I'm so sorry guys! This should have been updated two weeks ago! I have no excuses to give, just that I'm an ass. *Hands readers scones* You can all scone me now. *Ducks for cover*

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The next morning, one of the nurses arrived in the hospital room, bringing water for the two mens' baths. Gingerly, she crept past Arthur, whom was still asleep, to Alfred's side of the room. Usually he was awake by now.

Just before opening the curtain, she called out to the American. "Mr. Jones?" she whispered.

No answer.

"Sir?"

Still no response.

Carefully, the nurse parted the curtain, large hazel eyes casting downward in dismay.

Placing down the bucket of water, she tiptoed closer, grabbing Alfred's hand in her own. Stone cold. Putting her head upon his chest, she listened for a heart beat. Nothing.

Bringing her eyes up to meet the man's face, she smiled sadly.

There, upon Alfred's face, was a smile of his own.

"He was always smiling, wasn't he?" she thought, turning to grab the phone on the wall. Carefully dialing the number, she called for the hospital attendants to take the body away.

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Arthur awoke to a loud shuffling in the room. Opening his eyes, still bleary with sleep, he let out a slight sigh. Usually he wasn't woken up this early.

Shifting his head slightly, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Two men, dressed in all white (ironically. God, he hated that color), were lifting up a black body bag.

"No. Please don't let that be what I think it is," he begged silently.

Without a word said, the two began to walk out of the room.

"Wait a bloody moment!" the englishman cried out, catching the other two mens' attention. Quietly, the older looking of the two turned, his brow was raised, but otherwise, his face expressionless.

"Something wrong, sir?" he questioned, his voice a monotone.

"Sure as hell something is wrong! What do you think you're doing here? And where is that git, Alfred?" Arthur practically seethed, his eyes flaring angrily, for the first time in weeks. Why was he so goddamn angry? There was no reason, right? Alfred was totally fine.

Right?

This time, the younger of the two men turned to the brit. Grabbing his white baseball cap, he pulled it off of his head in a respectful gesture. A moment later, he put back upon his head, covering up the curly brown hair he had just revealed. "I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Jones has passed away," he answered, pale blue eyes shinning in remorse.

Almost immediately, the anger drained from Arthur's face.

Alfred...was dead?

It couldn't have been true! It just couldn't!

Though denial coursed through his veins, a part of him knew. Alfred F. Jones was dead.

His best friend was dead.

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Weeks flew by as Arthur laid in his bed, unresponsive. Those green eyes, which were always so emotional, seemed glazed over and dead.

No longer was there any color in the world. No longer was there...anything.

Arthur sighed slowly, the only real gesture that showed he still had emotion anymore.

Alfred was gone.

Gone.

Slowly, Arthur closed his emerald green eyes. He hadn't cried when he came to terms that he lost Alfred. He hadn't felt anything. But maybe he was wrong. It was like his heart died with Alfred. Like every feeling he once felt joined the loud git in the afterlife.

He just couldn't tell anymore.

In these weeks, he had grown unresponsive, showing no emotion to others. The staff tried to speak with the sandy blonde, but they never got a reply. Hell, even the irate Englishman yelling at them was better than nothing.

But that's what they got.

Nothing.

Opening those forest green eyes once again, Arthur clenched his fists.

"What can you see now, Alfred? Is your suffering done? Or have you found a good place to rest, with many people to talk to, instead of this resentful man here? Are you happier now that you left me?" he question up at the ceiling, though he knew no response would come.

He was still expecting it to be a joke. He'd been waiting for the tall idiot to march into the room, a toothy grin upon his face, and declare it was all just a prank. That he was really alive.

And then he would yell at the American, tell him how much of a bloody idiot he was. But then everything would be ok, and Alfred would show him the world once again.

That moment, though, never came. No matter how long he waited, Alfred never showed.

A bitter smile overtook Arthur's face. It was just like the git to keep him waiting.

"Arthur." A small whisper snapped the man out of his thoughts. His eyes darted around the room. He knew that voice. He could tell who it belonged to immediately.

"Alfred," Arthur breathed, his voice coming out to low for anyone but him to hear. A soft breeze blew through the walls, parting and ruffling his hair gently. With it, wafted a sweet smell, one he hadn't experienced for years.

It was like melted snow, and wet, earthy soil. Like grass covered in dew, while the sun just begun to rise. Like fog just lifting from the night before, while buds struggled to break through the surface of the dark bed they had laid in for the winter.

"It's spring," smiled a voice at the other end of the room.

Arthur jumped. When had someone walked by him?

The owner of the voice turned on her heal, and walked over to Arthur, a look of longing upon her face.

"Don't you think it's nice? The breeze is just breaking through the chilly winter air. And in not too long, the birds will start singing again. It's just lovely," the nurse sighed happily, as she gazed at Arthur's heart monitor for any problems.

The unresponsive man before her, smiled, despite himself. Something he hadn't done in weeks.

"Yes, it's quite lovely," he replied, his tone light, as his voice sounded in the room for the first time in a while.

Arthur Kirkland was back, like the flowers that returned with the spring.

And Alfred was too. He was like the wind. He wasn't seen, and he wasn't always felt, but he was there, and no matter what, he always will be.

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As soon as Arthur thought it was appropriate, he asked the nurse if he could be moved.

"Miss?"

The nurse turned to the Englishman, a bright smile upon her face. "How can I help you Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur smiled, and turned his head to the left side of the room.

"Could you move me where Alfred sat? Next to the window?" he questioned hopefully.

The nurse opened her hazel eyes slightly in surprised, but her smile grew into a large grin. "Of course! That'll be no problem at all!"

Within an hour, the nurse called in a few other staff members for backup, and helped Arthur move to the opposite side of the room.

"Is there anythin' else ya need?" asked another nurse, her coppery hair pulled back into a neat bun. Gently, she hooked up Arthur's heart monitor again, steady beeps now filling the quiet room.

"No, this is quite fine," Arthur smiled, feeling the breeze from the open window hit the side of his face.

"Alrighty then. Jus' call if ya need somethin'," she replied with a polite smile, and then left the room.

Arthur's smile grew a little wider, and his fuzzy brows became less furrowed. He was finally alone.

The Englishman took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbows. Pain shot along his spine, causing him to gasp. Gritting his teeth, he continued to bring himself into a sitting position. He wasn't going to give up. Not when the window's view was just within his reach. Finally, he'd be able to really see the lake, the children, the flowers, everything.

Now upward, Arthur turned his head slowly, his bones creaking from all the movement.

It was then, when those jubilant, impatient green eyes widened.

There, beyond the glass, through the window, was a blank wall.

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Arthur fell backwards, his body hitting the bed with a thump. "Ack!" he cried out, half in pain, and half out of anger. His hands grasped the white sheets in an ironclad grip.

A blank wall. A fucking blank wall.

That was it.

All those descriptions, all those details.

They were lies. All lies.

Tears sprouted unforgivingly from his eyes. That beautiful, colorful world that was waiting for him, calling out to him. It wasn't there. It was never there.

Desperately, he tried to wipe away the waterfall of tears, but his efforts were all in vain. Dropping his arms onto the bed, Arthur growled in frustration. All this time, there was nothing out there. Alfred had made it up.

"Why did you do that, you arsehole! Why did you make me believe there was something out there for me!" he cried at the ceiling, his vision becoming blurry from the tears.

"Why would you do such a thing?" His final cry was cut out by the quick, booming beats of the heart monitor. The last thing he saw was the blurry figures of the staff, before everything went black.

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When Arthur awoke, he saw a familiar face gazing down at him. Blue eyes shone like sapphires, so bright, and full of life, yet like always, so contradictory and devoid of it.

"Alfred," croaked Arthur, realizing his throat was hoarse.

"The one and only," the American laughed back.

"You," Arthur whispered, reaching upward, and grabbing Alfred's shirt forcefully.

"You lied to me."

The other man looked down at him. "Did I really lie?"

"There was nothing but a blank wall! Everything you described was a lie, nothing more. Why did you make me believe?" He cried out desperately, tears pouring from his eyes once again.

Alfred's smile never faltered though, his eyes still remaining so kind. "It was the world I saw."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, when everything seemed to dim. It was as if something was sucking him in, everything growing dark. He gasped as Alfred disappeared, now replaced by nothingness.

"No! Alfred! What do you mean by that!" Arthur yelled out, his voice almost failing him.

Suddenly a light appeared somewhere far-off in the darkness.

"Alfred!" Arthur gasped, reaching towards the white opening.

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"Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur awoke with a start, now face to face with the nurse from before. Her large hazel eyes looked at him worriedly.

Arthur gazed at the woman, too shocked to say anything at first. He was reaching towards the light when it sucked him in, and now he was lying in the hospital bed once again.

"What happened?" he finally chocked out, realizing his voice was just as hoarse as in his dream.

"I'm not sure what caused you to, but something made you to have a panic attack. Your heart rate went off the scales. Dr. Braginski was able to calm you back down again, so everything will be ok," she explained, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Arthur didn't reply right away, turning his head towards the window instead.

"The window. Alfred would sit here and tell me everything he saw outside. He spoke of all these wonderful images and scenes, and in my mind, I saw it all. Today I looked out it, however, and all there was was a blank wall. Nothing more. Why would he lie to me?" whispered Arthur, finally breaking the silence after a few moments.

The nurse turned her hazel gaze towards the window, a far-off look in her eyes once more. Her small smile transformed into a sad one.

"Maybe he just wanted to encourage you," she replied, voice soft.

"But wh-"

"Didn't you know? Alfred was blind. He couldn't even see the wall beyond the window."

Arthur blinked, digesting what he had just learned. Those eyes. Those gorgeous, yet repulsive eyes. Those eyes that saw through one's soul, yet couldn't see anything at all. Those eyes that were so lively, yet so dead. The eyes that one got caught and trapped in. Those confusing, contradictory eyes.

And now he knew why.

Those eyes, were sightless.

And there Arthur was, always complaining about the white hospital room that was so devoid of color. Or that darkness behind his eyelids that taunted him day and night. He was always so envious of Alfred, so envious of him being able to see the world.

But Alfred had saw nothing. The darkness Arthur feared so greatly, Alfred had been living in it this whole time.

That was when Arthur truly opened his eyes for the first time.

No longer was everything black or white, dull or dead. No. Everything was colorful, and bright.

Some would say Arthur had gone mad behind those white, hospital walls, be they couldn't have been more wrong. He no longer saw the white walls, but beyond them.

To the lake with ducks, where the laughter of children rang out, covering every sound. Where flowers of every hue sprouted, as lovers walked by arm in arm. Where the skyline of the city could just be seen through the baby blue of the sky.

But his visions didn't stop there. No, that was just the beginning. Beyond this peaceful scenery, was the world. The sun setting and rising, as people went about their day. The Earth never ceasing to turn.

A smile crossed Arthur's face. It had taken a blind, kind, funny, caring idiot to get him too see.

And now Arthur saw hope.

Hope that maybe he could be cured.

Hope that he could live to grow old.

Hope that his family would remember him.

Hope that he could someday see Alfred again.

Hope that spawned more hope, creating an endless chain.

And maybe, with that hope, Arthur could walk beyond those hospital doors one day, and see the true world for himself.

Past the hospital walls, and through the window.

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I want to thank you all for following me through my first fanfiction. You all have given me great impetus to keep writing these, and create future stories. I don't have inspiration often, but this definitely won't be the last you see of me, definitely. :)

I know I didn't reply to all of your review's for last chapter, but I did read them all. Thank you all soooo much! It really does mean a lot! 3

*Huggles readers*

Also, as I promised in the first chapter, I shall post the short story this is based on. I, in no way, own this story, or Hetalia. No copyright infringement intended. :)

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room's only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation...

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.

Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band- he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks, and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside the window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

Take the meaning of this story anyway you like, ;)