The war was dragging on, and so was the Allies' meeting. After listening to America talk constantly for multiple hours, showering the entire table in burger crumbs the whole time, China was ready to scream. Did the stupid kid think this was a game? ... Yes, he probably did. Most nations did. China had, until a year ago. It's hard to empathise when, as far as you know, you'll come out unscathed.

Worse, the Europeans hadn't got over their habit of trying to push him around from the bad old days before the Second Opium War. His scars tingled lightly as he thought of it.

(they're using you again just like those bastards used you in the city you're nothing to them just a warm body then and a source of cheap labour now who the fuck do they think they are treating the oldest living nation on earth like that they'll all pay but i'm so tired i just want to forget it all)

America stopped talking as the sound of China's pen snapping in his hand interrupted his monologue. The other Allies stared. China glared back. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing ... you've broken your pen, but go ahead, if you wanna break your own pens I'm not stopping you," America babbled.

China sighed. "Sorry, I've just been a bit tense lately."

"We all are," England said, in an awkward attempt at comfort. "Um, I know you still hate me, and I know exactly why. But if you need any help ...?"

"I'm fine, opium bastard," China said through gritted teeth.

(you just used me too i thought we were friends and you fucked me and fucked over my people and got me on this fucking drug)

The meeting finally ended, and China paced the corridor, waiting for the tension to diffuse. It was a slow and painful process.

He caught sight of a figure with soft blond hair, and smiled to himself. Maybe he could speed it up.

He darted forward and grabbed the person's arm. "Hey, France. You said you think I'm cute, right? Okay, let's fuck."

"What? I'm Canada!"

China stopped, blinking. "Who?"

"Ca-na-da! You know, the guy who lives above America?"

"Oh, right. Well, the offer's still on," China said, pushing the nagging hint of guilt away.

(my turn to use someone)

"What?" Canada blushed scarlet. "I-I ... you can't even remember my name! You've never spoken to me before today except when I try to remind you who I am!"

"I know. I'm bored. Sure you're not interested?"

"Excuse me, are you bothering my ex-colony?" came an icy voice from behind China. He spun around to see an irritated-looking France.

"Not any more. I was looking for you." China was relieved. Had he really been trying to bully poor Canada into ...

(shit i'm as bad as they were no no i'm not can't think like that i wouldn't really have pushed him that far but still i freaked him out shitty thing to do no it's okay he's fine)

China turned around to apologise, but Canada had fled in the meantime. China shrugged and promptly forgot about him, as usual. He turned back to France and said "So, did you hear that?"

"Enough to tell you were propositioning him."

"Only because I couldn't find you."

France's eyebrow raised elegantly. "Don't you still hate me?"

"Yes, but I need to take out stress and I don't have many options." China checked them off on his fingers. "I hate England more than you, you saw how whatsisname reacted-"

"Canada."

"-whatever ... I don't know if Russia even knows what the word means, let's not even discuss America, and humans aren't, ah, durable enough."

"Oh, well, in that case ..." France said with a shrug and a sleazy grin. "My room is closer."

France regretted the decision shortly afterwards. Liking it rough was one thing, but the experience felt less like sex than trying to restrain an angry rat. China screamed and clawed and bit, and it felt more like luck than judgment that was causing his nails to miss France's eyes.

France's Chinese wasn't up to much, but as China's hands closed around his throat, he recognised one worrying phrase. China had used it quite a lot during the Opium Wars.

"I'll kill you, motherfucker!"

France shoved China off him, causing him to land on the floor with a yell.

"Ow! What the fuck ...?" China rubbed his head. "Hey, you lost your erection."

"Yes, that tends to happen when my life is threatened. I know enough Chinese to know what you just said."

"Shit. Sorry, didn't mean for that to come out." China got up and started pulling his clothes back on. "Sorry about that. And thanks. I should go."

"What about you?" asked France worriedly. "You didn't even get hard to start with! I didn't think I was that bad."

"It's a ... medical thing."

"Shit, I think you're bleeding! I did say I thought you needed more lube."

"You're bleeding too," China said, pointing to the scratches and bites all over France's torso.

France ignored him, looking at China's forearms as he pulled on his jacket. "Are those trackmarks?"

"No," China lied blatantly, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. He finished fastening his buttons and stalked to the door. France jumped up and grabbed his arm as China's hand touched the doorknob.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I told you, I've been stressed," China said dully. "My brother's being a jackass to me and our other brother, you're all being jackasses to me and each other, and it's been too long since I've been able to kill something so I went for the next best thing ... Hey, what are you- no!"

France pulled China's hand up to his face and rolled his sleeve down. "These are trackmarks. I thought you were off that stuff decades ago!"

"None of your fucking business!"

Before China entirely realised what he was doing, France was slumping against the wall, clutching his blackened eye.

"Fuck." China stared at his hand. "... Sorry. I got carried away."

France raised a hand to forestall further discussion, and bent to pick up his clothes. China watched, unsure if he should leave. Once he was decently dressed, France looked China in the eye again, and spoke. "Look. I know it's none of my business. But your people need you. We need you. And you need to be well. You really have to get off that stuff."

China looked guiltily at his hands. "I know. Okay. I'll get off the stuff, and I'm sorry I hit you."

"Yes, well." France rubbed his face. "Arguments are one thing, but if I'm going to be punched in the bedroom I like an advance warning. It's okay, just try to sort yourself out now, yes?"

"Okay."

China made it down the corridor to his own room before the tears emerged. He curled up on his bed, shaking and sobbing. Fuck, he wanted the drug now. He mentally thanked his lucky stars that France had assumed his state was entirely down to the drugs, and that he hadn't recognised any of the other phrases he'd screamed.

He dug in his pocket and found his needle. Yeah, France was right. He had to give it up. Tomorrow.