Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
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He was alone, in his bed, in his house, with no one he cared about around him. So he let his real self show. He cried and screamed and curled into a ball to fight the pain. He felt himself splitting apart – figuratively, however, he wondered when it would become literally. He brought a hand up to his mouth and bit into his knuckles until blood was drawn. Tears streamed down his face, onto the sheets beneath him.
It hurt. It hurt so bad and he didn't know how to make it stop. For good. He bore the weight of both the people of North and South Korea. Him? He was just Korea. So he couldn't handle both of their pain, both of their losses, both of their conflicts. He screamed as pain flashed through his chest and head. They were going to kill him. His own people were going to kill him by fighting each other.
Why didn't anyone notice the harm this caused him? China – his hyung-nim – had sided with North Korea … the part of him that hurt the most and changed his mental state the most. His tears fell faster. Why? Why had China done that? Where was the logic?
He couldn't even remember when the pain stopped. When the pain went away, it was for such a short time that he never even noticed it was gone. It was with him at all times of the day, of the night. But no one else noticed. So he pretended he was as he'd always been: silly, a little dumb, immature. That was his South Korea side.
His North Korea side was brutal, wanted to take South Korea and merge them together. He feared the day this would happen, if at all. It was his North Korea half of him that fought inside of him the most. The people there – God, the people there were scared, were hurt, wanted help but none has been given.
He stumbled through his pain-filled haze to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. He sneered at his reflection. Pitiful. Look at him, tearing apart. And whose fault was it? The Allies. China. Japan. The Allies talked big but did nothing. China was practically under his control, whether the other knew it or not, and yet China didn't know what he was capable of. Japan had taken him, controlled him, hurt him, and then come to him, pleading for forgiveness? His eyes darkened. He has nuclear weapons. Why not use them? Gain a little land, gain a little respect.
He gasped. His eyes widened. Tears once again fell. No, no! What had he been thinking? He hated war. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Not when they'd hurt him so much already –
But they didn't mean to.
They haven't done anything to help, either.
This wasn't their problem, anyway.
He should use this to his advantage and attack!
What about his family?
Family meant nothing anymore, as Japan so nicely showed him.
He gripped his head and leaned heavily against the wall. No, no, he had to focus! He had to get control of himself! But which part of him was the one in control? He didn't know anymore. They both had equal power over him. Which one was he going to become?
He felt like he was being pulled down two roads. His South Korea side wanted to be peaceful. His North Korea side wanted to wage war. Both wanted to reunify as one Korea – but under which government? Could he really handle it? Did it even matter?
He didn't have any say, anyway. It was up to his people – his dumb, stupid people, just like him – to figure out which half was going to be in control. He'd waited for years for one half to dominate the other. It hadn't happened. He was being torn into two, painfully, just waiting for his mind to go down a set path as made by the dominant government.
He was tired of waiting for his fate. He reached blindly for his razor blade.
He was going to make his own path.
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This is only meant to be a tiny bit historically accurate. I don't know much about the Korean War or about the state either country is in now. I mean no offense and was simply writing how I saw Yong Soo would take it.