Warning/s: Self harm

America's P.O.V. I can't believe he never told us! Today was his birth day... From all people to hear it from...France... I was walking there right now in fact. I knocked on the pasty white door of his house, but all I managed to hear was "FUCK." I flung the door open and closed it back, just before racing up the stairs. England was in the floor of the bathroom trying to clean up the blood that was still flowing from his wrists; the weapon that caused it still sitting on the counter. He looked up at me face contorted with fear. "W-What are you doing here, America?" He was trembling, and personally I don't blame him. I sat the present I bought for him down and dropped to my knees so I could look him in the eyes.

"Why?" My voice cracked and I was on the verge of crying. He broke down first. As he sobbed into my shoulders, I ran water over his cuts and wrapped them up. Not a single word was spoken between us. We ended up sitting on his Uk themed bed, him sitting on my lap, head against my chest. Honestly it felt nice.

"Promise me something England." He opened his tired eyes and turned to look at me. "Don't ever, EVER do that again." I started stroking his shaggy blonde hair, and he pushed back into my hand.

"Why do you care you left me anyways." I didn't say anything. I grabbed him by the his and drug him forwards until our lips were touching. They were surprisingly soft and he tasted like Earl Grey tea. I pulled away and gently pulled up his wrists.

"You should have never done it." I kissed the first cut, "Beautiful." Second one, "Kind" Third, "Intelligent. Determined. Self-concious. Careful." And as I reached the last one, "Perfect." He looked like he was about to cry. I placed my fore head against his looking into the emerald orbs I was all too familiar with. "Mine." I kissed him yet again and I could feel him smiling the whole time.