Ludwig nodded his head, and went back to eating, paying no mind to Italy's comment. He kept looking up though and glanced at Italy when Feli wasn't looking. Just a simple glance made his heart beat faster, and his face flush. He'd just blame it on the run, or the shower. Feliciano wasn't the only one good at excuses…
But he sure as hell was better at them.
When Ludwig was done, Feliciano took his plate, and washed them in the sink, before drying them, and stacking them in the cupboards. He began cleaning the whole kitchen. Sweeping, scrubbing, wiping, disinfecting…doing everything he could to make Ludwig happy. Ludwig would like him if he made things clean, he told himself.
Ludwig would like you if you weren't so fat.
Feli just kept the smile on his face, trying to ignore the bad thoughts, because he knew that he'd be skinny soon enough. Then he'd have Ludwig's love…then he'd feel better about himself…then other's wouldn't view him as all the bad things he thought about himself. He'd be better. Stronger. . . Perfect.
Feliciano always strived for perfection. He was always tidying his room up, though no one really could tell because it was always a mess by the end of the day. He was always organizing, and reorganizing his work papers, and files in his study. He was constantly dusting, and vacuuming. But the toughest thing he had to be perfect at was making people happy…which he felt he failed at.
Ludwig didn't enjoy the food you made…he thought to himself, and he sighed. His thoughts were probably right…he failed…he didn't make Ludwig happy this morning…just like every other day…the only time he made Ludwig happy was when they were separated, and Ludwig didn't have to baby sit him.
Feliciano mentally slapped himself for being such a screw up and making Ludwig's life a mess.
He'd be better off without you. You don't deserve him…you'll never deserve him…you don't even deserve trash…you're the scum of the earth you murderer.
With that last thought, Feliciano accidentally let a tear or two escape. He hadn't thought that in a few months…he hoped that those feelings of him being a murderer were gone…but apparently not. He wiped his eyes before Ludwig could see, but it was too late. Ludwig stood up and walked to him, grabbing his wrist.
"Are you okay, Felicaino?" he asked, worried for his friend. Feli sniffled, and wiped his eyes again with his free hand. "Si! Of course, just all this cleaning I got dust in my eyes, silly!" he chuckled adorably, cheeks red against his pale skin. Being so close to Feliciano, he noticed how pale his skin was.
He let go of Feli's wrist, and grabbed his cheeks in his hands. "Feli…dear Gott…you're as pale as my bruder…are you alright?" he asked, and felt Feliciano's clammy forehead. Feliciano gulped nervously. No one had really checked to see if he was alright before…no one other than Antonio actually…Antonio caught onto things pretty quickly when it concerned the Italy brothers (especially Romano of course)…he wasn't as thick as he appeared.
"S-si…don't worry about me, Ludwig…I'm totally fine…it's probably from all this cleaning! It's the most exercising I've done this week!" he lied through his teeth. "I'm okay." He assured. Ludwig gently and absentmindedly stroked Feli's forehead and cheek with his thumb.
"…" he didn't say anything, feeling embarrassed when he realized what he was doing, and turned away, blushing deeply, and walked off in a brisk pace. Feli was left standing there alone, feeling baffled. "…L-Ludwig?" he whispered out in confusion as to what just happened. The feeling of Ludwig's hands on his face lingered, and he smiled softly, before the bad thoughts interfered…again.
Why in the world would he ever love you? Don't even get that thought into your head! You know how worthless he, and the whole world (literally) thinks you are! Don't get conceded you gluttonous fat ass!
He sighed, trying to clean more to distract himself. Moments later, Ludwig came back into the room wearing a very nice work suit. Just the sight of Ludwig dressed so nicely made his heart flutter…just as it made Ludwig's heart flutter to see Feliciano wearing one of his cooking aprons (especially the one Prussia had gotten him that said: Kiss me, I'm German).
"Italien…we have a meeting today in an hour…did you forget…again?" he asked, a grim look on his face, maybe even a slight glare…when in reality, Ludwig was trying his hardest not to scowl…he was trying to smile actually…and look how well that was turning out.
Feliciano paled even more at the scary look Ludwig was giving him. He shook his head. "N-non! I-I didn't forget…I just lost track of time…I'll go get dressed…s-sorry!" he stuttered nervously, and put the cleaning supplies down, and dashed up the stairs in sheer fear and embarrassment.
"Dio…I thought he was going to kill me!" he muttered loudly to himself, and looked through his suitcase for his suits. He found mostly sweats, and casual clothes he wore for eating and going out into town. Finally, he came across his work suits, and took one out. He stripped to his underwear, and pulled the suit onto him. It was baggy and lose on him, hanging on him like he was a hanger too small to hold the clothing on. He looked at the body length mirror Ludwig had hanging up behind his door, and sighed harshly. He began gripping at the suit, pulling at it, trying to stretch the stiff material. It felt too tight on Feliciano…he'd rather wear sweats…but he actually never let anyone see him when he wore his sweats…he must look presentable in front of all of his friends…no…he had no friends…everyone hated him…he had to look presentable in front of his coworkers…but he felt like even that was too strong of a word, seeing as he felt that none of the nations wanted to, nor enjoyed working with Feliciano in the slightest bit.
He took deep breaths, and finally left the room after putting his shoes on. He walked down the stairs and presented himself to Ludwig. He was wearing a handsome, dark navy blue suit, with thin silver stripes running down it. The outfit suited Feliciano very well…though Ludwig noticed it looked a bit off on him.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Italien?" he asked, wanting to reach out to caress Feli's face once more, but decided it wasn't a good idea, so he didn't. Feliciano rolled his eyes playfully. "Si! Ludwig, don't be so silly, or worried. I'm. Fine. Si?" he smiled sweetly up at him, eyes remaining close. To Ludwig, it almost looked like Feliciano was tilting his head up for a kiss, but as soon as the thought came, he shoved the thought away, too afraid to think that sort of thing, fearing that Feliciano had a way of hearing his thoughts.
The well dressed Italian walked to the door.
"Well…are you coming? You can drive…I'm feeling a little tired…I'll take a siesta in the car." He smiled, opened the door, and left the house, walking to Ludwig's BMW. The two of them got into the car. Ludwig started the engine, and Feliciano laid back in the passenger's seat, falling to sleep quickly.
The car ride was very quick, seeing as the meeting was being held in Berlin (hence the reason why Feliciano was over at Ludwig's house and not his own.) Ludwig got out of the car, and opened Feliciano's door, gently shaking his arm to wake the sleeping Italian. He awoke with a start, but then smiled at Ludwig again.
"I'm awake. "he grinned, and stepped out of the car, stretching again.
He followed behind Ludwig as they walked into the meeting hall, which was being held at a hotel this time, so that the other nations who came for the meeting could stay too. As soon as Ludwig entered the room, any bickering or arguing that had been going on stopped. Everyone sat down, and acted very calm, cool, and collected…that is until America stood up, and yelled something about him being a hero and that it was his duty to save the world.
That was how all meetings went, and like always, Feliciano slept through the whole thing. It was a good time to catch up on his sleep. Even though Feliciano had some good things to say-
You never have anything good to say…you spout nonsense every time you speak…just keep your mouth shut and people will like you better.
He took it back…he had nothing to say..he'd stay quiet.
Feliciano opened his eyes when the yelling had been dead for about thirty minutes, and soon, Prussia burst through the doors singing the German version of Happy Birth Day. Feliciano had totally forgot. How could he have forgotten. He was a horrible friend to have forgotten Ludwig's and Gilbert's birthday. Feliciano stayed silent, sitting there in utter shock at himself that he forgot. He didn't even wish Ludwig a happy birthday that morning…
No wonder Ludwig hates you so much.
When the singing was over, Gilbert set the cake down on the table in front of Ludwig (and by default, in front of Feliciano too, because he sat right next to Ludwig.) Feli smelled the delicious scent of sweet, sugary icing…of burning wax from the shining candles…the delicious smell of the beautiful cake underneath everything. He needed it…he wanted to eat the whole thing right then and there.
Fat pig. You eat that whole thing, let alone one slice and the whole world will hate you even more! You're never going to be loved by Ludwig…ever…and you'll always be getting fatter and fatter with each bite…each little calorie…you want that suit to fit you better…then don't even look at the cake…leave the room…NOW!
And like a robot, he obeyed the voice in his head. Right when Ludwig blew out the candles on his cake, Feliciano slipped out of his chair, and out of the room, hopefully no one saw him.
When he was out of the meeting room, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of diet pills he had bought from a pharmacy. Supposedly, they'll help you not crave food, so you don't eat as much! Or in Feli's case…don't eat anything. The recommended dose was one pill every three hours or so…he took three every hour. It wouldn't hurt him…much. He was a nation…nations don't get sick by things human's get sick by that often…he thought that he wouldn't get sick from the pills either. He went over to the water fountain, put the pills in his mouth, and drank some water, swallowing the three capsules down.
He chocked a little bit, but managed to breathe eventually. He smiled to himself…feelings of hunger, and the urges to eat leaving his body and stomach…but not his mind. All of his thoughts it felt like were focused on him eating that cake.
Eat.
Don't eat.
Binge. Eat the whole thing.
Don't eat.
Lick the platter clean.
Don't eat.
Don't eat.
Don't eat.
Don't eat…
Feliciano decided to do the best choice…not eat. He left the building. He walked right out the door without even looking back. He hated himself so much in that moment…so much it was making it hard for him to breathe.
Oh …n-no! Not again!
He began to worry, and freak out. He could feel a panic attack coming on any moment now…they usually happened every time Feliciano felt like he had royally screwed up…so they happened very often. He tried to calm his breathing, and not panic in front of so many people, so he ran as fast as he could in his dress shoes, and work suit, and ran to the most alone place he could find. He went into an ally way, and hid in the corner behind some trash cans. No one would find him back there…and the odd stranger passing by the ally way would leave him alone, thinking that he was probably some homeless man going crazy. That's what he felt like…he felt crazy. Insane…
You are insane, Feliciano. The voice reminded him.
Feli's body shook, and trembled as he held himself in a ball like way, holding his knees to his chest. He covered his face with his hands, using them as a paper bag almost to keep him breathing, to help stop him from hyperventilating. He shut his eyes tightly, and slowly but surely, he began to calm down.
That one had been short in comparison to some of his earlier ones…but now that he was older, he was also wiser. He knew how to control (for the most part) his panic attacks. They weren't as frequent as they were when they first started the day Holy Rome had left for war. They've decreased drastically, something he was actually a little bit proud of.
When he felt like he was safe, and had calmed down enough, he stood up, dusted himself off, and walked out of the ally. Turns out, the panic attack had lasted longer than he thought. The meeting was already over, and all the nations were sitting outside, talking with one another, celebrating Ludwig's birthday, handing him presents. They were doing everything Feliciano should have been doing since he first saw Ludwig that morning. He was the worst friend in the world. He felt tears well up in his eyes again, but refused to let them fall. He turned the corner of the ally's entrance, and looked at everyone having a good time…without him.
They don't need you to be happy…they're so much happier when you're not with them…just look at them…they're all probably talking about how much they hate you…that's their favorite thing to talk about…how useless and horrible and fat you are.
With that thought running through his mind, Feliciano ran off, trying to find a taxi, but to no avail .He finally just gave up and began taking his suit jacket off, and the nice shirt he had on underneath off as well, till he was only in an undershirt. He left his pants and shoes on, and dropped his clothes in hand to the floor. He bolted away from the party sceene, trying his hardest not to look back. He managed to do so, and also managed not to cry. Crying was for when you were sad. Feliciano wasn't sad. He was angry. Angry at himself for forgetting. Angry at himself for being such a failure. Angry at himself for even having the thought of wanting to eat even a crumb of the cake.
He ran through the streets, gracefully avoiding person after person, and soon ran all the way to Germany's home (which was a good ten miles away). Feli was already sore and tired from his morning run, but managed to stay energized enough to make it back to the Beilschmidt residence. He opened the door with the spare key Ludwig had given him, and went to the room he shared with Ludwig when he would visit. He packed all of his things away into his suit case, and sat on top of it, sobbing into his hands.
Then, an idea came to mind. A wonderful idea that always made him happy…when it went right at least. He stripped to bare skin like he did this morning, and walked to the bathroom. He stepped carefully onto the scale, and waited for the number to appear.
109.3 lbs.
IT WENT UP! Feliciano began to tremble in anger, and in fear. He began to panic a bit again, but not nearly as bad as he had earlier. He didn't even bother remembering that your weight fluctuates five pounds (give or take) every day. That it goes up as the day goes on. He cried hysterically, and began scratching at his arms, face, stomach…well, pretty much everywhere. He scratched until there were tears in his skin and he was bleeding.
He felt much better after that. The scratching was just like purging to him. It got out all of his feelings. It got rid of all of his stress. He deserved to hurt himself…just as he deserved to throw up. He deserved no kindness, no joy, nothing good until he was perfect. Leaving scars on his body would remind him that he needed to become perfect, and that one day he'd reach it.
When Feliciano had calmed down, and the sting from the scratches had worn of just a bit, he went over to the bed and laid down, too scared, too angry, too sad to do anything else. Too tired to hear it when the front door opened, and Ludwig stepped inside, because by then, Feliciano had already fallen asleep, his open scratches bleeding out onto the clean, white sheets.
You deserve to bleed.