Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.

This is a story where our beloved England happens to be struggling with the eating disorder pica.

Why I decided to write this: I've been trying to find a fanfiction in the hetalia fandom about literally any character having pica, and was a little disappointed that I wasn't able to find any. That's when I decided after doing some more research on the disorder, "Why not write a fanfiction where England has pica? It might actually be believable." For those of you who are not sure what pica is, it is a disorder in which an individual eats items with no nutritional value as a way to cope. It is common in people who suffer with schizophrenia, OCD, and stress, and also those who have starved most of their life, and are therefore malnourished. Since I believe that England has in fact starved often as a child (based off a head canon), seems to go under a lot of stress, and I'm very certain he is schizophrenic, I decided that he would qualify. Besides, it could also explain why other nations might say that he has a terrible taste in food. Of course, I do not consider this theory (if you can even call it that) canon, but instead, consider it to be more of a what if.

I understand that some unfortunate individuals with pica suffer with lead poisoning, and go through a lot of agony if and when their intestines become clogged with something that wasn't even edible. I am in no way trying to offend anyone who has, or have had this eating disorder.

Trigger warnings: As I've mentioned before, there is an eating disorder involved with this story. Another heads up is that some of the content might (more like will be) graphic.

Reviews are always welcomed.

England never really understood why he was addicted to eating objects with absolutely no nutritional value. It was just a habit of his, and a secret that he hid from the other nations quite well. He knew perfectly well that his habit was very strange, and at times was slightly ashamed of it. Unfortunately, the shame was not nearly enough for him to stop, since he still found a lot of joy in scarfing down different fabrics, chewing on leather, eating paper, or whatever wasn't poisonous. It was by far his worst covert, and no one was allowed to find out.

England was currently reviewing his his presentation for the world meeting that was to take place the next day. Much to the Brit's misfortune, the meeting was going to take place in America. By far one of his least favorite countries to spend the night in. To make the situation much worse, he had forgotten to pack up some spare food, since he was in such a hurry to make his flight. Of course, England could've just bought some food in America, but just for the sake of his pride, he was not going to eat anything made in a country he almost couldn't bare. Well, I guess things could be worse, England thought bitterly as he continued to gaze at his notes, Just imagine how terrible things would be if this stupid meeting was being hosted in France.

Suddenly, the British nation's thoughts began to trail off as he continued to stare at his notes. Of course, they were extremely important, but England just couldn't help but notice how appetizing they suddenly became. Perhaps just one bite? He questioned mentally as his mouth began to water. It was almost as if England's mind had been set to autopilot as he commenced a mindless binge on his notes. Before he knew it, there was no a single scrap of paper left on his desk, and it didn't take long at all for the Brit to realize what he just did.

"Great," England was hardly able to refrain from starting a cussing storm out of his frustration, "I wasn't even halfway finished with planning out my presentation. Why couldn't I just find something else to fill up my stupid stomach?"

England did in fact seem to be right when he called his stomach stupid. After all, the organ didn't even seem to acknowledge the paper he had just swallowed in his attempt to stifle his hunger. Therefore, England walked over to his suitcase to see if he could find some unwanted clothing to eat. That was when he happened to find a long scarf coiled up in a forgotten, dark corner in the suitcase, no longer overshadowed by a stack of shirts. Lifting the scarf up, he asked himself, "Since when did I get a scarf like this, and how long has it been stuffed in here?"

He examined the length of the scarf, and continued to question, "Should I even bother eating this? It seems to be such an inappropriate thing to do to a scarf like this. What if I need it one day?"

For a moment, England continued to stare desperately at the scarf before finally sighing, "It looks as if I'm going to have to keep it. Seriously now, no one can eat a scarf this long without choking in the process."

Before England could tuck the scarf back into the suitcase, he heard a voice demand, "Don't put it away, eat it."

The Brit immediately paused as soon as he saw a perky light green rabbit fly right in front of him, and land on his suitcase. With a frown, England explained, "Flying Mint Bunny, I really don't think it would be safe to eat this entire scarf."

"Why not?" Flying Mint Bunny inquired, "You're hungry aren't you? It's not often that you come across such a decent amount of food. Just think about all of those years you've nearly starved to death in your childhood, and tell me this is a terrible idea."

Once more, England studied the length of the scarf before finally giving in, "Alright, if you insist. Besides, I could just cut the scarf up into smaller pieces so that it'll be easier to swallow."

"Don't," Flying Mint Bunny's voice was urgent, "Just swallow the scarf whole, so that you don't grow hungry too soon."

"Okay." England replied reluctantly before he obediently began to shove one end of the scarf into his mouth. An uncomfortable heat began to pinch at the back of the Brit's neck while the fabric remained in his mouth. He allowed himself to take a deep breath before he finally began to swiftly shove the scarf down his throat. Once in awhile he would stop to gag, but never would he even consider taking the scarf out before it was too late to give up. By the time the rest of the scarf had finally managed to slither down his throat, tears gathered up in his eyes. England had never felt so awkward in his life. He felt violated internally from how the scarf happened to slide down into his stomach. Flying Mint Bunny smiled with approval at the sight, and commented, "It's nice to be a nation, isn't it? You probably would've died if you did that as a human."

Oh god. Why did I even bother to go through with this? With a groan, England retorted, "I thought I could trust you. Why in the world would you tell me to do something if you thought it would be fatal to a human?"

"But there's no reason for you to not trust me," Flying Mint Bunny assured, his expression innocent and adorable as it usually was, "Just because I assumed that it would be fatal for a human, doesn't mean that it would cause any harm to a nation. Trust me, you'll be fine."

England shut his eyes tightly, and wrapped his arms around his stomach in an attempt to soothe the pain, "Whatever you say, my friend."

England then walked over to his bed, and decided to lie down on his stomach in hopes that it would ease the agony the only continued to intensify. Flying Mint Bunny seemed to notice that something was wrong with his friend, so he decided to curl up next to England in an attempt to comfort him. In response, the Brit began to stroke between the rabbit's ears. After all, it wasn't often that Flying Mint Bunny and him would cuddle. England's voice was nearly a whisper as he said, "Goodnight Flying Mint Bunny."

The bunny snuggled closer to England, and replied, "G'night Arthur."

For a moment, England couldn't help, but worry when he thought about how he wasn't prepared for his presentation. Fortunately, the worry didn't last for long as he assured himself, It's not like it would be the first time a nation wasn't prepared for a meeting, so I should be fine. Besides, I don't really care at this point anyways. My stupid stomach is killing me. He was still uncertain about eating an entire scarf, but decided to try and ignore these concerns, Come on, Flying Mint Bunny would never try to hurt me. Besides, what's the worst that could happen if that did happen to be his intention?

England would often doubt the word of another nation, since he could be pretty skeptical (At least he considered himself skeptical. Other nations would describe him as being more stubborn.), but never could he doubt the word of Flying Mint Bunny. He could always trust the adorable rabbit.