Silence, as it seemed, was the best friend of room ten. The amount of pauses that had settled in it were astounding and competed with the awkward silences you had, whenever you caught your best friend snogging your romantic interest.
The waiter, apparently named "Arthur Kirkland", eventually spoke up, noticing that the others weren't about too.
"What?" he asked, wondering what he had said wrong.
The customers didn't reply. They were confused. How could this man be named Arthur Kirkland? Wasn't that England's human name? But it couldn't be England… Could it? How was that possible? No, it's probably another cruel coincidence, played by reality… Right? It wasn't the first time something like this had happened… But would it kill to have hope? Could they dare…
Was this person England or another nation-look-a-like?
"Sorry, we just had a friend who went by the same name..." China finally said. The waiter was silent.
"Are you blind?" Spain carefully asked, when the waiter made it clear that he wasn't about to talk any time soon.
"... Yes, of course I am. Otherwise I wouldn't be working here, would I?" the waiter replied, jokingly. Each nation let out a sigh of disappointment.
That settled it, right? Nations don't go blind. That had never happened before and would never happen in the future. This was just a very unlikely coincidence and a very cruel trick of nature or reality. Probably both.
"Now, if you'd like to pay...?" The waiter finally asked… also sounding disappointed. How strange. Maybe it was just their imagination. Yeah, that's it.
"Of course we'd like to pay dude! Off to the reception! Heroes first!" America replied with false cheeriness.
The waiter helped them to the doors, then went back to the table to clear things up.
They left without having ever seen the face of their waiter.
Eleven-thirty something. The last customers had long finished their late dinner and left, now the few workers still there were busy cleaning up the restaurant and preparing it for the next day.
Kiku and Feliciano had both already gone home, but Arthur had volunteered to help clean up. He was still helping out and was currently cleaning room ten.
"What was that?" Arthur asked alarmed, when his foot kicked an unknown object. He put down the serviettes and got to his knees, searching for the thing.
He had to feel for quite a while, guessing roughly where the object could have ended up. Eventually he found it. It turned out to be a phone.
"... One of the customers must have forgotten it," he muttered to himself, feeling the object for a while, so he could recognize it, if he ever held it again.
Sighing, Arthur pocketed the item, deciding to leave it in the lost-and-found box later, once he'd finished tidying up room ten.
How Arthur had managed to be the last one out, he didn't know. Apart from his boss, all other workers had long left. It was a little after one o'clock, which made Arthur wonder how he had ended up at his workplace so long. He usually left it at eleven, like everyone else.
He wrapped his scarf around his face, giving it and his neck protection from the cold. Why did he decide to stay in the north? It was freezing! Well, they do say Brits are crazy, he supposed.
He fixed his hat properly, as he turned around.
"Bye!" he called out, when he heard Mr. Connors leave the restaurant. The boss responded by saying good night, soon leaving Arthur to himself. He sighed and tapped along the road, making his way home. His thoughts almost automatically wandered to the incident at lunchtime.
Just briefly he had hoped that he had bumped into someone who knew him.
That brief moment, he thought that someone could tell him more about himself. Who he was, where he'd lived… Heck, what he liked.
But as soon as he mentioned he was blind, the small group lost interest.
And he thought he had finally met someone who knew him from before whatever had happened to him had happened.
After all, Arthur Kirkland had been found in a dumpster with Lilli about a year ago, both battered and unconscious and, as it turned out when they woke up at the hospital, amnesic. They remembered their names (to an extent), but otherwise, nothing.
Sighing, Arthur walked down the streets, to the subway, not realising that he still had the phone he'd found in his pocket.
At maybe two or four in the morning, America had a sudden realisation.
Maybe it was possible that the Arthur Kirkland he'd met at lunch time was England! Maybe the Brit was just amnesic (although, how that was possible…)!
America bit his lip, wishing that he'd seen the waiter. Then, maybe, it could have been England!
But before he got too excited, he should check on how the actual country itself, not the (possibly no longer missing) personification, was faring.
Country's usually fell ill or got injured when something bad happened to or in their country, like how England fell ill once, because so many of his people caught the common cold or when America got injured from the attack on Pearl Harbour.
Sure, a nation had never gone blind before, but anything's possible, right?
After all, no one thought it was possible for the countries to all disappear within the same year without a trace… It wasn't like they could decide what was and wasn't possible any more…
He pulled out a laptop from underneath his bed, quickly turning it on and logging in. Once on the net, he immediately tapped on any articles related to England.
The articles didn't please him.
The ones bearing bad news dated back to nearly fifty years ago, even further. Apparently, the British were faring better than ever and were currently getting ready for a royal wedding.
Maybe a country could go blind if a majority of his or her people went blind?
Again, he looked it up, but nothing. England wasn't even on the top 100 countries-with-the-most-blind-people list!
Well, that was annoying. Sighing, he lay back. At least he hadn't gotten his hopes up too much... Still, if he ever met that Arthur Kirkland again...
Well firstly, he swore he'd treat the waiter better (after all, the guy couldn't be so bad; he was American!) and secondly, he wanted to see what the man looked like... After all, he needed to be absolutely sure that the blind man was definitely not England.
But only if he ever saw that waiter again.
And he doubted that.
He wasn't planning on ever returning to the Blind Sense.
Ever.
Arthur sat alone in the living room. He had headphones on and was happily listening to music, while also stitching… something. It wasn't easy to stitch while blind, but damn it all, he was going to give it a bloody good try.
Someone tapped on his shoulder. He took off his headphones.
"Yes?" he asked, placing the unfinished work on the coffee table.
When the response was a triple tap, he sighed.
"What is it Lilli?" he asked.
The girl gently took Arthur's hands and pressed something into it.
"Oh... Oh! I completely forgot about that! Um... I found this phone about a week ago..." Arthur explained, recognising the phone instantly. "I must have forgotten to put it in the lost and found box... Goodness, when did I find this? Oh, I think perhaps a week..."
Lilli patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, as if to say it's OK, then tapped on the phone.
"Yeah, I should put it in the lost-and-found box..." Arthur agreed.
"I found it cleaning up room ten at the restaurant," he then explained, realising Lilli probably thought he'd found it on the street or something. "... It's strange that the owner hasn't been looking for it though..." Arthur added, thoughtfully.
As far as he knew, no one had come to Blind Sense looking for his or her phone…
"Maybe I should call him or her?" he said out loud, though it was clear he'd already made up his mind. He adjusted his sunglasses a bit, something he had a habit of doing when he was uncomfortable or nervous.
Lilli tapped him twice on the shoulder, a "yes".
"Can you check if he or she has their home number on their phone? If they do, could you call them? I mean, obviously give it back to me so I can talk to them, but you know..." Lilli tapped on his shoulder, twice again and took the phone out of his hands. After a short moment, she slid the phone back into his hands.
So I'm calling the owner now...
"Hello?" a man asked. Arthur paled, a frown tugging at his face. Oh goodness, not that git... he thought, recognising the voice near instantly.
"Um... Hi! This is Arthur Kirkland. I found your phone and thought you'd want to know-"
"Wait, seriously? You found my phone? Dude, I've been looking for that thing since forever!" he said, sounding happy. Arthur chuckled nervously.
"Yeah, I was going to leave it in the Lost-and-found box, but I sort of forgot about it... Uh… Sorry about that," Arthur replied. Lilli held his other hand. Partially to help him remain calm, mostly because she was wondering what was going on.
"... Wait... Arthur Kirkland? As in, the waiter?" he asked, as if a terrible truth was dawning on him.
"... Yes... Kirkland as in the waiter. Do you want me to drop your phone off at the restaurant or…?"
"... Uh... Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks."
"OK... I'll drop it off as soon as I can."
"Thanks dude! See you there I guess!" the American then said, hanging up without really saying goodbye. Arthur froze for a moment at how suddenly the other had gone from horrified to happy, but then sighed and hung up too.
"Stupid..." he started, before reminding himself that Lilli was present. He continued muttering curses in his mind. He sat still for a moment, before getting up.
"Lilli, I'm going to go to the Blind Sense to drop this thing off. Do you think you'll be OK until I come back?" Lilli tapped twice on his shoulder. 'Yes'.
"OK, see you later then," he said. He walked out of the living room and started looking for his scarf, which he had (stupidly) left lying on the floor somewhere.
"Oh! Hello Arthur! What are you doing here? I thought you don't have any shifts on Sundays?" the receptionist half-asked, half-greeted when she saw him enter the restaurant, shivering from the cold.
In the corner, the American who'd been waiting for his phone looked up, not looking that impressed.
"It's fine. Came to drop off this," Arthur replied, taking out a phone from his pocket.
"Ah, would that be Mr Jones phone? You know, one of our first reservationists?" the woman asked. Arthur nodded.
"I'll just call him over. Mr Jones? Your phone's here."
Arthur frowned, muttering to himself "I could have gone over myself..."
The American walked up to them and stood next to Arthur. The Brit's mood instantly changed, as he wasn't that fond of Mr Jones.
"Here's your phone," Arthur said, handing it over.
"Thanks dude!" the other responded, taking the phone.
"It's no big deal... Especially since you should have gotten it back earlier…" Arthur muttered, before turning to leave.
"Ah! Going so soon?" the receptionist asked, before he left. Arthur looked over his shoulder (not that he could see anything) and bluntly said "Yes."
"Oh, ah well... Bye Arthur, it was nice seeing you!" the receptionist said happily, disappointed that Arthur was already making his leave.
"Hm? Yeah, bye," the Brit responded, opening the door and exiting.
He heard the door open again shortly after he closed it. Alfred was running after him.
"What?" Arthur asked frustrated, before the American reached his side.
"Could I invite you to a cup of coffee? Just as a way of saying thanks!... And also to kinda make up for treating you so badly the other day… And not leaving you a tip… That was totally unheroic of me! Which is kinda stupid, cause I'm the hero!"
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I'm kind of in a rush. I need to get back home—"
"Just a quick coffee. Honestly! Or I could buy you a cup of tea."
Why was he so eager to drink a coffee with him? Well, since he was so insistent, it wasn't like accepting a coffee was going to kill him. Besides, Maria had told him several times that one should never turn down something that's for free.
Even if the person offering it was a little bit on the weird side…
"... Fine. I could use something to keep me warm..." he said, agreeing.
"Great! Let's go to McDonalds!"
Arthur stopped walking and turned in his vague direction.
"... No. Just no. If I'm drinking a coffee, I want it from a café, not from some health hazarded shop they dare to call a restaurant." Strange. Usually, Arthur didn't really mind McDonalds. Then again, coffee tasted better from an actual café and not from a fast-food restaurant.
Mr Jones was silent for a moment.
"Well, I guess a café's fine too. Oh yeah, I'm Alfred F. Jones by the way!"
"Good for you. If I remember correctly, there should be a café over there. Now hurry up and buy me a coffee."
The two entered the café. It was warm and comfortable. Not many people were about, probably due to it being a very, very cold Sunday. America ordered for them and handed Arthur his coffee.
"Soo..." America started. "Do you wanna drink inside or out?" he asked, praying the Englishman would pick inside.
"Well, since there don't seem to be too many people about..." the Brit said, fiddling with his coffee cup.
"... Inside. It's far too cold to do anything outside anyway."
Yeesss! Please (don't) look like England, please (don't) look like England... America hoped, as he dragged the blind blonde to a free table. Arthur tried to yank himself free, while insisting he could have just as well found his own free table, but thankfully shut up once they reached a table.
"Here we go, a table for two!" America said, beaming. Arthur didn't respond, pretty much slamming his coffee on the table. The Brit probably thought that America had picked a table because he thought that the Englishman was 'handicapped' and therefore unable to pick his own one.
Oh, if Arthur knew that America was always like this...
He took off his coat and hat. America couldn't help but feel himself actually pale when he saw spiky blonde hair appear from underneath it.
He paled further, when Arthur decided it was too hot to wear a scarf and revealed his lower face shape. All that was missing for this to be England were those green eyes and black caterpillars...!
"So... What's it like being blind?" America asked, his mind having short-circuited for a moment. He was completely failing at keeping his hopes down. If the man opposite of him took off his glasses, then he'd know who Arthur Kirkland really was...
Arthur looked up, in Alfred's rough direction, with probably widened eyes of disbelief.
Finally the Englishman recovered from his shock and asked "You went to Blind Sense, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, but you were born blind right? It's gotta be different from being able to see, and then not being able to see!" America continued, with his usual cheery attitude.
"Well... I'm not sure about that... I guess… Well, I wouldn't really know."
"What do you mean?" America asked.
"... Well, if I have been blind since birth, I wouldn't know the difference between what people see and what I can 'see', since I wouldn't have ever had any visual abilities. And if you could see, and then went blind... Not everyone adapts to that, I think..." Arthur explained.
"Dude, you mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Whether or not you were born blind!"
"Well, the doctor's reckon I went blind, although no one can say for sure..."
America curiously leaned forward.
"Doctors?" he asked.
"Ah, that's none of your business anyway!" Arthur quickly waved off, laughing nervously. "I mean come on, we barely know each other!"
America shrugged it off, deciding not to question the Brit's awkwardness. To be fair, they didn't know each other… But Arthur's openness didn't surprise America. After all, local Americans had a habit of being open about everything and anything when talking to their country's personification. Very few ever became aware of it.
Curiously America leaned back, wondering whether he should ask Arthur to take off his sunglasses or just to take them off for him. After all, he didn't want to pester the guy for information if he wasn't certain he was England.
"Hey dude, you should get some new sunglasses! Your are totally dorky!" America said, before laughing. Arthur frowned, unaware that he was turning red. "Maria said they looked fine..." he muttered, touching them gently for reassurance.
"... Dude, you look stupid in them!... I wonder if you look better or stupider without those on..." America wondered out loud.
"H-hey! They're not that bad!" Arthur quickly defended, not really sure on whether or not this was true. He didn't actually know what they looked like after all. "... Wait, did you just call me stupid?"
Without warning, America snatched the glasses off Arthur's face. Sometimes America was glad that he was often considered 'obnoxious and loud'. Because when he was actually deliberately being loud and obnoxious, no one noticed it.
He stared in shock at the now completely revealed face. He only had to see those stupid black caterpillars to know who it was.
"E-England..." America barely whispered.
His pupils were clouded, but it was no mistaking the greenness that surrounded them. Arthur stared blankly in America's direction, as if confused and likewise shocked.
He then quickly stood up, suddenly enough for the chair behind him to fall over and held out a hand.
"Give. Them. Back. Now." Arthur demanded.
Chapter 2 - Edited. :)