England laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Staring. Staring. His eyes felt dried out. So dried. He struggled to keep them open, but open they must stay. Open. Open forever. Because he was told too. He was told to keep his eyes open.
"Don't blink. Blink, and you're dead. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And Don't Blink!"
England shivered, and in doing so, accidentally blinked. He then screamed, crawling under his covers in fear.
"I DON'T WANT TO GET SENT BACK IN TIME DON'T HURT MEEEE"
He clutched his head, and put it between his knees. He stayed like that, whimpering in the darkness. After a few minutes, he deemed it safe, and slowly peeked out from under his covers. No Angels. No nothing. Just the same moonlight bedroom. Moonlight. Light.
Oh thank god. He clutched his chest and heaved a heavy sigh.
"Bloody hell I've gone batty.."
He signed, taking a chance and rubbing his eyes. They were tired. He was tired. Tired and scared out of his mind. He pulled the covers off him and put on his slippers, before shuffling into his kitchen.
"Need a cup of Earl Gray.." He got everything ready. Then, sitting on the couch with a hot cup of tea, he turned on the TV and sipped it slowly.
"… How did that ever get broadcasted? It's a family show.. bloody hell.." He scowled into his tea. He paused mid-sip, and lowered his mug.
"Well.. I guess if I was ever in danger, the Doctor would save me!"
And so England laughed, laughed for the first time since the episode would air. "Now." He said, grabbing up the remote. "Lets see if there are any Torchwood reruns on."