A/N: I should do this more often...not update for a year and then update all at once! So much suspense!

I wish I owned these guys...

America was sitting in the dark when England opened the door. Now, this was in a random empty room in the UN New York headquarters, so it was very unexpected. England just so happened to have some unfinished paperwork due after the meeting, so he went into the random room to finish it away from all the ridiculous drama that the other nations always pulled. He never expected to find America, of all people, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, staring at a wall, in the dark.

The European just stared blankly for a few seconds, blinking to make sure this wasn't a hallucination as the American continued to stare at the wall. England cleared his throat, but the other nation still didn't acknowledge him. Finally, he turned on the lights, which caused the other man to give a totally-manly yelp of shock and fall gracelessly off the chair.

"What the bloody hell were you doing? Trying to burn holes into the wall with your eyeballs?" the gentleman snapped.

"Th' 'ell you doin' 'ere?" America drawled, reaching for his glasses that had gone askew with his fall.

"I was going to use this room to work, but instead I found you looking like someone killed your best friend and staring down a wall," England replied. The immediate response from Alfred was the look of complete horror and sadness that was shot to him. "My god, did someone really kill your best friend? I'm so so-"

"Naw, nothing like that. Just a lil' sad. Kinda weird, too. Sorry it bothered you," with that, the nation zoomed out of the room, leaving a bewildered England and a bloodied knife, strangely enough.

Of course, England just put that in his "America-being-very-weird" file of memories. But, he never thought it meant anything.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! You forgot the knife!, America mentally bashed himself for leaving the weapon with England. He had been so preoccupied in not letting the older nation see his wounds without the bandages that he dropped a clue. A FREAKING CLUE!

But, England wouldn't care. His sweet, beautiful Arthur wouldn't give a damn, because Arthur didn't give a damn about him. He told him so at least twice a day. Maybe he would just leave the knife be and pretend it wasn't there. Or maybe he wouldn't notice.

Yes, he wouldn't notice. He never notices

It started probably at the end of World War II. Everyone was celebrating, the Axis too, just because the war was over. All the nations were in the main headquarters of the UN in NYC, except their massive table was gone, music was blaring, and there was no arguing. Just whoops of joy and the thrum of heartbeats that were finally aligned as one.

America had set up this mother-of-all-parties in hopes of keeping everyone in good feelings. He was walking around, true happiness finally flowing through him, where he had taken off his mask. His mask then was thin, he was not nearly a sad as he is now. He does not feel the need to breakdown and sob every day, no, he just feels as if the world doesn't like him.

He takes a sweeping look at the crowd, looking for a certain Englishman he needed to deliver a very important message to. He spotted him in the farther corner with France, whom he was talking to. Alfred smiled and started towards them, until he heard what they were talking about.

"...AND FOR THE LAST GODDAMNED TIME, NO, I DON'T LIKE ALFRED, I DON'T HAVE ANY INTEREST IN THAT STUPID, IDIOTIC, BRAINLESS OAF OF A NATION!"

"Oui, but I waz just wondering-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF THE QUEEN, DON'T EVEN TALK OF THAT ANNOYING, SELF-CENTERED, PATHETIC GIT! I HATE HIM ALMOST AS MUCH AS I HATE YOUR GODDAMNED FACE! ALMOST AS MUCH AS I HATED THE NAZIS! NOW SHUT UP!"

America just let his jaw hit the ground as the world swam in his vision. England...England...England...why...? Before he knew it, he was sobbing in the kitchen, huddled in the corner, knees pulled up to his chest. No one was looking for him, of course, the world hated him. That's when he decided to wear his mask. He was the hero, dammit, he wouldn't be seen breaking down every day.

He went to a therapist to get some advice and a prescription for antidepressants. They helped, a little, but he still was very sad. He didn't cry anymore, though. He would just stare at the wall and cut himself, letting his arms cry blood instead of tears.

"Has anyone else noticed America acting weird?" England asked early one G8 meeting, before America's I-was-just-fashionably-late-and-just-got-in time came. All the other nations looked at him strangely.

"Vhat do you mean by that?" Germany asked, "This is not a topic of discussion today."

"I know that," England responded, "But...it's just that...I found the git in one of the extra rooms, staring at a wall in the dark. That doesn't even seem normal for him."

"Ve~Why was he-a doing that-a?" Italy chirpped, which sent a murmur of agreement through the nations.

"Well, maybe 'e 'as not been 'aving it lately..." France, very soon after this statement, was slapped in the face by the gentleman.

England sighed as the Frenchman got back up, rubbing his cheek. "It can't be that. He also left this there," England then drew out the one piece of evidence that sent him over the edge. A bloody knife.

Everyone recoiled at the sight of the knife. It brought back memories for all of them, but it also left a very vile notion in the air. Whose blood was that?

The knife was tossed into the center of the table as the other nations began discussing what the heck it was about. Some thought he had murdered someone, some that he was just cutting tomatoes or something, there was even the thought that he had actually been stabbing himself. LIke he was depressed or something. But, the others easily dismissed this thought. Surely one as happy as him couldn't be depressed, right?

"*Ring* *Ring* *Ri-Hello, this is Matthew."

"Hey, bro."

"Oh, hi Al. What's up?"

"Can I borrow your old knife?"

"My emotional one? Why?"

"You know why. I dropped mine and I really don't want to go back and get it...ya know, just in case."

"You sure, Alfred? Why don't you just ask him if he hates you?"

"Mattie, he tells me at least 3 times every day I see him, how could he not hate me?"

"But, bro-"

"Can I borrow it? Until the coast is clear for me to get mine? It sucks having to use the kitchen silverware, I'm having to wash them more often. Plus, you aren't using it still, right? You've got Gilbert now, you lucky bastard."

" -sigh- Yes, you can borrow it. I'll give it to you tomorrow at the meeting."

"Oh my god, Mattie, you're a life saver...er...well...you get what I mean."

"Yes, Alfred, I get what you mean. I love you, so don't take it too far."

" -harsh, humorless laugh- You're the only one."

"A-"

" *Beep* *Beep* *Beep*-"

" -sigh again- I wish England would notice what he was doing to you, Alfred."

"Hey, hey, guys! The Hero's here! Let's get this party started!" America yelled as he kicked the door down with his totally unnatural strength. The other seven nations jumped and England tried to collect the knife off the table, but it was already too late.

"Whose knife is that?" America asked, causing a great silence in the room.

"Eh...It is not yours, America-kun?" Japan asked, a little unsure.

"Pfft, 'course not," the teen replied easily, causing all the others to look around guiltily. Except for one.

"If you say so, Mr. Hollywood," England growled.

America's head snapped in his direction and responded with another growl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know bloody well what it means, twat!" England spat, "Who's blood is that?"

Suddenly, the younger nation got very jittery. "Um...Ooh, I forgot my suitcase! I'll be back!