With a shuddering sob Mexico slid down the door and crumpled into a heap on the floor. She covered her mouth in an attempt to keep her brother from hearing, but she wasn't able to muffle it completely. On the other side of the bathroom door America was purging. Her baby brother was sick, and it wasn't the kind of illness she could cure with prescription medicine or old fashioned remedies. She'd never dealt with this kind if illness before and she was scared. She was so scared because she didn't know how to make it better, she always knew how to make things better.

Her sobs increased when she heard the toilet flush and she half stumbled, half crawled away from the door. She nearly tumbled down the stairs but was caught by Canada at the bottom. He looked at her sorrowfully and held her close as she cried. He'd suspected something was wrong with his brother and now Mexico's tears merely confirmed it.

What went wrong?! Mexico thought. How did this happen? Why didn't we realize it sooner?

Mexico's POV

Mexico rolled her eyes as the World Conference room fell into chaos again. Couldn't they have a productive meeting for once? She caught eyes with Britain, Norway, Canada, and a few other more sensible nations. They all nodded minutely, after the meeting was over they'd all meet in a nearby cafe and actually get some real work done, like they did every time. She felt slightly guilty for leaving lots of nations out of their impromptu meetings, but it couldn't be helped. She let out a huff of relief when Germany finally took charge and dismissed them. She stood up and stretched languidly, sighing as her back popped pleasantly. She felt someone tug at her sleeve and turned around fully prepared to punch that Frenchy into the next...oh, it was Canada.

"Oh, hey hermano. What cafe should we go to this time?" Canada shrugged and tugged at her sleeve again in a sign that he wanted to talk to her privately. Mexico raised an eyebrow but pointed to the door and they both walked silently out of the room and down the hall for a bit.

"Do you think something's wrong with Alfred?" Canada asked suddenly and Mexico halted. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see America walk out. He seemed fine, he was still smiling, he was still obnoxious and arrogant, what could be wrong?

"I don't see anything wrong with him. Did he grow a third eye when I wasn't looking?" she joked. Canada didn't laugh, he ran his hands through his shoulder length hair and stared at America.

"I...I don't know Maria, something just seems off about him. He's not as cheerful as before, I'm getting worried."

Mexico waved his concerns away, "Honestly Matthew, he's one of the strongest nations in the world. I'm sure he's fine. And he'd tell us if something was wrong."

Canada's face slowly relaxed and he nodded, "Yeah... you're right."

America's POV

He couldn't take it anymore, he was out of control. He HATED being out of control. But he couldn't help it. He'd ordered ten Big Macs, two large servings of fries and tons of cookies from McDonalds and now he was inhaling them at a voracious rate. His stomach gurgled in relief as his self imposed fast ended.
Don't get used to it, he thought grimly. Finally the food was all gone and America leaned back with a sigh. He looked at the greasy wrappers that littered the table and floor then down at his own stomach.

Oh no.

What had he DONE?

Self loathing filled his entire being and he ran to the bathroom. He grabbed a toothbrush and jammed it down his throat (he wasn't a complete idiot, he knew one of the most common signs of induced vomiting was scars and sores on fingers due to continued contact with stomach acids) and leaned over the toilet as he'd done hundreds of times. His shoulders shook and his eyes filled with tears as he emptied his stomach. But instead of feeling his raw throat or upset stomach or even the tears streaming down his face, he felt...relief.

It was okay now, he was in control.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice screamed that this was wrong, that he should stop or get help.

But America didn't need help, he was fine.

Just fine.

Before he left the bathroom he popped down a handful of diet pills.

Canada's POV

Canada saw his brother walking ahead of him on the sidewalk and hurried to catch up with him. He apologized to several people he bumped into but they didn't seem to notice him. "Alfred!" His whispery shout must have somehow carried over the babble of noise because America paused and turned around. He grinned and waited for Canada to catch up with him.

"Hey Mattie! What are you doin' over here in the States?"

Canada shrugged, "I just wanted to visit, that's all. Are you going on a walk?" America nodded,

"Yeah, ya wanna walk with me?" Canada agreed and they walked for a few minutes, talking about this and that. America pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece into his mouth, he held out the pack in a silent invitation to Canada and he accepted. He looked at it curiously.

"Sugar free? I thought you hated the sugar free kind, said it tasted as bad as Canadian bacon." Canada teased lightly.

America laughed, "I still think that stuff's gross. And I'm actually going on a diet Mister Health Nut."

Canada's brow furrowed slightly, "A diet? Al, you don't need a diet. You're just fine."

America let out a small sigh and looked away.

"Not according to some people."

Canada blinked in shock, had he really just heard that? It had been so low, not even a whisper. Had his brother really just said that, with his voice sounding so bitter and hurt?

"Al..."

America looked back at Canada and his usual smile was back. No, not his usual smile, this one looked forced. Canada felt concern unexpectedly grip him as he realized he hadn't seen his brother truly smile in a long, long time.

America's POV

America glared at his bathroom mirror. He was trying so hard, why was he still so fat? He looked with disgust at his jiggling thighs and protruding belly. It was so unfair! Maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough, yeah, that must be it. He would just have to try harder, eat less, exercise more.

'This isn't healthy!' His voice of reason yelled. Strange how it sounded just like Britain. 'Shut up, I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm going to get better.'

'If you're fine, why don't you want others to know what you're doing, aru?' 'Shut up China, they wouldn't understand. They don't know what it's like! Go away!'

'You have to stop this! You're going to get hurt!' 'I'm okay Canada, I really am. Just shut up and leave me alone!' America was a little disconcerted by how rapidly the voices were changing but he was fine. HE WAS FINE!

'But you're not okay, da?' 'What the-?! Russia, since when did you...'

America swayed as his vision spun and he gripped the counter for support as his knees buckled from exhaustion and malnutrition. He fell to his hands and knees and had the vague impression of the cool tile floor against his palms before blackness clouded his vision.

...

...

...

"Alfred!"

America cracked open one eyelid and moaned softly as his head throbbed. His upper half was being cradled in someone's arms and he blinked a few times to clear his vision. He saw the worried faces of Mexico and Canada hovering over him and he tried to sit up. Mexico assisted him gently and he rubbed his forehead.

"Al, what happened?" Canada asked softly.

America tried to think of an excuse quickly, "I... I've had a lot of work this week...I guess...I fell asleep standing up?" he chuckled weakly and tried to keep his panic at bay when his brother and sister looked at him skeptically. He had to convince them he was fine. "Please don't tell anyone, I'm supposed to be the hero and that was very...unheroic." He resisted the urge to smirk as they nodded and the doubt left their expressions. The hero bit worked every time. But.."Um, why are you here?"

Mexico smiled, "Well, I decided to treat you two to a full course Mexican meal! Don't worry, I brought my own food, I know you don't have most of the right ingredients anyway."

America felt the previous panic bubble up again and he resisted the urge to gag at the mere thought of all that food. Instead he forced out his fake smile, or his 'public smile' as he liked to call it, and said, "Sounds great!"

Mexico's POV

Mexico watched America closely as he ate. She couldn't really see why Canada had called her here, but he'd sounded so worried that she'd had to come. America looked okay, he truly did. He was wolfing down her food like he usually did, he was talking and laughing like always. Nothing was wrong with him. She shot Canada several half amused glances, as if to say "See? I told you so." Canada looked unconvinced, which bothered Mexico. He had no proof other than a pack of gum for goodness sake! And his kind of odd behavior...and his colapse in the bathroom...But still, what kind of proof was that?

But then Mexico saw something very strange, as America finished his last bite she saw a look of pain, no, more than pain, disgust, pass over his features. He excused himself from the table and almost ran up the stairs. Canada looked at her seriously and Mexico shook her head, nothing was wrong! She stood up and stomped over to the stairs, she'd show Matthew, she'd SHOW him there was nothing wrong.

...Why would America make that face?

It wasn't because of her cooking, she was sure of that.

It was something else.

Suddenly thoughts of food disorders, anorexia, bulimia, binging, all flashed through her mind and she froze at the top step. No! It was absolutely ridiculous! She tiptoed to the bathroom door, - there was nothing wrong - pressed her ear against the wood - Alfred was okay - and heard...

America grabbed a washcloth and held it under the open faucet for a moment before wiping off his face. He grinned as he thought of all that potential fat out of his body, though he knew if Mexico found out she wouldn't approve of his waste of food. Almost gleefully he skipped out of the room and down the stairs.

The scene waiting for him wasn't so happy.

Mexico was crying, sobbing, and Canada didn't look much better. "What's wrong?" America asked worriedly.

Canada and Mexico looked at him so sorrowfully, their eyes filled with pain. Mexico lurched forward and clung to America's arm. "Alfred, hermanito, why are you hurting yourself like this?" Her words were barely recognizable through her sobs, but they filled America with dread and panic. They knew, somehow they knew. He wanted to run, get away from there, but Canada seemed to sense this because he quickly grabbed his other arm.

"We're going to help you Alfred," he promised solemnly. America snarled and tried to jerk away but they still clung to him.

"I'm fine! I don't need any help!"

He twitched as his siblings looked at him, so scared, but so determined. And for once he listened to his complaining stomach, felt the rawness of his throat and the ache the permeated his whole body.

He... wasn't fine.

He wrapped his arms around Mexico and Canada and held on to them fearfully, like a young child whose nightmares have forced him to sleep in his parents bed that night. He didn't know what was going to happen, he had no control anymore. How were they supposed to help him? This had been going on for years and years, did they really expect it to just walk away?

"We'll get through this together," Mexico said once her cries had ceased a bit. Together? Now that America though about it, he was terribly alone. He never ate in front of anyone when he could help it, he was always hiding, always distrusting others...even his own family.

Together?

Maybe.

Maybe they could fix this together.

._. I swear, the plot bunnies in my head are EVIL. You'd think they'd be satisfied with one story about America being insecure about his weight but NOOOOOO.

I mean no disrespect to anyone who has/had an eating disorder, please don't take this the wrong way and think I'm making fun of it or something. I tried to make this as accurate as possible but if I portrayed this wrong feel free to tell me and I'll try to fix this ASAP.

EDIT: Someone mentioned that Mexico should be younger than America but that's not really true...Yes, America became a country before Mexico, but I have several reasons for why she's older. The Aztecs and other nations in the area were (in my humble opinion) more advanced societies that the Native tribes farther up North and Mexico was colonized by Spain long before America. I'm sorry if that isn't satisfactory to you, but it's my story so, to put it lightly, GET OVER IT. Thank you.

Please review.