all the other stuff only cemented it

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“England, wait–!” America called after the nation’s back.

The man in question turned on his heel with a scowl, eyes venomous. “What for what? You’ve already said enough. I understand.” He told him, voice stern and clipped. “I’m nothing to you, so just leave me alone.”

America balked. “You know that’s not what I meant– wait, damn it!”

A hand snagged England’s shoulder and he threw it off, this time livid as he spun to meet apologetic blue eyes. “Get off of me! Don’t touch me!”

He was immune to the flash of hurt on America’s face, shoving aside all thoughts of sympathy. His position was only cemented when the other nation’s expression quickly changed to indignant. “Gee, and here I am trying to be nice!”

“You should have thought of that before you spouted off rubbish to the entire assembly.” England bit back caustically, very willing to stand his ground on this one. “I don’t go announcing embarrassing little secrets about you, do I?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” America yelled back defensively, agitated now. How many times did he have to apologize before England just accepted it already? “I wouldn’t have said any of that stuff anyway if France wasn’t being France.”

“Yes, blame it on France! It’s all his fault, isn’t it!?” England spat, bristling at America’s lack of maturity. He sounded like a small child, trying to shift the blame like that.

“Well it is!” America protested.

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