Warnings: Eating disorder, mentions of self harming.
Hetalia Axis Powers does not belong to me.
deteriorate
It was five o'clock in the morning, and Feliciano was eating a microwave pizza with a fork and knife. Unfortunately, by some twisted bead of misfortune- Germany walked into the kitchen.
The other man didn't question why Feliciano was up at this ungodly hour, and merely poured a glass of water. Dark rings of sleep were present underneath his eyes, and he stared at Feliciano.
Dark, suffocating feelings overtook Feliciano, as he struggled to swallow the shame down his throat. The strength of his self-loathing made his hands shake. The fork and knife clattered onto his plate, the sorry excuse for pizza almost forgotten.
"What are you doing, Italy?" Ludwig asked, sipping his water with large swishing noises.
Felicano smiled, the façade crawling on his face. "I was just anxious, and I just woke up, and then I went to the kitchen somehow…" The Italian then sighed, putting his hand on his face. "I thought I couldn't go to sleep until I went with my idea."
He made sure to be vague, to make it sound like it was just a craving. It couldn't be too big, but Feliciano couldn't lie either. His words pressed on the general truth. Germany shouldn't worry about his petty problems, anyway.
.
Sometimes, Feliciano cried when he ate. He always sat alone at her dinner table, salty water streaming down his face. He still ate the larded handfuls of hate and shame, shoving the food down his throat. He was ashamed, so ashamed at his ravenous mind and body. He wanted to stop eating.
After the fourth candy bar went down, he opened a wrapper of a chip bag.
It didn't matter in the end. He would throw up his shame and agony into the toilet again, wishing that his troubles could disappear just as easily as flushing a toilet.
.
Germany still watched him, and Feliciano couldn't help but feel disgust pool in his flabby stomach. Not enough, not enough, never goddamned enough. Your friend is watching you eat, you big fat liar.
Germany-no, Ludwig- is looking at him so intently, those blue eyes, like a memory faded by the wash, spinning around and around and around…. Feliciano feels sick, and he nearly drops his utensils, Déjà vu spreading through his body.
Even though his head is spinning, Feliciano continues to eat, cutting the pizza, avoiding his ally's eyes.
Germany finally goes to bed at some point, and Felicano hears the door shut.
Feliciano finishes the pizza. He cries.