A/N: I hope anyone who bothers to read this will enjoy.

XxXxX

The World Meetings were always the same. Someone would begin a speech that would lead to disagreements, and then tons of arguments would break out among the nations. Afterwards, there'd be someone, usually Ludwig, who'd break up all the fights by yelling very loudly. The World Meeting today was lasting longer than it should, though. They had been there since afternoon, and it was almost around dinner time now. They soon decided to just have dinner during the meeting. So some of the nations whipped up some food for everyone, and then they all continued the meeting as they ate.

America is sitting next to England, who, as he notices, isn't eating, but instead just staring at his food as if it were an alien.

"Yo, dude, how come you aren't eating? This stuff tastes great!" He stuffs some more of Italy's pasta into his mouth, smiling happily.

England rolls his eyes. "I'm just not hungry. Got a problem with that, you git?" America didn't answer. He just kept eating his food.

England looks back at the food in front of him. It did look tempting.

I guess a few bites won't hurt...

He starts eating. The food tastes delicious, yet... it wasn't making him feel good. He guesses that's to be expected since he hasn't eaten for a while. After a couple more bites, he finds himself unable to eat anymore. In fact, he feels sick now.

I need to get rid of this feeling...

He abruptly stands up from the table and leaves the room. No one bothered asking him where he's going. They were too busy eating, discussing problems, or arguing with other nations.

America soon finishes his plate of food. That's when he notices that England is missing.

I wonder if he had to go to the bathroom...

Suddenly, a bad feeling settles itself inside of him. He doesn't know where it came from, though. He was feeling happy just a few seconds ago, so he's very confused as to why he feels like this all of a sudden.

Maybe I should get some fresh air.

He leaves the table and heads out of the room. He begins walking down the long hallways, taking in deep breaths of air, trying to get rid of this bad feeling he has. It doesn't work. It just gets worse as he walks around. He soon finds himself outside the bathroom. He wasn't even thinking about going there, but he somehow found the place.

I might as well go in...

As he opens the door, that sinking feeling immediately gets worse. He hears a weird sound coming from one of the stalls. He doesn't know what it is at first, but then he realizes that it's the sound of someone throwing up.

Without thinking, he throws the stall door open. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him.

England was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, throwing up. He also had two fingers down his throat.

W-What the hell...?!

At the sound of the door opening, England turns his head around to see what was going on. He looks visible shocked when he notices that America's standing in the doorway of the stall he's in, but he immediately changes his expression to that of annoyance.

"What's with that face?" he snaps.

At first, America couldn't speak. He was too dumbfounded. After a few moments, he finds the strength to speak again.

"I-I... Y-You... England... were you...?" Even so, he was still too much in shock to speak correctly. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Yeah, I was throwing up. But only because my stomach wouldn't digest the food."

Liar. He's obviously lying. America knew that England was purposely throwing up, not because the food wasn't right. He saw how England had his fingers down his throat. He saw everything.

England got up and passed him.

"Now if you'll excuse me..." Just as he walked by the American, his wrist was suddenly grabbed. He was yanked backwards and then pushed against a nearby wall. He was pinned against the wall by his wrists on each side of his head, keeping him from escaping if he even tried to.

He glares at the American. "What the bloody hell are you doing?!"

America's grip on his wrists tightened a little as he glares back at the Brit. He was angry that England had lied straight to his face like that. But most of all, he was worried. He didn't know why England was doing this. He didn't know how long England had been doing this. He didn't know anything about this until now. He was scared for the nation. He doesn't know too much about this kind of stuff, but he does know it's unhealthy. He knows that something bad could happen if England keeps doing this, despite being a nation.

"England... Don't you even try to lie to me... I... I saw what you were doing..." America's thankful that his voice is back.

England's glare falters a little and he looks away. He didn't want to look America in the eye. He didn't want to see the emotions that are plaguing the American, whether it was sadness, anger, or pity.

"England... how long have you been doing this?"

England squeezes his eyes shut. No. He doesn't want to tell America that. He doesn't want the American to know anything about this.

"England..." America says in a sharper tone. "How... long...?"

England knows there's no way out of this now. America knows now. There's no point in hiding anymore.

He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. Still avoiding eye contact with America, he mutters, "Almost a month..."

His wrists are freed and suddenly there's a banging noise. He looks over at America and sees that he had punched the wall.

"America..."

There are tears rushing down the American's face. America tries to hide them by covering his face, but it doesn't work.

"Dammit... Dammit, why?! I... I can't believe this... I-I should've noticed something was wrong. I'm the hero, right?! I-I'm so sorry, England... I'm sorry..."

England can feel his own tears running down his face. He walks over to where America now is and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"D-Don't worry about it. It's fine, so—"

The front of his shirt is grabbed and he's pulled closer to the American, their faces almost meeting.

"How... on earth... is this fine? How?! Just... how... I mean, this... this is not good at all." It's hard for America to control his anger. He isn't mad at England, though. He was mad at himself. He cares so much for the Brit, so he finds it so stupid of him to not have known that something was up, that there was something wrong with England. He feels like a dumbass. He feels as though he has failed England once again. He's tried so hard to make everything up to England by being around him a lot and talking with him at the meetings, trying to get on his good side, yet even so, he wasn't able to notice something like this.

"America..." England uses his thumb to wipe away some of America's tears. "Please don't cry... I truly am fine..." He wasn't. He knew he was lying. But he couldn't help but do so. He didn't want to lie, though, especially not to America. He just doesn't want to worry anyone. He doesn't want to see America crying.

"Like hell you are! Tell me... why... why are you doing this?"

The Brit looks at him, suddenly in shock. Why was he doing this? His eyes lower to the ground. How was he supposed to explain all of this? He was tired of how everyone was always looking down on him, insulting him and his cooking, making it seem as though he's nothing but a weakling now. He just thought that if everyone thought he was weak, he'd prove to himself that he was different, that he was still strong... by not eating. By not needing something that most people need in order to survive. Now that he thought about it, it really was pathetic of him. All it did is make him seem even weaker.

"America... I... I can't tell you..." No. He won't tell America. He doesn't want America's or anyone else's pity. All that'd do is make him feel even worse about himself.

"But England—"

"Shut up. Just... shut up... please..." He removes his hands from the American's grip and lightly pushes America away from him, so that he could get to the door.

Before America even had time to react, England had left the bathroom, leaving America all by himself. Once England had gone, America couldn't stop himself from tearing up. He felt so useless at the moment. He truly did care for the Brit. He really wants to figure out why England was doing this to himself in the first place, so he could find a way to help him. But... it seems as though England doesn't even want any help...

When America gets back to the meeting room, he notices that England isn't there.

Where could he be?

America sits down at his spot and, to try to keep his mind off of things for a bit, engages a conversation with France and Canada. Soon, everyone was done eating, and it was time to get back to business. Ludwig went up to the stand and was about to start the meeting back up when he saw that England was nowhere to be found in the room.

"Does anyone know where England is?" he asks in a gruff voice, annoyed that England had disappeared during the meeting break.

America instantly goes stiff. England hadn't returned? The American became very worried. He didn't know if he should tell anyone what he had seen in the bathroom. It's obvious England never wanted anyone to find out about it in the first place.

"I-I'll go look for him..." America says. "You guys just go ahead and continue on with the meeting."