He was gone…and he was never coming back…ever...

Feliciano knew this…but his heart still ached for the boy he loved. He sat on a chair by the window, playing with the apron he wore over his dress. He felt sick to his stomach after the news Austria had told him. Hungary had done her best to make Feliciano feel better, but to no avail. Feliciano felt broken…alone in the world, despite being surrounded by friends and family…but he only wanted one friend…Holy Rome…the thought of him being gone from this world made him want to leave the world too.

Everyone assumed Feliciano was too young to think this way, but he wasn't. As young as he was in appearance, he was an old soul. He had lived through watching his grandfather pass away, which scared him for life. He lived through countless attacks on his land, which he defended bravely. He lived through quite a bit more…and this was just the cherry on top. It made his heart sink into his chest, shrinking a bit more every day, and every time he thought of the boy he loved.

He had sat there in that chair for a whole day straight. Hungary brought food in for the other, and left it on his desk. He didn't even turn to look at it. How could he eat at a moment like this…how could he eat…when his best friend had died…a young boy is dead…and he received food!? What in the world had he done to deserve food! Nothing. All he does is sit around, and get into trouble, and get yelled at by numerous people. He didn't deserve to eat the food…Holy Rome…he deserved to eat the food…he deserved to live. All these thoughts that the young Feliciano had racing in his mind triggered more thoughts, and those thoughts made others come up as well.

He began crying again, for the fifth time that day. He did not sob, for this time it wasn't about the loss of his friend… but the loss of his self worth. He felt dead inside, and that way he would remain till the day he died…or at least he suspected that was how it would be. Feliciano rubbed his eyes clean of tears, and stood up. He grabbed the scissors from his desk, and began violently chopping off his wavy locks of hair. Snip after snip, hair fell to his feet. When he was done, he looked into his mirror. He looked a mess, but he didn't care…at least now he looked how he felt. Horrible. Disgusting. Pathetic. Worthless…the list went on in Feliciano's mind.

Austria came into the room eventually to check on Feliciano. He stood in the doorway in shock from what he saw. Feliciano had shredded all of his dresses to pieces with the scissors, and his bare hands. The scraps of material lay scattered across the floor, and a barely clad Feliciano lay across them. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep when he had finished his destructive behavior. That was the day when Hungary and Austria decided to take Feliciano out to buy some new clothing.

The next day, when Feliciano was a little bit more calm, they took Feli to the tailors to get some nice, normal boy clothing for him. The tailor fitted him and smiled cheerfully. "My…what a cute little boy you have here." The old man smiled, and showed Feliciano to a place to stand so he could take measurements. He moved the measuring tape from one part of Feli's body to another. "My…you're so chubby." He said in a soft voice, chuckling playfully, and poked Feliciano in the belly, trying to get him to laugh. He didn't laugh. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, feeling nothing. He hated himself enough already for letting Holy Rome die…(by now he was blaming his death on himself…for some reason feeling as if he could have done something to prevent it from ever happening).

Hungary just smiled and nodded to the tailor, agreeing. "he sure is…he's just so adorable." She smiled, Austria nodding as well as he sat in the chair next to her. They left the tailors after he had his measurements done, and walked to the barbers, where the man working there chopped off all of Feli's uneven hair, leaving his hair so short you could see his scalp…but it would grow back out quickly…it always did. When Feli was through all of this pampering, he got into the carriage with Austria and Hungary and rode back home.

When there, he went into his room, and lay on his bed, staring up at the canopy above him. He let out a deep sigh, and heard his stomach growl. "SHUT UP!" he screamed at himself, trying to will away the hunger. "Leave me alone...I don't deserve it…go away…" he ordered his stomach. As if by magic, which at the time, Feliciano believed it to be magic, his stomach stopped growling, and he felt better. He didn't eat again that day, which made him feel a bit better each day. Sure…he didn't have the energy to do much other than sleep…but he couldn't tolerate the guilt he knew he would feel if he ate.

The words the tailor had said to him stuck in his head the whole day. When he didn't feel too dizzy or sick, he stood up, walked to his mirror, and put a hand over his stomach, then poked it, then squeezed it. He felt angry. He was chubby…fat. He was gluttonous…that was one of the seven deadly sins…His first thought was that he was surely going to go to hell now. He had eaten too much in his life so far, and look where it got him. He was now a sinner for eating so much, a murderer for sending Holy Rome off to his death, and a coward for not doing anything about his problems.

He looked himself dead in the eye, staring deep into the mirror. He had feminine eyes…a feminine face…in general a girlish body. Feminine and girlish meant weak…he was weak. With being weak came being pathetic…worthless, pointless…a waist of space. Thought after thought tumbled around Feliciano's head, his mind creating one terrible thing after another…showing Feli all the faults he never knew he had. All the imperfections with his body, personality…everything. By the end of his inspection of himself, he came to the conclusion that he needed to fix himself…to better himself. He couldn't be a burden on his friends anymore…he couldn't let anyone die ever again…he couldn't smile honestly ever again…

He couldn't eat ever again.

October third, 2013 (German unity day)

Feliciano woke up that morning laying in someone else's bed, though it was so familiar to him. He looked around, and saw he was alone…just as he was every morning. He sighed, and got up, stretching like a cat as he stood. With one soft step at a time across the wooden floor, he woke up more. He walked to his folded pile of clothes (folded by Ludwig of course), and put them on. He smiled at the note that was left on top of them. It was a simple note, explaining that the German had gone out for a quick jog and would be right back as soon as he was done.

Little did Ludwig know, Feliciano himself had gone for a run too. Just as he did every day. He'd always be too tired to show off his superior running skills during training, but in the mornings when he woke up around three or four, he was awake and alert. That morning, he had put on sweats and a hoodie, and quietly left the bed, the room, then the house. He ran down the lighted sidewalks for five miles, then ran five miles back home. He was so tired when he got back. He packed his sweats away in his suit case again, and crawled back into the bed with Ludwig, and cuddled up to him. Feliciano was burning hot from his run, and Ludwig shifted away from the uncomfortable heat. Feli's heart fell flat, and he moved away, feeling rejected. After a few moments of laying there, he finally managed to get to sleep.

So, when Feliciano got up that morning, got dressed, and read his note, he chuckled to himself, feeling proud that he still hadn't been found out after all of these years. He'd love to wake up earlier one of these days and go on a run with Ludwig just to prove to him he was fast and strong too…to impress him.

There's nothing impressive about you. He'd never be impressed by anything you do.

Feli sighed at the voice in his head…his voice, telling him all these negative things all the time. He plastered on his fake smile, and walked over to the bathroom. He opened the door, and walked in before stepping onto the electric scale Ludwig had on the floor. He had bought it to track of his weight, not that it was really a problem for Ludwig. Feli looked down at the small, square screen and waited for the number to pop up.

110 lbs.

He felt tears well up in his eyes. Why did he have to be so damn heavy!? What had he done wrong!? He exercised like mad to burn off calories, and he barely ate anything until…until the evening rolled around…

This new habit of him hadn't been there until about fifteen years ago, so it was fairly new in Feli's time scheme. Every night it seemed, or at least most nights, when Feli hadn't eaten anything all day, or in two days…He would boil a huge pot of water, and cook all the pasta he could grab in his hands, eating all of it within only a few hours. He remembered the extreme pasta binge he had had last night after Ludwig went to bed, and felt awful. He stepped off of the scale, and looked himself in the mirror.

Fat ass

With those two words stuck in his mind, he walked over to the toilet, eyes filled with determination…no sign of fear. He got onto his knees, bent over, stuck two fingers as far back into his throat as he could, and pressed down on the back of his tongue. Within moments all the food left in his stomach from last night came up, and emptied themselves into the toilet beneath him. This lasted for about ten minutes, until he was dry heaving into the toilet, only bile and water coming up now. He stood up on shaky legs, took off his clothes, and walked back over to the scale.

108.8 lbs

He gave a triumphant smile. A smile not normally seen on the Italian. He looked almost deranged…not himself…but he also looked happy…honestly happy…not his fake happy that he put on for everyone else.

"I'll be at my goal soon…and just you wait…wait and see just how strong I can be." He said to his reflection with fierce eyes.

He put his clothes back on and went down to the kitchen to begin cooking breakfast for Ludwig. He made some for himself too, just to make it look like he ate. He put the food on two plates when he finished cooking, and began cutting his up. He poured over three fourths of it into the sink's blender, and with the rest, smashed it, mixed it around the plate, added some salt and pepper to the eggs and potatoes, and even put some of the food into Ludwig's dog's bowls (which the three dogs immediately ate when they smelled it)

Soon enough, Ludwig opened the door, and stepped inside. He smiled softly when he saw Feliciano, a bright flush on his face. Feli blamed it on the run. Ludwig blamed it on Feliciano. He nodded at him silently and ran upstairs to get cleaned off. He came back down moments later and sat at the table, and began eating, thanking Feliciano for the delicious food.

"Aren't you going to have some?" he asked Feliciano after taking and swallowing his fourth bite.

Feliciano giggled cutely, and smiled. His eyes were closed like they normally were, trying not to show off his dead amber eyes. His smile was fake, but it was so perfected that no one could tell the difference between his fake smile, and someone's real smile.

"Oh, don't you worry, Germany…I already ate."