Story: Beneath the Mask, Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...

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America and England had walked to America's house from the meeting place, and since it wasn't that far from the meeting place, it didn't really take long to get there.

However, even in that short amount of time, England couldn't help but notice America's silence, save for the occasional comment every now and then, which was quite obviously just to fill up time.

Once they'd got in, they were immediately, and, in England's case, unwelcomingly greeted by America's alien friend, Tony, and England and him began glaring daggers at each other right away. America then studied them, remembering the last time they had 'associated' with each other. Needless to say, several things had got burnt by the time it was all said and done.

America finally sighed, as he walked over, whispering something to Tony that was too low for England to hear. All he knew was that Tony simply nodded, shortly after leaving the room.

"Hey, can you find the guest room on your own?" America suddenly questioned, quickly receiving a look from England. "'Cause I really need to take a piss. Don't worry, I'll be right back."

When America ran off was when realization hit the Brit.

"H-hey!" hey started to call after him, but before he did, he'd already left the room. He sighed.

"Geez, doesn't that wanker know any manners...?" he muttered in irritation, but at the same time, slight amusement.

He then slowly made his way to guest room, taking some time to scan over the many pictures that filled the walls. Most of them had America in them, and other nations, such as Italy, Romano (which he couldn't help but wonder how he could've possibly managed to get him, of all people, in a picture), Japan, several of the Frog (meaning France), and...what's his name again...? Canada? Yeah, that was it.

He somehow found himself feeling a little guilty, when he saw that there were even more pictures of Tony and America than himself and America. Even though, there was one, it was very old, and was back from America's colony days. As hard as it was to say it without causing himself to sulk, he still wished America and him could be have been closer. It wasn't like he enjoyed getting in arguments with him all the time. Well, it wasn't like he could fully bring himself to blame the American, as he, himself, constantly just spat insults at him, France, and almost anyone else who crossed his path.

"Bloody hell..." he muttered, giving a somewhat sad smile, as he placed a hand over his forehead. "I'm going to get myself depressed again... Sigh. I should probably go on to the guest room now."

Within a minute, he'd found it, remembering where it was from the last time he'd came over, which he had to admit was quite a while.

Meanwhile, unknown to the Brit, America stood in the bathroom, studying himself in the mirror.

"Man, this is so unfair..." he grumbled, holding a hand over what he still considered to be 'fat', even after all the weight he'd lost in the past couple of months. Being a nation, naturally, he could go a lot longer without food, before he started to lose weight. There were limits, yes, but they weren't really considered much, not that he fully understood them anyway.

"Why can't I be naturally skinny like Japan, France, or even England...?"

As much as he hated to admit talk about it, he'd always secretly envied some of the other nations, and how they were able to go places without the fear of people insulting them over their 'eating traits', weight, or anything to do with their body in general.

None of them knew it, but the reason he'd missed the last few meetings was pretty much due to not eating. The first few weeks had been the hardest, being used to 'stuffing his face' and all, but in total, it had taken about two months to completely get used to not eating much more than half an apple a day or sometimes, nothing at all.

Then that began...

The nations were always insulting him and putting him down. They constantly made fun of him every chance they got, even the ones he considered to be like family. Every one of them seemed to hate him, despite everything he'd done for them, or at least tried to do.

Useless

Capitalist Pig

Fat

Lazy

Stupid

Idiot

Self-centered

Spoiled Brat

Nosy

Annoying

Obnoxious

The list of insults went on and on. America took a moment to look down at his newly bandaged wrist, before slipping his bomber jacket back on to cover it up. He couldn't help but feel ashamed when he glanced over at the once bloody pocket knife, slipping it back into his pocket.

He'd knew cutting wouldn't make the pain completely go away, and it made him felt weak, but...the other nations hated him, and would be happy to see him in such a depressing state. It always seemed to lighten up their day, at least a little, when he was sick or hurting. As idiotic as it may sound, all he wanted was to actually feel like he was wanted and needed, even it meant causing himself to bleed. There were voices that kept telling him that he was doing everyone a favor by hurting himself; that he somehow deserved it. Not only that, but after all things felt he'd done to some of the nations, he just couldn't seem to forgive himself.

Down deep, it made him sick to say it, but in someways, it actually did feel good. Sometimes, he'd find himself unable to just 'let go', and would end up reaching for the knife once again. What was saying? He hated cutting. He hated it, so why did he continue to do it? Was he addicted...?

Well, it didn't really matter either way, as it wasn't like it could kill him or anything. He was a nation, after all. There's no way he could just die, right...?

With that question in mind, he suddenly remembered that England was waiting on him, so, putting on his 'idiotic grin', he left, quickly making his way to the guest room.

~ End of Chapter

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A/N: What did you think...? Sorry. It's way out of character. It's kind of hard to really completely picture a 'suicidal' America, as he just doesn't seem to be the type to really give in to emotional crap. But at the same time, America is supposed to be one of the youngest nations on the show, meaning he would be fairly naive, compared to others. Whenever I think about all the wars, and betrayals that directly and indirectly involved America, it surprises how he can still smile and be so happy all the time, which makes you wonder just how happy he really is. Anyway, just to let you all know, I'm probably going to bring in Japan sometime throughout the story, seeing how close they are. I don't know if any of you read my other story 'Sticks and Stones', but it pretty much uses the same concept (save for the cutting), and has lots of development between Canada, America, France, and England, plus some fabulous moments with Japan and America. Since this is more centered on England and America, however, I plan to use only a portion of that 'comfort level' with Japan and America...

Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter okay, there WILL be better ones to come. I promise.