Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia-Axis Powers3

A/N: This has been sitting in my journal since forever... so I felt the need to post it. Sorry for the lateness.

Song: Hurt

By: Christina Aguilera

*This is wrong, isn't it?*

I love you

Who would have though that three little words could make... or break a person? When he said those three words... I didn't know how to react... I rejected him... at first. I tried to hate him. I tried to make him stop loving me, but it's just...

I don't know...

Oh God, I love you

I-I shouldn't feel this way, not for this person... not for this man. He-he raised me, he cared for me. I was techniqually his child, his son. B-but I left him, so... doesn't that make this, what we're doing... Doesn't that make this right?

Bastard, you're such an idiot... but I love you so damn much.

He does such stupid things... he does it to get my attention. Is he scared? Why would he be scared? He's always had my attention. I love him... I don't tell him that, but I do. He-he, on the other hand, tells me all the time.

...

Our love is wrong though, isn't it. We are both men. We are both devoted Catholics. So this is wrong.

But love shouldn't be wrong.

I felt so dirty. So damn dirty after our first night together... our first night being intimate. He believed I cried because I had lost my innocence, my purity. I knew I cried because I was ashamed. I am ashamed.

Why is this wrong?

THe second time we met in bed, only a few days later, I had showered right afterwards... he didn't say anything, didn't suspect anything. He simply believed I did not wish to sleep dirty, and he was right in some ways. I scrubbed my skin, my body, until I was raw. Until I could feel nothing but numbness.

This shouldn't hurt.

I always wondered how my brother could be so open about his emotions. How could he be okay being a homosexual. It's wrong. It's dirty. I guess it's just another thing he's good at.

Love shouldn't hurt.

The third time we met, I prayed. I chanted my prayers, quietly, under my breath so that he coulnd't hear me. I still felt dirty. When I bathed, long after he had fallen to sleep, I had scrubbed myself red again.

I don't deserve your love.

It was starting to become unbearable. I couldn't understand how he still went to church. I had stopped going long a while ago. How could he sleep with me, and still claim to be a good Catholic. A good man... A clean man.

Why do you torture me so?

I couldn't take this anymore. I felt so guilty, like I was betraying the one person who had his faith and love and trust in. I felt as if I were betraying God.

Is that why the first cut had felt so much like a release? The pain that came with the ones to follow had felt like total bliss. The numbness I felt during sex, the dirt I felt on my skin... it was all washed away when the blood poured out.

I think I'm making it better. Do you see?

THe cutting had become a regular thing. I did it afer we 'made love' as he like to call it. It made me feel like I was being forgiven, that I was finally doing something right. When he asked me about the cuts I'd tell him I fell outside, or I broke something and the glass broke. He always believed me.

It's easier now, isn't it? Our love is being cleansed.

He hadd noticed that I wasn't as hostile at the thought of bedding with him. He was glad, but he had noticed the sores on my arms and mid thighs. I think he might suspect something.

I still feel heavy though.

He had began notincing other differences. He said tha I was geting skinnier... that I needed to eat. I learned quickly that saying "I'm not hungry" won't make him go away... so I tell him I've already eaten. That's a lie though... it's just another thing to add to list of sins... but it was for our love, so it should be alright... right?

This, what I"m doing, it's right, isn't it?

I was doing this to make our relationship girht. To make it good, and clean. I thought that I was making our relationship okay, so why didn't he thinkg that. He told me that I was breaking our relationship, and I was hurting not only myself, but him as well. I had called him crazy.

This is right. I know it is.

You're killing yourself! He had yelled at me earlier, but that's not true... "I'm making us better." I had argued. Why can't you see that this is the only way to love you? Do you want me to feel guilt and horror everytime I look at you?

Why can't you see what I see? He had growled, and he had shook me.

Why can't you see it?

He had caught me today. He had walkied into the bathroom because I had been in there for awhile. He had taken me to a doctors office. He had told them what had happened... what was happening. They had given him odd, dissaproving looks, but had checked me anyways. They say I have a deseaes called Bulimea Nervosa and a serious case of debression. I told them they were crazy. I was just sick. I don't have problems. I told Antonio I would be better later. He chose to believe me. He didn't send me to a psychologist.

This is okay.

I didn't stop. I told him I would, but I couldn't. The pain. I had become addicted to it. I love him. I know that. So this is the only way.

I'm sorry, but this is the only way.

The doctors say I'm not getting enough nutrition. I'm sick. My immune system is weak. They say that I won't be getting better. Antonio blamed himself when they told him that I didn't have much longer. I had contracted an influenza. A bad case of the flu. Flu already kills, but there's no chance for me. Antonio won't leave my beside, but he also won't look me in the face, in the eyes.

I'm so sorry

I don't know what I did wrong. I was only doing what I thought would help our relationship. I don't know what went wrong with us, but I want you to know, Spain, Antonio... I-I love you... and I'm sorry for causing you pain. For hurting you.

I love you and I'm sorry.