Ugly

A/N: ERMAHGERD YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BAD OF A BLOCK I'VE BEEN HAVING! SO- I am going to start posting stories I wrote in the past after editing them. :) ENJOY TEH SHOW!

WARNING: This story has notes of depression, suicidal thoughts, self-hurting, and Hetalia OCs. If any of those make you feel uneasy or you just don't like them, turn back now and don't complain in the reviews.

Disclaimer: I'm only playing in the world's sandbox. I do own the personifications, but not the cities themselves.

-(1st person POV)-

I looked at myself in the mirror and hate flowed through my veins.

"Look at you," I said to my reflection, "You are absolutely hideous. Why would anyone love you?! You're fatter than both the damn Americans COMBINED! How did this happen?!"

I threw a fist at my mirror, shattering the image of myself. A shard of my mirror had gotten lodged in my hand, causing slight discomfort to me.

I pulled said shard from my hand and plunged it into my wrist.

"Go away," I murmured, "Go away... Go away... GO AWAY!"

I felt myself begin to sob uncontrolably as I pressed the glass deeper and deeper into my flesh. The deep crimson blood in my veins ran over my arm, droplets staining my jeans.

"Why won't it go away?" I cried, "Why won't the hate and fear go away? Am I not using something sharp enough? Maybe it would do better..?"

I reached my hand up and felt around on my dresser, getting smaller shards of glass stuck in my hand. I curled my fingers around its wooden handle and smiled slightly.

"There you are," I mumbled, pulling it down, "You know, it's sort of funny how you're always in reach when I need you, my friend." I ran my thumb over the blade and drew a thin line of blood, "And after all these years you've kept as sharp as the day big brother made the awesome you for me. I'm glad that you'll be here when everything finally is over, and you'll be here for my brothers when I'm not..."

I felt my heart-beat quicken as light danced along the blade. It was beckoning to me, almost begging me to use it.

Just one last time? A voice whispered in my head, Please, friend? Make it as messy as you can. I don't want you to go out in silence. Make a big mess for your brothers...

I looked at my knife and raised it.

"Please," I said, crying, "Please work. Please don't lie to me, please don't let me hang on. Please, I can't take it anymore!"

I plunged the blade down, aiming for my mutilated wrist. I prayed that I wouldn't miss, and that an artery would be struck, quickly ending it all.

What was really only seconds turned into minutes. I heard a door open somewhere in the house, followed by foot-steps. Then, when my blade should have hit and all should have faded, a form clung to me, holding me tight. My knife became lodged in the form, and whoever it was didn't seem to mind. They voiced no complaint.

"Berlin," The person said, "Berlin, what are you doing?"

I recognized the voice and shoved him away. It was Moscow.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said, looking away from him, "Damn Russian..."

I heard his coat drag across the carpet as he tried to get closer.

"Berlin," He said again, "Please, tell me, what's wrong?"

"You!" I yelled, facing him in anger, "You and that damn brother of yours! You two and that damn wall is what's wrong with me! Do you know how fucked up I was after it fell? Do you know how many damn nightmares and terrors I had after the wall? Do you know how many times I would fall to my knees screaming in broad daylight, scaring the living daylights out of my brothers? No! You don't! All of that FEAR and PAIN has stayed with me throughout the years, driving me to tactics like this for release!"

I began to sob, my chest aching furiously. I looked at him and saw an odd emotion in his blue eyes- He was sad. No, not sad, he was hurt.

"I, I didn't mean to," Moscow said, his voice quivering, "I really didn't, honest Berlin. I was forced to by Big Brother. I'm so sorry I caused you so much pain..."

I was stunned. After what happened to me, I thought all Russians were the same- Hateful, spiteful, bitter, demonic. I thought that they were incapable of things like love and joy, but seeing Moscow so broken and hurt like I was, something in me suddenly changed.

I scooted towards him and placed a hand on his.

"R-really?" I said, looking for sincerity in his eyes.

"D-da," He said, looking back at me, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to-"

I hugged him close, causing him to falter mid-sentence.

"Don't apologize," I said, "You did nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, owe you an apology. I'm really sorry that I assumed all Russians were like your brother."

"It's, it's okay, Berlin," Moscow said, hugging me back, "I forgive you."

I smiled warmly at him, and sighed.

Suddenly I pulled away, looking at my wrists. Blood still oozed out of them, and the smudges along my untouched flesh showed what I feared- I had bled on Moscow.

"I am so sorry," I said, "About your jacket, that is. I can wash it and hopefully remove the-"

Suddenly lips were pressed to mine, making me blush feverishly. Moscow pulled away, a warm shade of red on his own cheeks.

"You don't need to do that," He said, "And I apologize for that. I just, I couldn't help myself..."

"It's okay," I said, "But I should be apologzing to you."

"What for?"

"For making you think I'm worth a kiss..."

Moscow tilted his head like he was my dog Aster.

"What do you mean?" He said.

"You kissed me," I said, "And I look like a pile of Aster-shit. I'm hideous..."

"No you're not, Berlin. You are very beautiful. You make me weak in the knees with your smarts, your talent, and your eyes."

"One-third of what you just said isn't a physical quality I possess..."

"Beauty comes from within, don't you agree?"

I looked at the blonde and felt tears well up in my eyes.

"Y-you really think that?" I said.

He nodded, uttering a soft 'da.'

I hugged him tight once more, realizing that what he had said was true.