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Infinity (USUK)

Arthur's POV:

It's been another long night for me.

I've missed the country I once called my little brother. I miss the nights where he would stay and sleep with me. He would even do that when he was older and bigger than me, and he would hold me in his warm embrace.

I miss the days where we would talk. It didn't have to be about our countries, but we would just talk about life.

I miss him in general. He would always talk to me to cheer me up when France was being an asshole. He would always hold me, and make me feel loved.

And then the war came. I have no idea what happened. He just, just said he needed to leave and be free. He said I was holding him down. He even pointed a gun at me! He didn't care. He left me there, crying, pleading for him to stay, because he was the only thing that made me happy.

With him gone, I fell into a deep state of depression. France was still messing with me. He refused to talk to me. He wasn't there to comfort me anymore.

I only fell deeper and deeper. It got to the point where I've started turning to a new form of comfort: cutting.

I know cutting is only the cowards way out, but maybe I am a coward without him. Maybe I'm unworthy of being a country without him. I wonder if I could marry someone, and give then my country. Then I can die. Die, and never have to worry about him again, because he is the strongest country in my opinion.

Yes, I'm gay. It's very hard not to be when you're surrounded by only males. Yes, I fell in love with America. I will admit it, he was my younger brother, but apparently I've been disowned by him.

I start to realize I've been crying. I get up to grab a tissue, when my phone starts to ring. It's America. "No, not now America. Not now, not ever," I say. But I seem to not be able to stop my shaking hand pressing the answer button on my phone. "Hey Arthur. I'm glad you answered," he immediately said in a serious tone.

Why is he being serious? He's never serious, unless it's to disown me.

It takes everything in me to muffle the sob I get when thinking about that, and I end up getting a razor instead of a tissue.

I have the urge to cut, and I hate it. I've started and I can't stop. It takes away the mental pain.

I end up cutting while he's talking. "I just wanted to say sorry for ignoring you. I wish you would just talk to me. I really miss you and-" "No America! It's too fucking late for that. You l-left, just left me here to rot!" I interrupt. Fuck. Shouldn't have said anything. In my rant I realized I ended up cutting really deep. "Fucking razor!" I shout. I forgot he was still on the phone. "IGGY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He shouts.

Damnit.

"I-I was sh-shaving," I answer, now shaking heavily. "England, you and I both know you don't shave. now answer me with the truth. What were you doing with that razor?!" He shouts. I start to freak out. Damnit, he can't know! He'd make me get help, or think so low of me.

I start to yell at him. "You think you can just barge back into my life?! This doesn't concern you, or it concerns you more than you know. This is all your fault! You've made me a coward! Can't someone just take my country so I can die in peace?"

I don't hear anything for a minute or two, and then I realize what I said. He knows.

I start freaking out when I hear something barge through my door. "Why all in one night?!" I scream while sobbing. I start huddling in a corner crying, out of the pool of blood I've made. I suddenly feel the lights turn on, and someone gasp. I recognize that voice. America.