Okay, so this is the next chapter of this. I'm glad that this got positive reviews. I was sorta afriad that no one would see this. But well, that just probably me being paraniod.
Any who, I no own.
"Wait," America said, looking confused, "My Texas was right next to you. Why didn't you pick it up for me?"
He couldn't see his eyes; England looked down. "Y-y-yes? Is that so?"
That feeling, that feeling of despair was crawling into his heart. "England," his voice was on edge, "D-don't tell me your-"
"W-what," England's voice was desprate, as he was looking for a distraction, "We have to go after Italy first!"
"England," He yelled as he walked closer to the man. "W-what," England looked as though he was trying to hid his face, his eyes.
"I remember, that a long time ago," he didn't want to remember, no, he desprately wanted to forget what he had scene when he broke that clock, "Many, many loops ago, I asked you the following question. He stepped closer to England, so close that he could kiss him, if he really wanted to. Still, he could not see his eyes, England's head was too low, he himself was too tall, and the lighting was so bad. He braced himself as he before he spoke. "How many fingers," his voice trembled, "Am I holding up?"
England gasped and America feared the worse. "You can answer," it was almost as if he was talking to himself, "If you can see." He felt as thought tears would fall from his eyes any second. "Please, please don't say your sorry," he whispered feeling the despair reach his heart and giving it a good squeaze, "I don't want to go through that again!"
"W-well," England started after a moment. America felt a tear fall from his eye. "I-it can't be!"
"I-I'm sorry America," England said as his head slowly moved up, "I can... no longer see." Those dull green eyes held no emotion as tears started to drip from them.
America awoke with a gasp; it had just been a dream! He panted heavily as he wiped his eyes. He looked at the clock as he put his Texas on; it was only 1:03. He sighed as he removed his Texas and layed back onto his bed.
'It was just a dream,' he told himself, unfortunately, a small part of his brain laughed at that.
'Just a dream,' it said as it snicked, 'That dream is a reality! How dare you even try to look for this type of comfort! Do you forget whose house you're currently in? Do you forget who your're supposed to care for for the rest of your life because of the mistake you made!'
He burried his head into his pillow as he gave out a groan of irration and guilt. It wasn't that he forgot, no, it was quite the opposite of that. The fact of it all was that it was his fault that all of this had happened. Maybe if he had talked to England, maybe if he had actually warned him, then all of this wouldn't have happened and he would have this guilt to burden him every time he saw him. He got out of be, it didn't look like he was going to be going to sleep anytime soon.
He walked downstairs as he went through everything in his mind. It had been three years since he permantely moved out of his old home in Washington D.C. but it still felt awkward being in this house. Even as a child, he hadn't even visited England's home.
You see, America had moved into England's home to take care of said country. He did almost everything for him. Not that he hated it, in fact, he quite like it. It gave him a feeling of dominance. He had once vaguely wondered if that was the feeling England had once got when America was under his care during that Colonial Times. The thing that really bothered him about this whole arrangement was England's condition. He would never find pleasure, he would never finge any satisfaction about this if only because of England.
"AMERICA! AMERICA WHERE ARE YOU!" America's eyes widened and he sprinted to England's room. He burst through the door and found England wide-eyed and holding himself for comfort.
"I- Please, please," England said, his bawling making it hard to understand him, "I'm home, somewhere nice, please, AMERICA AMER-"
"England," he yelled as he ran to him and held him tightly, "It's okay! Shhh, shhh. I'm here for you!"
"I heard footsteps in the house," England said as he buried his head into America's chest," And, and I thought that He was here and and-"
"Don't worry," America's voice was soft and he kissed the other man's fore head, "We're home, He's gone. We're safe, and I'm not going to let you get hurt. I'm the hero, remember?"
With the words of comfort, England started to calm down. One of his hands went up to feel America's face, to see were he was. That hand brought America's face down and England moved his face upwards. It hurt America to see him like that, cheeks wet and eyes blank.
America moved his lips towards England's and lightly brushed along them. England, with a scowl, moved his lips up, kissing America fully. The kiss itself only lasted for a bit, then America gently pushed him down onto the bed. As he looked at the man, all his guilt suddenly hit him. He was the reason why England was like this. England could no longer see because of him. England was blind because of his Hero Complex, because he never took the time to warn him about over-using his magic.
He tried to avoid the gaze of those eyes, those terribly dull eyes. He closed his eyes as he removed his shirt and leaned in to kiss England. As their kiss intensified, America wondered when he became so guilt ridden that he could no longer bear to look into those once emerald eyes that captivated him so. No, he wondered when he could no longer look at the man that he loves with all his heart that it made it ache.
'Member peeps, no reviews and y'all won't get jack SHIT from me! Thanks ;D
