

Alfred: BRO THIS FREAKING TEACHER BRO DONT TAKE US HISTORY TS SO PMO 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀 I GOTTA GO NOW FOR A GALLERY WALK ABT RONALD REAGAN OR SMTH 🫩🫩 LIKE WHO THE IN THE OL MCDONALDS HAD A FARM IS THAT WHO EVEN G AN F ABOUT THAT FATTY

Alfred: But ill see u at ur house after school to do that dressup stuff yea?

Kiku: Yes, I'll be waiting………

He finished off his reading of the strangest conversation ever— flatout— with a disbelieving heave of sound muffled by his palm against his gaping wide mouth. What!!!

America's only grace period was the end; the use of the… he gulped… Republican double R-word jolted his circuit boards like someone had just dropped a gallon of water right on top of the system. Honestly, no, because he agreed. That guy was kind of a steaming load of turd? He never really understood how those lofty economic plans were supposed to work... If America was supposed to be a people’s republic, then shouldn’t money be going to the people? That boss sure was a weird one, the nation swore that now he got a bunch of stomachaches all the time after that president’s term.

The thought of his country's troubling economy did a good job at curtailing his most baffled thoughts, but currently he was just wondering if tossing around that many sexual innuendos and having them be received so… casually was normal for teenagers. Yes, everyone was always raving about teenage hormones and chemicals and substances that turned frogs gay or whatever, but that was just way too much way too easily brushed off. What the hell was with this new generation? The only thing scandalous about them was that they thought it was the funniest thing on Earth to be.

Although, America was pretty certain this version of Kiku wasn't joking around. And his human self was just… putting up with it??? Indulging in it??? BEGGING for it????????

"Literally why…" But he had an answer for it before he even finished his breath.

Yeah, let's just say… America would kinda probably totally do the same for his own Japan. Siri, end note.

The phone buzzed with a new notification, interrupting his deteriorating train of thought. In real time, Kiku had sent directions to the back fields of the school, but the message was dry and plain, with not even a question tacked on. It did worry the young man a little.

He supposed the only way to figure out what his alternate friend was thinking was to go see and him by putting one foot in front of the other. After going so long without coming across a single other adult, America grew to disregard the gaps in the lockers that signaled connecting corridors, an attitude that soon became a liability when he found his knee ramming into a fucking elephant, if those were somehow solid steel and make a shocked noise when you clutched your kneecap bruised so bad, it had blood soak through your jeans, all while hollering like a clown "SWEET JESUS TIED UP AND RAILED FOR A WHILE, OW!!! WHO THE HELL—"

Sealand. It was Sealand.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised. Only… a little put off.

"Alfred! Gee willikers, I didn't see you there, mate! Sorry…" Sealand's (Kirkland cursed) bushy eyebrows pressed close in guilt.

America's defensive curl maintained a rigid posture throughout the shifting rivets of pain across his lower body and back. "I, uh… I th-think I'm okay…." With all his wannabe hero gall, he unwounded, putting weight on his left leg, only to have it crumple under him like some late-game Jenga tower and make him fall to the ground with a resounding slap!. Worriedly, Sealand extended a hand to pull him up, but was left touching only air. America didn't take up the offer.

"Nah kid, I got this," America said, very much not yet managing to stand up. "Man, how about'chu worry about how instead of skin and bones you have metal for body parts, because my leg should not be fractured just 'cause I walked into you."

"Ah— I'm— SORRY!!! I— I, I just happen to eat a lot of… carrots, you see!! And drink tons of milk everyday, so it must be all the extra calcium, or something!"

Or something…

The nation shook the mystery off.

Finally, America felt his healing factor rev up. It worked real quick, but was currently only at the point that simply took the edge off of the sharp pain of shaken bone. Hey, but at least it wasn’t like that one time the entire limb came off and animated itself during the Civil War. Small mercies. When America found the time to take stock of Sealand's appearance, he really, really tried his best not to laugh, but let a giggly breath escape him, "Oh yeah? Well, all that milk isn't helping your height for nothin', huh? Hah! How'd they let you into high school still looking like you're twelve?"

The boy stomped his feet pelutantly. "Would you quit it with that!? It's all you ever talk about in the group chat now! And all I ever tell you is that I am, actually, a freshman because how else would I have seen that perv senior Francis talking to the freshman girl? I AM NOT TWELVE!!!"

"Oh, urh," Well. That certainly sounded like classic France. Senior talking to freshman. Classic, classic…. America was gonna tell Sealand that he could chill out with the whole looking-like-a-middle-schooler thing and that he believed him, when the younger boy suddenly launched into a shrilly rant that sounded more like mice trying to squeak coherent noises at him than any high schooler he'd ever heard talking… ever. This kid was not fourteen!

"JUST BECAUSE OTHER PEOPLE INDULGE IN YOUR FANTASY LAND WHERE YOU'RE THE HERO AND EVERYTHING'S ABOUT YOU AND YOU MAKE STUFF UP ALL THE TIME DOESN'T MEAN THAT I'LL ALLOW IT! —Err, to be frank, no one else allows it either, really. How come you're just delusional, Alfred?"

America could only gasp in genuine offense. "You…!" And then offense gave way to anger. "You…!"

Suddenly, Peter Sealand (not his last name just his name) felt a pull in his gut like something was about to go wrong if he stayed on his bathroom break for a while longer. He suddenly came to realize how… big Alfred seemed today. Not big as in fat, though the sophomore certainly ate enough for that to be the case, but taller, more defined, older, towering over Peter's cowering form and casting shadows longer than he should've. It was a little strange for someone to grow up that quickly (and boy, he sure wished that would happen to him already), but it was Monday today, so maybe it had happened over the weekend? It seemed to be a mystery.

"If— if you're going to call me too young to be in high school, then you're too unc to understand all the cool Gen Alpha stuff on Tik Tok, so the next time I drop the big Skibidi Toilet or Six-Seven you better think and choose between your dedication to saying I'm not a freshman and being cool and fresh like me!"

Alfred stared at him conspiratorially behind his glasses with eyes that didn't seem as emotional as said freshman wanted for the situation going on. Peter Sealand gulped in the persistent silence, sweat crawling down and down his neck. He couldn't take this anymore, it didn't matter what Alfred and the others had said during lunch, something was definitely up with the usually-bombastic jock!

"R-r-right-o…"

He coughed. Alfred still said nothing.

"Ermmm…"

The blond was obsessed with Tik Tok brainrot memes. Peter Sealand kicked his foot, aimlessly wondering how Alfred would survive for one week without mentioning Tung Tung Tung Sahur. "I'll just, be on my way, then… yeah…."

The wee babe of a freshman gave one last pitiful, utterly adorable look past his shoulder, only to find the opposing sophomore completely unmoved by Peter's SSS-tier puppy dog eyes. The idea was so incomputible with Alfred that he finally got more fright than disappointment out of his ongoing confusion and engaged in break-neck, life-or-death skedaddling back to class.

The hallway was clear of sound a couple of seconds more.

Then—

"What the hell's a ski buddy toilet?"

"Hey." Poke. "Hey." Poke-poke. "Hey, hey." Poke-poke-poke.

Of shyer temperament and unrelaxed words, it made sense when a creature like Kiku didn't respond to somebody verbally. However, to America, who'd worn down Japan's walls until they'd cracked (and judging by Alfred's DMs with Kiku, the same could DEFINITIVELY be said), the reaction was….. Strange. The eye contact wasn't engaged, or curious, or upturned in a close-mouthed smile. It was flickering and quick. Kind of cold.

"Uh, hello? Keeks, it's me, Alfred. Why're ya so sulky-lookin'? I told you I was coming, didn't I?"

Kiku barely glanced at where America's hand was placed on his shoulder, turning back away to face the PE coach. In fact, he even attempted to shrug it off once the blond started to shake their connection point.

This made America somewhat confused. Was what happened during lunch that bad?

"Dude, c'mon, at least look at me," he whined, but the teen ignored his plea. "What's wrong?"

America disregarded Kiku's subtle dismissals because they were just that. He knew that he'd know when he needed to back off, and now wasn't one of those times. So in the face of Kiku's continued held silence, America prodded and weaseled under the kid's thin skin. "I don't get it. If you told me the directions to get here, are you not excited to talk to me?"

Finally, the head of short black hair whirled around, giving way to brown eyes that had never looked so unsure of something in their paradoxically short life. Not confidently, exactly, but with a rigidness born from urgency, Kiku seized the blond's hand, pulling the both of them away from the inattentive teacher and behind the bleachers.

After dragging him there, the teen almost let go somewhat tenderly, heaving a big sigh as though with it, all the air could come pouring out of his body.

America watched in silence— because of who he wasn't:

"Alfred…"

Kiku drew his shoulders in, one hand on the opposite arm, face in some kind of pain.

"You… I… I'm sorry, I should have told you just to leave me alone— this isn't fair for me to tell you."

In Alfred's stead, America let himself not be fazed, "Dude, don't. Look, I won't argue. Think what you wanna think, but I know that whatever it is is… making you upset. And I want to help!"

Kiku gave a small snuffle, tiny smile conflicted. "Because you're the hero?"

America punched a fist, "HELL YEAH I AM!!!" Wait, but that wasn't really what he wanted to say. "Well that, and," without a moment's hesitation, he took Kiku's palms in his, giving them a healthy squeeze, "I care about you!" Doesn't matter the universe.

The other looked at a loss for words. His dark eyes roamed their conjoined hands quickly, brimming with the shocking sight of tears. The nation pressed again, "Keeks, what is it?"

Kiku kicked off his explanation with a choked exhale. "If… if I do tell you, you need to listen to all of it. Please. I don't want to lose our friendship because— because of my stupid, jealous heart. I know now that you probably won't feel the same, but," his lip wobbled, "that's… okay. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Kiku— you gotta chill out! I'll be careful with what you're telling me, I promise." America's brows drew together in uncertain anticipation. He doesn't get it. Why was this kid pretty much going crazy?

At the words, the high schooler hung his head low, as though gathering his strength. Then, Kiku continued after a while.

"…I have never realized this at any point beforehand. Alfred, please… I know I'm sick in the head; the first I thought of when I heard that you broke up with your girlfriend was myself, because suddenly, I… felt… such a keen sense of despair." He picked at his long sleeve. "I was jealous."

The words hung, caught in midair. Something in America's brain started churning for dear life to connect the dots.

"This moment has finally made me stop denying myself. My feelings. And so, it's unbearably true. Alfred, I… I love you!"

Somewhere inside the cranium that housed the nation of America's brain, multiple neuron cells suddenly shrugged and gave up. Blue eyes widened so far, they could pop from the simple fact of being so taut. Never in his LIFE had America ever considered—

He and Japan—

THIS WAS A POSSIBILITY ALL ALONG???

From his enstupified state, the first thing out of America's mouth came a dazed, "I thought… it was 'daisuki' or sum'…"

Kiku switched faces from bravely resigned to a disbelieving grimace in the span of a blink.

"OH MY GOD, DUDE!" The boy jumped at the crash-out and began desperately shushing America as he started to laugh uncontrollably.

"My cover is blown! 'Cause some kid confessed to me!"

Kiku reached to the blond out of instinct when Alfred smacked his hand with his forehead, feeling a pit forming at what was anything but giving a proper response to what he'd said previously. Just then, he received another surprise in the form of hands cupping his face. Kiku's heart raced. This was the moment— what words couldn't give, actions soon would—

"Listen, Keeks, this is crazy to dump on you and everything, but. I'm not Alfred. At least, not your Alfred, from this world."

Lips parted— but not in a romantic fevor, in cold electric shock.

"After what you told me, I can't keep pretending to be him, that'd just be cruel! You deserve to tell it to your own Alfred when he comes back. Huh? Dude!"

America grabbed Kiku where he'd been slipping backwards to almost fall on the ground. "ARE YOU OKAY???" The bellow nearly drowned out a weak, "Who… are you…"

"Oh." He blinked. He guessed he hadn't explained yet all the way. "Well, I'm kinda the United States of America, but you don't really have to worry about it? HAHAHA! Bottom line is that I swapped dimensions into this one where everybody I know is a high schooler, for some reason. This includes you, of course, and being that I'm at once nineteen and over four-hundred years old… I can't accept your confession… sorry. But it made me realize it's serious enough that I have to come clean— that whole cheerleader thing? I lied about it because I needed a reason for why I was acting so sus— you know, just like in Among Us! There was no girlfriend, and I'm not really 'Alfred'. Hey, but no hard feelings! I'm sure Alfred's gonna love the whole spiel! You got this! I know you do!"

"The— you're… the US… an entire nation…? How—"

"Aw c'mon! Why're you still stuck on that old business?"

America attempted his boisterous laugh that died out with a squeak come a pointed tap on his shoulder.

"Ahem…" The PE teacher, drawn by the young man's sheer volume made her prescence known behind him, cutting him off as he panickedly tried to say the rest of his encouragement and halfway-remembered courting advice from France, mangled up and barfed back out into nonsensicalness such as "make sure your flowers have lots of bees on them" before being forcibly sent to the nurse's office like he claimed he was heading to.

Of course, as America left a shell-shocked and irreversibly-changed-for-the-rest-of-his-life Kiku behind, he was going to do absolutely no such thing, but when passing through an empty hallway filled with lockers, there was suddenly a bright light, and until the white receded from his vision, he knew no more.

America was hugged once more by his tank and tied up bomber jacket around his waist, with his left arm adorned with a ride band that hadn't been there before and an ice cream with not enough toppings (solely toppings by themselves formed a tower on top of his frozen treat, however,) gripped in his right. He took a second.

"Hrm!"

Blue eyes met a row of shocked faces, clearly not expecting the uninitiated dimension re-travel.

"…I see y'all had some fun without me!"

Mexico threw down what was left of his funnel cake onto the floor. "¡PUTA MADRE!"