At the time he hadn't cared. What was an ear more or less? The only thing that bothered him slightly was that now him and Fred could be told apart but even that was insignificant compared with the danger of the war that loomed over them all casting ugly shadows where there should be none.
Then Fred died.
He couldn't describe the time that came after his death even if he wanted to. All he knew is that he receded back into his own mind, talking to no one and caring for nothing.
What made it harder was that every time he looked in the mirror he saw Fred's face looking back at him. He felt all of the sorrow, pain and guilt hit him as if it were the first time. He didn't see how he would ever make it through this.
But he did.
Slowly but surely he began to live his life once more. The pain was still there; he doubted whether it would ever full go away, but now he could recall the good times and he even found himself looking forward to what the future might hold.
It had all started one day when he walked past a mirror. He felt the pain at the forefront of his mind and the familiar need to run from his own reflection but something made him stop.
As he turned he saw the mangled scar that marked where his ear used to be. The scar that marked him as different. When he looked back in the mirror for the first time in months he saw himself staring back, not Fred. He looked drawn and ill; completely unlike he used to look but it was still him.
It was almost as if he could hear a voice in the back of his head telling him that this is not what Fred would have wanted and no matter how he tried to ignore it, it just grew louder and more insistent until, eventually, he realised it was right.
It was time to start living again.