Author's Note: I just couldn't help myself, I HAD to put the next chapter up! I'm lovin' this story so much! Even though it's sad, I think it's some of my best work in writing stories in general. I hope I'm not getting too cocky (hehe, cocky) and this chapter actually sucks...crap now I'm self conscious. *sigh* anyways, when Alfred mentions his weight in this chapter that actually is bad for someone for his height and body type. On the archive thingy of Hetalia it says he's 5'9, and I would assume he's like a medium build, and he's 19, so he should be somewhere between 130-165ish area. And he's obviously not. But I'm not sure if my weight is realistic. Can someone be alive that overweight? I'm just kind of assuming they can. Enjoy!

"W-what?"
"Pretty much all the other countries but especially you and France would always make fun of my weight and what I eat every chance you get. It's always, 'Alfred stop eating those heart attacks you call a burger', 'Alfred just drinking my tea alone won't make you lose weight', 'Hey fat-ass how's it going?' and-" he started to choke up, "and all your taunting and bullying just finally got me. At first I was just going to go on a regular diet, and it just got worse and worse, and now I think I'm just some fat lard when I'm 108 pounds-"
"108?"
"Yeah, and I-I just can't stop. I can't eat I can't sleep and all I can do is work out and then throw up at the end of the day. I hate myself."
Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Alfred F. Jones was saying he hated himself. I mean, he was kind of like this during the depression, but this is much worse.
"Alfred...I'm so sorry-"
"A LITTLE TOO LATE FOR THAT AREN'T WE?"
A long silence fell in the living room with Arthur looking down and Alfred failing to hold back his tears. Alfred started to head for the stairs,

"I'm going to lay down for a bit, do whatever," he went up the stairs and slammed his door, which made Arthur flinch.
Arthur sat down on the couch not knowing what to do. He wants to help Alfred, but doesn't know how, for all he knows he could be throwing up right now from what he just from confronting him with. But for now, he should just leave him alone for awhile to calm down; it'll also give Arthur time to think of what to say.

After Alfred slammed his door, he stood there for a couple seconds, looking at his messy room. All of his clothes on the ground, his bed not done, and how there wasn't one hint of someone eating in here in weeks. He walked over to his bed and slammed onto it while grabbing a hold of a pillow and releasing all the tears he was holding back. He cried for about 20 minutes, and soon fell asleep.

About an hour later, Arthur decided to see how Alfred was doing. He quietly walked up the stairs to his room, and knocked on the door softly.

"Alfred? Can I come in?"

He heard nothing and assumed he was being ignored. He slowly opened the door to see that Alfred was asleep on his bed holding onto a pillow. He'd been crying. Arthur walks over to Alfred, but hears Alfred makes a sound.

"Leave me alone,"

"Alfred please, we have to talk about this—"

"Please all of you leave me alone!"

Arthur realizes that Alfred is talking in his sleep. It sounds like Alfred's having a nightmare.

"I'm not fat I'm big boned! No, no! Leave me alone I'm begging you!"

It sounded like the nightmare was getting more intense, so Arthur went to Alfred's bed and woke him up.

"Alfred wake up!"

"Huh, what?"

"You were having a nightmare,"

"Oh…go away," Alfred said as he turned over facing away from Arthur.

"Come on Alfred, we need to talk about this,"

"No we don't,"

"Yes we do, Francis and I are worried about you,"

"You told him too?"

"So you're admitting you have a problem?"

"…..leave me alone."

"Alfred—"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Alfred yelled as he pulled the covers over his head.

Arthur knew that he wasn't going to get through to him at the moment, so he just went out of Alfred's room back to the living room and sat on the couch. Today was just going to be a day to hang out and have some fun, now it's turned into a fail of an intervention. Arthur lies down on the couch since he was so tired from his flight, and noticed that one of the cushions was messed up and higher than the others. He took the cushion off the couch a saw there was something under it. A journal. Alfred's Journal. He picked it up and written on the front was "Hero's Log: (This belongs to Alfred F. Jones DO NOT OPEN!)". It was the journal he gave to him a couple months ago so he'd stop talking about stupid things so much. Who would've thought he actually wrote in it? He thought about opening it, but wasn't sure it was a good idea. I mean, it would be rude to go through his stuff…then again, Alfred always goes through his stuff when he comes over…and what's written in here could help him…he eventually decided to read the journal. He made sure Alfred wasn't about to come down, and opened the journal.

He couldn't believe what he was reading. He knew that everyone would always make fun of Alfred for eating so much, but he didn't know he took it so personally. He'd usually just shake it off or insult him back and Arthur eventually ends up choking him in the middle of meetings. Now he felt real guilty of what he's said over the years. It was his and all the other countries fault he was like this. Then he noticed that there was an entry written today when he turned the page.

March 12, 2011

I had another nightmare again. I've been having them so much lately that I can barely get any sleep. I woke up today at 4am to the TV mocking how fat I am and puked and went straight to the gym. I was probably there for about 3 hours till I came home and took a shower, now I'm just waiting for Iggy to get here. I can't keep this up forever. Well, more like I can, but I don't want to. I'm seriously screwed up right now and don't know what to do. I miss food, and I miss the old me. Whatever I've become is making me hate myself even more. Maybe I'm not just fat, maybe I am an idiot. I mean, looking at what I've done does make me look stupid. Ever since 9/11 it seems like this place has gone downhill. Now education sucks, I'm in major debt, the economy sucks, people are fighting about gay rights and are divided by pretty much everything and anything, and worst of all, and a third of this place is overweight/obese. And it's my fault. All of it. I know I'm not perfect, but things shouldn't be this bad. What have I been doing this whole time? I guess I've just been ignoring it the whole time and thinking that I'm the best thing ever. When I'm not. I'm the worst. AAAH! This makes me sound so emo, next thing you know I'm cutting my wrists and listening to heavy metal or something…okay that was kind of offensive, but still! I don't want to end up even worser (Arthur though: Worser? Really? Even when he's sad he can't write) than I am now.

"Ahem."

Arthur looked up and saw Alfred looking down at him with an irritated expression.