A/N: *Squeals happily* Thank you all so much for the support! I honestly had no idea this story would attract so much attention. But it did, and I'm happy, so here's an early update ^J^

If you want to know why I didn't respond to your reviews personally, read my profile. Just know that it has nothing to do with you, dear reader. Hopefully you understand? Please don't hate me…

Roman Empire is Signor Vargas and Herr Beilschmidt is Germania, by the way. It's not one of the Italian or German brothers xD

Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. Nichts. Non. Nyet. Do not own Hetalia.

The bell rang just as Alfred stepped inside the classroom. Mr. Adnan, the homeroom and Physical Education teacher, glanced meaningfully at him to take his seat in the back. When the blonde did, the teacher walked up to the front and greeted, "Sınıf Merhaba."

"Merhaba öğretmenim," Alfred and the class responded back, rolling their eyes. Why they had to greet each other in Turkish, the American had no clue. It wasn't as if this was Turkish Class, so what was the point? Yeah, it sounded cool when Mr. Adnan said it; but that was only because he was a native speaker. Whenever Alfred – not a native speaker – tried saying it aloud to himself, it sounded stupid and clumsy. Most of the other students in the class sounded like that too. But the teacher refused to be greeted any other way, so the only way to go was one way and one way only: Speak Turkish.

It's not so bad, Alfred thought unwillingly, pulling out a pen and tapping it against his desk to create a rhythm. The teacher didn't seem to notice or care and had started to call out roll-call.

The noise seemed to annoy those sitting near him, though. And a small, petite girl with platinum blonde hair sitting in front of him turned around and shot him a nasty look. When he ignored her, she hissed, "Stop that, you stupid American."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "What makes you think I'm stupid, sweetheart?" he asked.

Dark blue eyes met icily with his light blue ones and the girl simply stated, "All Americans are stupid."

"You'd be surprised, Nat. Not all of 'em are. Besides, it's not like you Belarusians are any better either."

"My name is Natalya, not Nat!"

"Well nice to meet you Natalya, my name's Alfred," Alfred mocked, sticking out his hand and smirking.

Natalya's face twisted in fury, but oddly she didn't do anything. For a second the American wondered just what the Belarusian was up to, until he saw her eyes sizing him up. That got him to stop smirking pronto and all he could think about was: Oh god, what if she sees how fat I am?

He put his hands on his lap and squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. Normally, when he didn't feel so bloated, he would seize the opportunity to say, "You like what you see?" while striking a pose. That question and pose made most of the girls blush and look away, while others simply scowled and glared at him. But today was not one of those days for Alfred. Today he didn't think he could pull it off, least of all to Natalya, who was now narrowing her eyes. To be quite frank, all he wanted to do now was to shrink out of eyesight and disappear. At least until he wasn't as fat. Maybe then he would have the guts to try his little act on her.

Alfred was about to say something – anything to distract her, really – when Mr. Adnan's voice boomed, "Natalya Arlovskaya! Alfred F. Jones! Stop flirting with each other and pay attention!"

Both students jumped in surprise and Natalya quickly turned around muttering, "I wasn't flirting with him."

The teacher seemed to have heard and his gaze hardened albeit with some amusement. "Then what exactly were you two doing?"

Natalya scowled at him and snapped, "None of your business, old man!"

A murmur of "ooohhh" went around the classroom and some people snickered. The teacher quirked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head disapprovingly. But the girl didn't lighten up her stare or apologize, rather she sat as straight as she could and glared harder. Alfred got the message she was trying to convey. I am sticking to my words and not apologizing. It appeared Mr. Adnan got it too, because the words he were about to say died on his tongue. Instead, he said, "Touché, Natalya, touché. Just know next time I will not tolerate such behavior. So this is Warning Number 1 for you, matmazel.

"As for you, Alfred," he continued, "kindly do not distract your fellow students. This is also your warning. Are we clear?"

Both students nodded at their teacher.

A small smile broke out on Mr. Adnan's face. "Good," he exclaimed before turning his attention back to roll-call.

Alfred didn't even begin to try to pay attention now; he knew that Mr. Adnan knew that he was present. So with nothing to do, he got out his spiral notebook from his backpack. It was a ragged and beaten up red notebook that the American used at least once a week to draw or doodle in. Whether it was for fun or to get away from reality, he would make cartoons of superheroes saving the day and villains having their asses whooped. He admired that about superheroes. How they always, always trumped their opponent. Even the women superheroes like Wonder Woman did. And how they had these kickass sidekicks (who were hot, Alfred had to admit) that would help out the hero and were loyal to him/her (most of the time). Or how they always got the girl…

But the part that Alfred admired most was how heroic and selfless superheroes were. That goal to protect people - to rescue them when they were in trouble - appealed to him far greater than all the others. And Alfred swore up, down, and across his heart that he would be the superhero for somebody someday. Even when he had been a small child in the orphanage alone with Matthew, he swore it.

But who would want a fat superhero? His dad's voice cut into his thoughts suddenly, a sharp edge of a knife. Alfred gritted his teeth and flung the notebook papers to a new page, which was toward the back. Quickly, he pressed the pen into the page and started to draw. He needed a distraction, and he needed it now.

A few moments later, just as the blonde teenager was immersing himself into the comic, someone flung a note at him. It hit him in the face and dropped onto the ground. Alfred looked up, half annoyed and half curious, to see who had thrown the note, but the only clue he got was Natalya turning swiftly around in her chair. He raised an eyebrow at her back and picked up the paper wondering what she had written on it. It's just probably her blaming something on me, he thought. Quickly, he glanced around to make sure Mr. Adnan wasn't nearby; and when he saw that he wasn't did he open the note.

But as soon as Alfred read it, he wished he didn't. It seemed as though someone had noticed after all, and that thought was almost too much to bear. Alfred wanted to scream. He wanted to curse and punch the walls. He wanted to run and exercise forever and ever until his body collapsed. But the one thing he wanted to do the most was curl up in a corner and cry. Just cry until he fell asleep. At least when he was unconscious he was safe.

The American read the note again, eyes misting up. It was just a sentence, but a sentence was all he needed.

All Americans are fat; oh pardon me – not all of them, but you at least.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Alfred's spirits couldn't have been more down. Not only did his morning at school (and home!) start out shitty, but it appeared to carry out throughout the rest of the classes too.

In Science he had forgotten his homework at home, so the teacher naturally gave him a zero. Alfred honestly didn't care a bit until the teacher also gave him detention. For what reason, the teenager had no clue. But he did and now it was just a hop-skip-and-a-phone-call-away from getting grounded over nothing.

Then later in Art, Alfred was putting the finishing touches on his Roy Lichtenstein project when the paint had spilled all over his work. It had taken him a week just to create everything and there he went and screwed it all up with a misplaced hand! Mr. Vargas – or Signor Vargas, as he liked to be called (what was up with the foreign teachers, Al had no clue) – had told him not to worry and that he had extra time to turn it in. That was a plus, although it really felt like a minus.

And finally in German 3, Herr Beilschmidt decided to call on Alfred to answer the hardest of questions. And even with Gilbert sitting next to him and whispering the answers in undertone, he still fumbled through the words. The teacher had made a huge show of giving him low marks, and that made the American sink lower into his seat.

All in all he couldn't see how much worse the day could get.

Entering the cafeteria, Alfred quickly found his group of friends sitting at a table towards the back entrance. He walked towards them slightly happier, at least he had friends. "Hey guys," he said a moment later, waving as he sat down.

Feliciano, a bubbly Italian with a strange curl, was the first to see him. "Ve~," he exclaimed. "Ciao, Alfred!"

"Hey Feli," Alfred responded, laughing at the brunette's excitement.

"Look guys, look! Alfred's here!"

Slowly, the rest of the small group of friends turned their heads to say hello – except for Gilbert, who was out buying lunch. The group included Feliciano; Ludwig, a stoic German and Gilbert's brother; Matthew, Alfred's own Canadian brother who was extremely shy and soft-spoken; Kiku, an otaku but very polite Japanese boy; Yao, Kiku's older Chinese brother who loved food; and Gilbert, an albino who claimed he was Prussian and "awesome". All together, they were a weird bunch. But Alfred liked it that way, and it seemed that the rest of them did too.

"Konnichiwa, Alfred-kun," Kiku greeted, bowing his head at Alfred.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Dude," he started, "I don't see why you still do that. We're friends, remember? You can be casual with me."

"B-But –"

"Listen to Alfred, aru!" Yao interjected from across the table. "You're no longer in Japan!"

The Japanese teenager glared at his older brother. "Hai, I know. But I was just being polite."

The atmosphere grew thick as the two engaged in a staring contest. That was normal due to the fact Kiku didn't like Yao very much. Meanwhile, Alfred had started a conversation with Ludwig on the topic of history, something they shared a common ground with.

"Okay dude, so you know Napoleon?" The American asked while watching his friend eat, silently envying him.

Ludwig nodded a "yes" while swallowing his food.

"What do you think was his biggest flaw?"

"Are you seriously asking me this?"

"Uh, yeah dude."

"Gott, I don't know. If anything it was probably his try of attacking Russia."

"Really, you think so? Not the XYZ Affair?" Alfred asked.

Before Ludwig could answer, Gilbert made his appearance known by slamming his tray on the table and exclaiming, "Never fear, peasants! The King of Awesome is here! Kesesese~"

Everyone's attention turned to the albino. Even Kiku and Yao stopped glaring at each other to look. Ludwig's face turned red with embarrassment at being his brother and Matthew rolled his eyes. "That's a new one," the Canadian muttered.

Nobody seemed to hear him except for Gilbert. Smirking, he slid into a seat next to Matthew and right across from Alfred. "Why yes, Birdie," he acknowledged. "I just made it up two seconds ago. Do you like it~?"

"Do you want the truth? Or do you want the lie?"

"Truth! After all, the Awesome Me can take anything!"

"Well, not to be rude or anything, but it was kind of…lame."

"Was?!" Gilbert exclaimed in offense the same time Matthew turned to Alfred. "Where's your lunch?" The blonde asked his brother.

Alfred's good mood suddenly disappeared. But he knew Mattie would notice, so he put on a fake smile. "I'm not hungry," he lied.

Matthew narrowed his eyes and studied Alfred, who shifted in his seat a little. For as long as he had known him, his younger brother had never ever been "not hungry". He was always asking when the next meal was or when he could get something to eat. This was easily not normal behavior. At all. And the Canadian wanted to know why and what was going on. He didn't like it when he was lied to.

Suddenly a loud gurgling noise erupted from the American's stomach, proving Matthew right, but Alfred pretended not to notice. Instead, he rested his head on his hands and looked his older brother. "So," he began, "you left today with Gil again."

The accusation was so blunt and unexpected, the Canadian had to blush. Gilbert snickered and slung an arm around him and answered, "Ja, he did."

"When? I didn't see you leave."

"I think it was when you were taking a shower. Though for once the Awesome Me can't be sure. Birdie?"

"O-Oui, it was when you were taking a shower, Al," Matthew confirmed.

"Why?"

"I had band this morning, remember? Gil offered me a lift."

"Oh," was all Alfred said before he started to pick at the table, eyes cast down. You were in there for forty minutes…Gilbert came by while you were wasting water. He's already gone; the memory of his dad's words replayed in Alfred's mind. God, how much time was he wasting just looking at a scale and mirror? How much time was he spending working out lately? Was it really so much that he was starting to estrange himself from his family? And for what?! Alfred thought bitterly. Something's obviously not working. But what is it?

And then Arthur's voice sounded again saying, Not like you need any more calories or food…worked out more…ate less…lose weight.

Suddenly Alfred realized where he was going wrong. Of course! Why didn't he see it before? God, why hadn't he tried it before? Surely he wasn't as stupid as Natalya claimed him to be. Fat, yes, but not stupid…

"Alfred? Hey Al, what's wrong?" Matthew's voice cut through his thoughts.

Alfred looked up. "Huh?" He asked.

"You zoned out a bit, what happened?" Gilbert clarified.

"Oh nothing," Alfred lied again, regaining his composure and giving a small chuckle. "I was just thinking."

His brother gave him an odd look, so Alfred looked about the table to see what the others were up to. But when he saw all the food out, his stomach lurched unexpectedly. Instead of seeing his friends talking, all he saw was the food. And with the food, he could only guess the number of calories and fat stored in them. And with the calories and fat, he started to feel a little nauseous. Not very much – just a small churning in his stomach – but it was enough for him to not ask for any food. It's not like you need any more…

Standing up abruptly, he turned to Matthew and said, "Look, I gotta go. See you at home, okay?"

His brother didn't get a chance to reply before Alfred hurriedly walked away. Away from his friends, away from the food, and away from all the calories. The farther the better, in his mind at least.

His stomach rumbled in protest, but Alfred didn't care. If starving himself for a bit was the only way he was going to get skinny, so be it. He could starve. He could do it. And no one would tell him otherwise. Heck, maybe even his dad would be proud. And it was just going to be until he got the body he wanted, it wasn't going to be forever.

Yes, Alfred thought, I'll show them. I'll show Natalya, Dad, Mattie, Papa, Gilbert, all of them. I'll show them I'm not going to be fat anymore.

The American was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had walked right into the restroom. When he did finally notice, he quickly looked around to make sure no one was in there. Thankfully no one was, so he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. Alfred twisted this way and that, sucking in his gut so he could at least seem skinny.

The teenager was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't notice the door open and another student walk in until the other exclaimed, "What are you doing, Jones?"

Translations:

Sınıf Merhaba – Hello class (Turkish)

Merhaba öğretmenim – Hello teacher (Turkish)

matmazel – Mademoiselle (Turkish)

Ciao – Hello (Italian)

Konnichiwa – Hello (Japanese)

Hai – Yes (Japanese)

Gott - God (German)

Was – What (German)

Ja – Yes (German)

Oui – Yes (French)