Warning: This chapter, and this entire story, includes Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa. If you are uncomfortable with reading about these subjects, then do not read this story. You have been warned.

America woke up in a hospital bed, an I.V. cord protruding from his arm, as well as several other cords. "What the..." He mumbled, voice dry and gravelly from lack of use. He looked around, seeing an empty hospital room, except for the required monitors and tables. There was no one sitting next to his bed, no one hoping he would wake up, no cards saying "Get Well Soon" or "We Miss You". Once again, America felt alone, and began to wonder why he was in the hospital in the first place. At first, all he could remember was waking up that day, showering, drinking a glass of water, cleaning his house, then heading to the gym. Anything after that was blurry, but America forced himself to think harder. The harder he thought, the more confused he became, but little by little, his memory of the gym came back. He entered the gym at his usual time, and began to work his usual routine; 100 Jumping Jacks, 90 Crunches, 80 Squats, 70 Leg Lifts, 60 Jumping Jacks, so on and so forth, continuing until he reached 20 Jumping Jacks, in which he would run for 10 minutes afterwards. His usual partner, Conner, was waiting for him, and was ready to start the exercise. "Hey Alfred, you ready for today?" He asked, and America struggled to remember what made that day so important. "Today's your cheat day, remember? We'll go to any restaurant, and get anything you want to eat! I know I'm excited!"

America forced a smile on his face," Yeah dude! I'm totally excited for that, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cancel. My... brother, Matthew, is visiting!" America lied, hoping Conner wouldn't question him. "Your brother? Matthew?" Conner repeated, and America nodded," Yep, that's the one!" "The brother who lives in Canada, and never calls you?" America nodded, heart thumping weakly in his chest. "Alright then, if you say so..." America almost sighed in relief, before Conner asked," Oh, did you eat before coming over here?" America shook his head no," Nah, I was gonna eat on my way home so it's totally fine-" "Here, it's a granola bar. It'll give you more energy, and will make sure you don't go hungry until we're done exercising!" America felt his throat constrict slightly, and he tried to refuse the offer, but took the granola bar anyways. Crap dude, that's like 100 Calories! America braced himself as he tore the plastic package open, and bit off a piece of oats and peanut butter. "Great! I'll be right back, gotta make sure our usual spot is still open!" Conner called, jogging off to see if there was an open space in the cardio section. As soon as Conner was gone, America ran to the bathroom, throwing the granola bar in the trash can. He forced two fingers down his throat, and started gagging.

"Hey, Alfred, the spot's open but not for long so we gotta... Go?" Conner shouted, lowering his voice to a questionable whisper. "Alfred? Where'd ya go?" He asked, looking around left and right. He tapped someone on the shoulder," Hey, did you see a guy with blond hair and blue eyes come through here? Wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt?" He asked, and the person nodded," Mmhmm, the guy ran to the bathroom. Should probably go check on him, he's been in there for ten minutes" Conner nodded, tossing a "thank you" over his shoulder as he bolted towards the bathroom. He slammed the door open, shouting," Alfred! Alfred, bud, you in here?" After getting no response, he began slamming stall doors open, panicking. He knew, dammit, he knew about Alfred's eating disorder! He should have stayed with him, he should have taken him with him, anything but leave him alone! He slammed the final door open, and froze at the sight. His exercise partner and best friend, Alfred Jones, was passed out on the bathroom floor, blood spilling from his head, and a foul odor coming from the toilet. He took a glance into the toilet, and Conner nearly threw up his breakfast. There were bits of undigested granola, surrounded by blood floating in the stained toilet bowl. A quiet moan shook him from his thoughts, and he patted himself down, looking frantically for his cellphone, before realizing he left it at home.

He looked through Alfred's pockets, and found a cell phone with a Star Spangled Phone Case. He dialed 911, and explained what happened. "I-I don't know how long he's been like this, he has an eating disorder and now he's passed out and there's blood and I don't know what to do and- Oh God what if he's dead!? My best friend can't die!" Conner cried, the operator trying to calm him down. The address something whispered in his mind, and he forced himself to take deep breaths. "W-we're in the f-first floor Men's Bathroom of Planet Fitness, the streets are-" "Yes sir, I know, please, tell me the condition of your friend. When was the last time he ate?" "T-today, I gave him a granola bar b-but he threw it up"

America winced when the door opened, and a nurse came in with an emotionless face, although her eyes held concern and pity. "Alright sir, I need to ask you a few questions" She said, and America nodded silently. "What is your name?" "A-Alfred... Jones" America mumbled, and the doctor wrote it down," Do you have any living relatives?" "M-my twin, Matthew, he lives in Canada. I have... Close friends, Francis Bonnefoy and... Arthur Kirkland" America replied, and the nurse nodded. She asked a few more questions, in which America answered honestly and quietly. "Last question sweetheart, okay?" America nodded. "When did this all start?" "... I.. don't understand" America replied honestly. Did she want when he started to diet? When he was diagnosed? When the words finally got to him? "I want to know when.. when you started to care about your weight, if that makes sense?" America nodded, thinking he understood. "I-it was... about three months ago, when I started to diet..." America finally said after a few minutes, and the nurse nodded. "It was right after work, I was going to go home and, I dunno, watch some TV or play some video games with some pals but.. that obviously didn't go as planned" America attempted to joke, and the nurse nodded.

America hummed quietly, strumming his fingers on the wooden table. He had a notebook opened in front of him, as well as a pencil. The lead was snapped, meaning America couldn't doodle in the notebook, or take notes, if he had wanted to do either of those. This was the last of the day's presentations, this one being presented by Estonia. America, to say the very least, was incredibly bored. Estonia usually tricked out his power points with little jokes here and there so the others didn't fall asleep, but Estonia had rushed this one, so America could tell without even listening that the presentation was full of errors and was overall very sloppy. Britain elbowed him in the ribs, his eyes gesturing to the powerpoint, meaning "America, pay attention!" America rolled his eyes, but watched Estonia anyways. Come to think of it, why do we call him Britain? He isn't 'Great Britain', he's the United Kingdom! Then again, 'UK' or 'Kingdom' are both pretty crappy names. I guess I'll just stick with Britain... or maybe Artie, yeah, Artie sounds way better! America smiled slightly, catching no-one's attention, thankfully. Eventually, Estonia finished his presentation, people asked questions, and Germany allowed people to finish taking notes before dismissing everyone. "Ah, that was an odd meeting!" America yawned, standing and stretching. Canada nodded, walking to stand beside him," Yeah, we actually got work done today. I bet that won't happen again, eh?"

America snickered, folding his arms behind his head. "Put your arms down, git, your beer gut is showing" Britain scolded, and America blushed slightly in embarrassment. "Dude! Heroes don't have guts! They totally have crazy-defined abs and lots of muscles! So me, being the hero, have both!" America exclaimed, pulling his shirt down slightly. France snickered slightly," If zhat eez what you believe, zhen 'o am I to stop you?" America was silent for a moment, processing the words. Had France just called him fat? "Maybe if he spent more time working out like Germany does, then he wouldn't be so grasso*!" Italy suggested, causing America to flinch slightly. "W-whatever, you all are just so totally jealous of my kick-ass body! See y'all later, I got zed to blast!" America called over his shoulder, dashing to his car. He drove home silently, allowing the voices of Dan Reynolds and P!NK to take over the outside world. Am I really fat? America asked himself, thinking about what other countries had said. Of course not, I'm the hero, and heroes don't get fat! Heroes also don't drop Atomic Bombs on their best friend, but I'm not supposed to judge hissed a voice in his mind, and America flinched. Harsh America thought, before mentally kicking himself. Was he seriously trying to have a conversation with himself!?

As soon as he got home, America flopped down onto his couch, turning on the TV. He settled for watching The Big Bang Theory, while continuing to think. He placed a hand on his stomach, and pressed down slightly, expecting to feel abs or at least something flat and firm. Instead, his hand sank down into his tummy, and he felt little fat-rolls settle on top of his hand. "W-wha?!" America exclaimed, startling the sleeping dog next to him. He jumped up and ran up the stairs to his bathroom, pulling out a scale from under the sink. He stripped to his boxers and stood on the scale, waiting. 213 the scale flashed, causing America's heart to sink into his overweight stomach. "Dude, that's totally not healthy!" He exclaimed, looking hesitantly to the mirror. He pinched at his stomach, and blushed slightly when he saw he had a bit of a muffin-top hanging over his pants. "Shit" He mumbled, grabbing the offending flab in his hands," This isn't good" America's golden retriever, Apollo, barked at his feet, jumping slightly. America chuckled, before scratching the dog behind his ears," I guess you need to go for a walk, huh?"

Apollo barked in confirmation, and America smiled," Alright, lemme get your leash" he said, discarding his button-down shirt and trading it for a tank-top. He clipped Apollo's leash to his collar, and slid on his running shoes, grabbing his house keys before leaving and locking the door behind him. Apollo pulled on the leash, ready to get moving, and America had to start out in a light jog to keep up with the excited retriever. The jog soon turned into a run as Apollo saw a butterfly and decided to chase it into the park, where America un-clipped the leash and allowed Apollo to run loose, barking at everything that moved. He laughed slightly, placing a hand on his tummy. How am I going to get rid of this? America asked himself, leaning back on a bench.

America breathed out through his nose as the door opened, and his first visitor entered. "Howdy, Conner" America greeted weakly, and Conner pulled up a chair. "Hey, Alfred" Conner replied, gripping the rails of America's bed. "So, my buddy sent me a video game a few weeks ago, and I was wondering if-" Conner wrapped his arms around America's small frame, shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, I should've been a better friend" he whimpered, crying into America's bony shoulder. America froze for a second, before relaxing into the tight embrace. "It's okay, dude. It isn't your fault, and besides, no one ever wakes up one day and decides they're never going to eat again.

And that's the first chapter... I don't know when I'm going to continue this, but I definitely will! And, I'm sorry if I get any facts wrong... that's all for now, bye