England froze, not moving a muscle, his unseeing eyes wide. 'No, no, they're wrong. Is this a joke? Did they even take the bandages off yet?' He reached up and touched the area around his eyes, but only feeling smooth skin. 'This...This doesn't feel real. Wait, maybe it isn't? Maybe this is another dream. Another nightmare. I didn't wake up yet, did I?' He thought, trying to explain to himself why he could only see black. He listened to his denying thoughts, but didn't come even close to believing himself.
Meanwhile, America was fighting back tears. 'No. Heroes don't cry. Don't even think about it,' his mind told him, 'Don't scare him.' He cleared his throat, attempting to make his voice sound sturdy. "B-But, it's temporary, right?" he asked, crossing his fingers on his lap.
Dr. Ellensburgh shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not. The damage to his eyes was too servere for us to completely fix in one shot. I'm sorry."
America stared at the doctor disbelievingly. "N-No, you can't be sorry. Try again! Give him another operation! Y-You can't just shut the door on us!" he yelled at Dr. Ellensburgh.
Said doctor shook his head again. "I'm sorry, but we can't-"
"Try! I can't have him blind, that can't happen! I won't accept it."
Throughout America's fit, England had just been staring into nothing, barely hearing America through his pounding heart. He couldn't be blind, he has to see in order to do ordinary, key things! He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could think. If he was blind, then he wouldn't be able to fight, at least well. He could be attacked in this state, and he wouldn't be able to see the enemy to decide a strategy! He clutched his chest, his breathing quickening and his body shaking. 'This isn't isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.' he thought to himself over and over again. 'It can't be. I need my eyes.'
"I'll...leave you alone for now." the doctor said uncertainly before walking out the door.
"H-Hey, wait! You still have some explaining to do!" he shouted at him, nearly running through the door himself, but then he saw England and stopped.
"E-England, I...I don't know what to say," he said, shakily.
"You don't have to say anything. Words won't fix it," England replied, bluntly and unsteadily. 'It's not real. It's not. It can't be.' he thought, his now pale, wide eyes staring down at his lap.
America just stood there for a second, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. He finally moved to the bleak, white hospital bed and sat down next to England, who had closed his eyes tight. "E-England, I...I'm sorry," he said, looking at England in anguish.
"It's not your fault. Why do you Americans always apologize for things that are none of your concern? I'm blind, and nothing can change that now," he said, his voice cracking and unsteady.
America looked down at his own hands. "We...We do it when there's no one else who will," he said. "We're sorry we couldn't do anything."
"Well you could've done something!" England suddenly shouted, eyes tearing up. "If you had just stayed quiet in that car, then none of this would've happened! It's your fault, you bastard!" he said frantically. He fell onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow.
America froze where he was, a mixture of extreme shock and hurt from England's words. "E-England-" he began.
"Just leave, will you?" England said, his voice filled with tears and fear for what would come.
America winced and thought about arguing that he should stay, but stopped himself before they even started. He nodded, getting up and reluctantly walking out of the room with one last glance at the form in the covers.
