America? Who?

A Memory from the Past

Edit: Author's POV

Alright so some of you were kind of confused with this chap but this chap is not in the same time as the last chapter ;-;  This chap is actually from America's original world where he exists. The timeline is from his past. I'm sorry that it confused you so much... ╥﹏╥

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"F***"

Alfred cried out in pain when he accidentally shot himself near his stomach due to his stupid anxiety, blood slipping from the new wound that he had once again embedded on himself.

Ok. It wasn't what he had planned but it helped his plan to make his fellow nations believe he didn't do it because why would he do this to himself, right? They always know that Alfred would never do this to himself, he's America after all!

He quickly shove the gun away from him and laid down on his own blood.

He wasn't depressed. He wasn't depressed. He wasn't depressed, he wasn't-

Suddenly, a door slammed wide open. "ALFRED!!! OH MY GO- WHAT THE BLOODY HELL JUST HAPPENED!!!" England ran to his aid and pressed his palms unto the wound which prompted Alfred to hiss loudly.

"N-Nothing, I just-" He took a painful deep breath as Arthur revealed a disinfectant from his drawer just beside them. "I-I almost got mobbed." He lied and winced when more rapid footsteps came to their direction and prayed hopelessly that they wouldn't see the scars he purposely carved into his skin. They already found out about his obesity, he can't let them see more behind his mask.

"Mobbed!? In this very floor that most likely doesn't have anything much valuable things other than chairs and drawers!?"

"Y-Yea-" Alfred gasped and quickly took Arthur's wirst in his hold which made England stare at him worriedly, "Alfred, I have to take that bomber jacket off of you so I can have more access of your wound, alright?"

'No you can't! Please, you can't see my body, you can't see what I have done-'

"N-No. I'm fine-"

"Bloody hell you are. You need medical attention-"

"What in the world happened here, aru!?" China exclaimed, taking his bag off and immediately running towards them. Soon enough, Canada, Belarus, Russia and France came.

"The bloody twat won't let me help him patch himself up!"

"Maybe you're doing it all wrong."

"No I did not! Help me take off his jacket, the bloody thing probably wasn't washed in days!" Arthur huffed.

"No!" Alfred yelled causing everyone to look at him in confusion. He sighed. "I'm fine dudes, I've survived something much worse than this; and for the record, I do know how to fix myself." He grumbled as he shakily tore his shirt while cursing under his breath and wrapped it all over from his wound all the way to the back and back to the front, quickly tying it up. "So thanks! Buuut no thanks." Alfred forced a smile and waved them all away, wishing that they can sense his desire to be alone.

Russia narrowed his eyes and frowned, "I don't think that kind of act will ever erase my continuously suspicion over your action from the last meeting, America." Without a glance to the others, he raised a hand and slightly moved it back and forth. China's concerned eyes softened and quickly yet quietly telling everyone to leave. They did until all that was left in the room were the Cold War couple and the Belarusian who refused to leave.

Russia strolled slowly towards the golden nation and sat beside him, not minding the blood around them. Alfred looked away and shook his head. "It's not what you think, Vanya."