Cooking is creating a melody - no, a symphony of flavours. Different elements combine into a thing of beauty, working together for the enjoyment of the recipient.

Cooking is texture, colour and smell, it is art! It is all Roderich thinks about!

However, there is a time when he realises the surplus of food. He can't have this poison in his house.

Cooking is art, but it is also arsenic. It is deadly. It is toxic. It is nothing he would wish on himself while he is sound of mind.

Cooking leads to food, and food leads to eating; which is inexcusable. Food and eating are his enemies, the ones he shall fight alone and be victorious over; he has lost many a battle in the past, but this is one he will win.

Even if he is nothing but plain, he will no longer let his hulking, flabby body stand in the way of perfection. After all, plainness has it's cures; make up and, possibly, surgery - Feliciano had work done on his nose, and it's a masterpiece.

Roderich never really had the gift of plainness, really. Plainness carries a certain charm; look at Ukraine, for an example. If you ignore her... assets, she has a charming simplicity to her looks. He is just ugly, really.

Roderich picks his glasses, the frames that do nothing other than distract from his hideousness, and slides them onto his nose. He stares deeper into the bathroom mirror, brushing yet more concealer under his eyes to hide the dark circles that betray his nights of insomnia.

He shivers in the cold air of the bathroom - as he shivers everywhere, the cold frozen into his bones - and the downy hair on his arms raise into goose bumps.

Next, rouge. Rosy cheeks represent joy, youth and warmth. All he lost long ago, but the sickly pallor he has isn't in fashion at all; the white lead paint hasn't gone near a face in hundreds of years.

He smells food in the kitchen and terror rises; Vash is cooking. Vash only cooks for two, and it's breakfast time.

He smears red-tinted lip balm on his chapped, overly pale lips and nods. Yes, fine, as good as he'll ever get. After an hour - although part of that was staring into space - his face, his mask, is finished.

Next, he goes to his bedroom; it's time to dress. He changes out of his moth-eaten pyjamas and pulls on his patched underwear. Then, he picks up the corset.

Once upon a time, his obsession with sliming that awful bulge in his stomach had taken him to male corsetry. It had begun with a wide, re-enforced belt that saved away a few inches; it had been all the rage, not to mention being a God-send for the cavalry as it protected their kidneys and had a fair amount of protection should they fall. From the moment he slipped it on, he loved it; and that love only progressed as the innovation of the male corset grew into an almost full-torso affair, stopping just underneath the pectoral area.

Now, his corset was tight, tight, so tight. If he ate too much, he fainted; but that wasn't really an issue for him.

He slipped it on and pulled at the laces himself. Squeezing, compressing; good. Maybe if he pulled hard enough, he'll turn into a diamond; he thought sarcastically. As if he could ever be a diamond, compressed carbon or not.

There was a knock at the door. Tap, tap, tap; uniform and precise. Vash.

"Roderich? Are you alright?" He called through the door.

He would of answered Vash, but it's hard to talk when squeezing your fat self into a corset. He gasped and panted, trying to make the contraption tighter. He then tied it off quickly.

"Roddy, if you don't answer me, I'll -"

"What is it, Vash?" He questioned, still panting slightly, "I'm just getting ready, making myself not look like the wrong end of a horse."

Silence. Peace. Calm.

"Roddy, we need to talk about this; I've been ignoring it for far too long."

Panic.


The kitchen smelled of cheese. More specifically, cheese fondue.

"Come, let's have something to eat," Vash sighed, and attempted smile forming on his lips, but Roderich could only focus on the bile edging its way up his oesophagus at the thought.

"No thank you, I have my corset on; you know that if I eat I'll faint," He waved away, as if it was insignificant.

Vash huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not good at these things..." The Swiss man mumbled, his shirtsleeve falling down a little to reveal a new bite mark.

"Oh, Vash..." Roderich breathed, carefully enveloping him in an embrace, "It's ok."

"Please eat..." He heard Vash mumble into his shoulder, "Please, I can feel your bones."

"N-no," Roderich denied, "I'm fine, you know I don't eat breakfast -"

"Or lunch, or dinner," The other man interrupted, pushing him away, "It's dangerous to be so thin, you're hurting yourself. And don't get me started on the corset -"

"There is nothing wrong with the corset!" He snapped.

"You tie it far to tight! Those things can deform ribs and displace organs!" Vash informed, "You don't exactly have a lot to protect you!"

"I don't have a problem!" Roderich yelled, tears forming in his eyes, "I'm fat and ugly and I'm just trying to fix that! Go yell at Feliciano, he's had a nose job and I heard he wants more work done; go lecture him about the dangers of plastic surgery!"

A pin could have dropped. It was so quiet, so stifling.

Roderich swiped at his eyes, irritated. "I don't... want to eat," He stated, his voice shaking, "I don't want to be this big anymore."

Vash, awkwardly and much to his own embarrassment, drew Roderich in for another hug. Affection was still a bit difficult for him, but he was getting better.

"You're beautiful, Roddy. I promise. You're skin and bone, not fat at all," Vash soothed, "You don't need the makeup, or to starve yourself. You don't need the corset. Please, just... just..."

Vash's voice trailed off as he rubbed Roderich's shaking shoulders. "I... I... don't..." The Austrian sobbed, fear in his tone. Vash just kept rubbing his back, whispering sweet nothings to him.

"I'm not asking a lot, but just try to eat something... not for me, but your beautiful self," Vash breathed, kissing Roderich's cheek tenderly.

They had moments where they just walked away from each other, this was not one of those moments. Instead, Vash dried Roderich's tears and sat him down at the table, ready for the first step to making the most important person in his life better.


A/N: Rushed ending is rushed. I seem to have puked my own insecurities all over Roderich, and my problems all over Vash; I'm so sorry, babies D:

Switzerland gets very stressed out in the anime (I haven't read enough of the manga to know), and it's a reaction some people can have when stressed; self harm is not only caused by depression. Also, I've always had the impression that proper affection is difficult for Vash (again, from the anime), I don't know if anyone else shares that opinion.

It's cannon that Austria thinks he looks plain (I personally think he looks damn fine!), gets worn out really easily and wears a corset, and my imagination is over-active.

And the next one is GerIta! Or ItaGer, as the order will be.

Hywl fawr, cariadau!