WARNING: ANOREXIA, BULIMIA, EXTREME DEPRESSION AND SHITTY WRITING AHEAD
Hah, actually getting into this story now that my depression has worsened. This one's a longer update, thank god. It means a lot to me when people leave reviews, so if you follow or favourite the story, even just a 'good job' or some shit would be fucking great. Anyways, enjoy.
Arthur Kirkland was speeding his car up to Alfred's address, worried as all hell. He'd recently taken a walk in one of the nice parks around the area to calm himself before going to the American's house to see if he was alright. The Brit was quite the worrier, and the complete cut off of contact from his friend had him a little more than panicked. At first he just dismissed it as Alfred's boss pulling him aside for something and the clumsy blonde just forgetting to tell the others he wouldn't be there for any meetings. But then a month passed, and then two, and not even Kiku, one of Alfred's best friends, had seen anything. They were always talking about new video games with each other, and even a few of the big releases hadn't triggered any digital or face to face conversation between them.
Arthur, in all of his anxiety had spent hours on the internet, searching up the nation's social media to see if anything had been posted in the last months. The Brit knew it was disrespectful to look up others social media without permission, but at this point he had abandoned all morals to see if Alfred was alright. There was nothing on twitter, or facebook, or even his tumblr blog, but Arthur was determined, and after over thirteen hours of desperate clicking and searching around, he found a tumblr blog called Butter-Whore. It was full of pictures and posts of anorexia, and stupid, harmful quotes like 'Your stomach isn't growling, it's cheering for you!' The entire blog revolved around losing weight by any method possible, including throwing up and just not eating at all. Arthur was horrified, but natural curiosity made him go deeper, to his horror's delight.
One of the posts was a compilation of what all the youngsters called 'selfies' of Alfred, shirtless and smiling. The thing is it wasn't some innocent after workout selfie, Alfred didn't look healthy or happy, his skin was dull and pale instead of it's lovely natural tan, he had no muscles, and his bones protruded from his skin as if his skeleton desperately wanted to escape from his body at all costs. Even the caption was dark and desperate. "Seven weeks into the new diet, and it's working great, still can't seem to get any of the extra pudge off me though, haha. Upping the workout a little and hopefully all this disgusting baby fat will be gone! ;) ~ButterWhore. It was terrifying to Arthur how skeletal and depressed the American looked, and Arthur booked a plane ticket right then, silent tears and all. Now he was in Alfred's country, in his town, his neighbourhood, knocking at his door. The first few were quiet, the next louder, and the last were practically pounding on the door.
"Alfred? Alfred, darling please answer the door."
He knocked again, cursing the small tears he felt come to his eyes.
"Alfred please, everyone's so worried about you…"
The Brit said again, unaware of how the nation was passed out on the carpet in a small pool of his own blood. Arthur tried the handle, but it was locked, and he gave up, walking back to his car and starting it, and as always, having trouble with the driving lanes in that damned country. Multiple phone calls were made, and he quickly booked his flight to the next meeting, breaking down and silently crying every couple hours or so.
The meeting was scheduled to start at 12pm sharp, but everyone was there at least ten minutes early, pacing around and giving each other nervous glances, a little freaked out about the 'land of the free' not showing up again. The nations sat as the clock struck twelve, letting out a dozen big 'bongs' into the eerily quiet building. It was chilly in London, but the cold air wasn't what made the room so frigid. All eyes were on the representation of England, as the host always began the meeting. He cleared his throat, and looked up for a minute before looking down at his notepad again, trying his best to keep composed.
"We are going to start the meeting on a slightly…different topic today."
Arthur choked out, seeming strained.
"Y-You all have noticed that the representation of The United States of America has failed to attend meetings for the past two months."
The silent room was filled with quiet whispers as the sentence was finished, the words obviously stirring up interest.
"The President of America says he has not heard from the U.S in an equal amount of time and is concerned. As a previous caretaker and close friend of the nation, I recently took a personal t-trip to his home…"
Arthur had to take a few seconds to compose himself, biting his lip and taking a nervous breath before speaking again.
"I h-happened to accidentally run into him before going to his h-house, A-And I f-fear I may h-have some u-unf-fortunate news."
Small tears welled up in the nation's eyes and he looked down at the table as if it had the answers to all of his worries. The entire table of countries was on edge, leaning forward and holding their breath, wanting to know how bad it all was.
"A-Alfred is v-v-very sick and I-I-I d-don't know wh-what to d-do! Dear god, i-it's t-terrif-fing! He's a-a-a sk-skeleton! His e-eyes a-are so dull and h-he's s-so so a-afraid!"
Arthur broke down, leaning into the offered embrace of Francis, who sat beside him. He was sobbing in only a way that a big brother could. Desperately afraid for Alfred's life. He'd watched America grow up, loved him, protected him, watched him fight for freedom and achieve it. The other nations were panicked, and the entire meeting room was filled with absolute chaos. Germany, as usual, was trying to get everyone to calm down but to no avail. Italy clung to the German's legs, crying and whining for Ludwig to comfort him. Russia just stared off into the distance, amethyst eyes sad and terrified. China sat with his head in his hands, staring down in disbelief as he muttered panicked Chinese to himself. Japan was shaking, hugging himself as he stared holes into the table, trying to comprehend the possibility of his best friend, his happy-go-lucky, never give up, peppy and almost annoyingly cheerful best friend, could be sick like that.
After a good half hour of pure panic and anxiety, everyone had composed themselves enough to sit back down and continue the meeting. Arthur took a big breath and squeezed Francis's hand under the table for comfort before addressing the nations again, trying to be as gentle as he could. Especially for Feliciano, who was curled up in Ludwig's lap, still holding on tight to the German.
"Ahem, s-sorry, that was v-very… Unprofessional of me. I am g-going to request that a few of you t-take a short trip with me t-to A-America's house and try to solve this s-situation."
Every country jumped at the opportunity, but Arthur shook his head.
"I-If you will accept t-the offer, I would like R-Russia, J-Japan and France t-to accompany m-me. Please stay b-behind. As for the r-rest of you, the meeting is adjourned. We've h-had enough to deal with to-today."
And with that, everyone stood and catered to their own, now very worried business.