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Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot and setting. Additionally, I'm not an expert on teaching and blindness. All information stems from observation and speculation. Please do not reference.

Enjoy! We're finally on the last stretch!

Nihilism

"Vision is the art of seeing things invisible."
—Jonathan Swift

The art show was only two weeks after the spring concert. For days, Francis and Arthur had decorated the hallway between the art room and the gym, which was placed right at the entrance and dead centre of the school. Then the walls were lined with the drawings picked out of students' portfolios created throughout the school year.

A few students had decided to submit artwork they had made outside of school, and Francis enthusiastically collected them all and lined the extra space with them, even if they were pots or oil painting, and they stuck out when compared to the many graphite, monochrome sketches that the rest of the students drew.

A particular watercolour painting stuck out the most with its faded out splash of pastel colours. The painting was easily the centre piece, and Francis put it in the centre of the exhibit, as per Arthur's suggestion. Students of varying aesthetic tastes flocked to see the picture, and the artist's name and praise were murmured throughout the school body. It seemed like everybody wanted to see that great masterpiece, and while advertising for the art show, Arthur had included it as the flyer graphic.

Unfortunately, even with the great reception for that particular painting and its fame, not many people attended the art show. Only a select few parents of art enthusiasts decided to come after school to look at the rows and rows of sketches and the handful of miscellaneous paintings. Due to the scarce reception, Francis and Arthur agreed to put a second art show during school, and let the whole student body, rather than just those who were interested, look.

Although more people were around, the art show felt strange to Arthur. He watched students walk by sketches and paintings and give each work only a cursory glance before moving on. And batches of them were grouped up, discussing things other than the art show itself. All in all, it felt dull. Arthur was stuck only eyeing mischievous students out to vandalise others' hard work. But even those troublemakers eventually died down with the art show's rather limp atmosphere, and Arthur was stuck simply standing around and wondering where Francis was.

The final bell eventually rang, signalling the end of the school day, and people were filing out. That was when Arthur finally decided to get out of his little spot at the edge of the hallway to look for Francis. He passed by many students, and he could hear the quiet, or the not-so-quiet whispering flittering in the air.

"I wish Mr Bonnefoy let us do other stuff."

"Yeah… Sketching is so dull, and it's not even interesting to look at."

"The lessons stink too; I didn't even improve, even though my grades went up."

"Nobody has."

"The drawings in general are worse than last year's, and I thought those were pretty bad too."

"None of the drawings made sense."

"I only liked the pots people made. Those were cool."

"Well, only if Mr Bonnefoy taught us something other than just pencil sketches."

Arthur found Francis by the centrepiece. Francis was simply standing there, facing the painting. He didn't move at all, even when flocks of students were jostling around him to get out. For a split moment, Arthur wondered if he had heard all those comments floating about.

Taking a spot next to Francis, Arthur tapped Francis' hand and asked, "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you are just… standing here. For a moment, I had thought a student had carved a statue of you and put it here." Arthur chuckled.

Francis didn't laugh along. His expression remained flat behind the pair of sunglasses. "I was just appreciating this work."

"I see…" Arthur nodded and looked at the painting.

"She must have put a lot of work and time into this."

"She did."

"It's so beautiful…"

"It is."

There was a pause. Arthur waited for Francis to say something else, but he didn't. With a sigh, Arthur tapped Francis' hand again. "Well, I think we better start cleaning things up."

"All right."

But Francis didn't move. Neither did Arthur. Silence reigned over the hallway as the last of the students had left. The whole area was still—no movement, no words, no sounds. It was just Arthur, Francis, and the colours. Eventually, Arthur turned his head to face the painting before him. It certainly was beautiful. He could look at it all day without registering what it was, and he wondered if this was what Francis was thinking about. He was looking, but not seeing; he could feel thoughts flutter around in the back of his head.

"Arthur?" Francis' voice shook. "Are you still here?"

"Yeah. Of course I am."

Francis fell silent again. Arthur, waiting for a response, looked over at Francis again. But no words came. Then Arthur looked back at the painting again. A hand reached out and grabbed Francis' shaking one. Tugging on Francis' hand, Arthur said, "Let's go."

For a moment, Arthur wondered if Francis had noticed the tears hiding behind the sunglasses.

"All right." Finally, Francis took a step away from the painting.