\{💙Break Up Blues💙}/

Chapter I

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The sky was pink, like cotton candy. As the sun started to set, a warm, golden glow soaked the land.

Walking up the path was a father of four lively boys, all of them walking behind him, following in his stride. "Daaaaaaad." One boy groaned. The father tilted his head to the side, listening.

"What's for dinner?"

"Food, America. . ."

"I know, but WHAT food?"

The father sighed tiredly.

"I'll think of something. . ."

Opening the front door, an ominous air settled around him, an unease that clung like a shadow.

"Upstairs, now," Britain directed his children, emerald green eyes reflecting concern.

"But, dad-"

"Now!" They hastily ascended, leaving the air thick with tension.

Navigating the halls, Britain felt an instinctual pull toward the kitchen. There, France sat at the dinner table, his wavy hair a striking blend of blue, red, and white, sapphire eyes holding an unusual sternness.

"Where have you been?" His voice sliced through the air, a cold edge to his words.

With a wearied sigh, Britain replied, "Just picked up the kids, as usual. . ." He then raised an eyebrow at France. He set his keys down with a jingle. "Why?" France crossed his legs, sitting back in his chair. "It's just- it doesn't usually take that long. . ." Britain put on the kettle, his back facing the other. "Well," He said while taking a tea cup from a cupboard. "America's teacher wanted a word with me about his grades. How he's doing better-" Britain jumped, dropping the cup with its dry contents when a bang came from behind him. France was becoming visibly irritated.

"Utter bull shit!"

"Excuse me?"

"We all know (America) is the top student! Why would his teacher need to tell you how 'better he's been doing'!?"

"France-"

Another bang. France had slammed his hands on the dining table, standing up from his chair.

"Love- calm down. . ."

Britain made to hold France's shoulders when he was grabbed and shoved into the counter. "France! What are you- AGH!"

France threw the other back, hearing as the chairs scattered. "Tell me-! Where you were." France breathed. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to calm himself down. "I'm telling you-!" Britain gasped. "I was in a meeting!" The kettle clicked in the back, now being forgotten about. "I would never leave without telling you in the first place!" Britain leaned back against the scew table, keeping his distance from France.

His lips curved in, and his green eyes darted around the room, watching.

"I don't believe you!"

"How can you not believe me!? Go ask America then!"

"They are not a part of this, Britain. This is between you and me-"