Summary: Because of an accident, Pick turns blind. However one whish changes everything. Mark takes it like a champion.

Warning: Sad ending

It was a Friday that derailed everything in Mark's life. Everything went wrong from there on. He and his boyfriend Pick, who had been a couple for three years, were driving home from the recording studio. It was raining heavily, as it usually did in England. Mark was sitting in the passenger seat and was complaining about the recording studio manager. He and Mark didn't like each other very much and had argued before they left. Pick, the drummer, was driving the car and was barely listening to him. He couldn't stand how much the manager and Mark hated each other anymore. They would either have to find a new recording studio or stop recording. But since Pick knew that Mark was angry anyway, he didn't bring up the topic. As already mentioned, it was pouring rain, on top of that it was cold and Pick finally wanted to get back to the apartment that Mark, Pick, John and David shared. The other two band members were at home. As Pick drove faster, the inevitable happened: aquaplaning. The car lost its grip on the ground and began to spin until it rolled over and came to a stop in the ditch. Pick knew the car's windshield had shattered because he could feel splinters all over his body, but that was the last thing he felt.

*

Mark had come out of the accident relatively unscathed. His leg was broken and his arm had to be put in a splint, but both were repairable injuries. Pick, on the other hand, had been less fortunate. The splinters from the windshield had gotten into his eyes and blinded him. Permanently. The following weeks had been hell for Pick. He couldn't accept that he would be blind for the rest of his life. Mark looked after him and was present at every doctor's appointment. He assured him that he would always look after him, but nonetheless, Pick was constantly angry. He was angry at himself, at others, at literally everything. And so the situation came, that happened a few months after the accident in the band's apartment:

It was autumn, November to be precise. The friends were sitting on the sofa watching TV while Mark was cooking in the kitchen. The guitarist was not a gifted cook. Cooking used to be Pick's job. But since he was no longer really able to do it, he sat between David and John on the sofa and listened to the film. He couldn't see it. Mark had somehow managed to cook spaghetti. He was quite proud of himself when he filled four plates with pasta and sauce and then brought them into the living room. John and David took the plates from him and immediately started eating. They were extremely hungry. Mark sat down next to Pick, smiling, and put the plate on his lap before putting a fork in his hand.

"I made you something to eat, honey." Mark said, kissing Pick's cheek.

"What is it?" Asked the drummer, starting to poke at the pasta. Mark looked at him worriedly.

"Spaghetti. Just the way you like it. Don't you want to try it?" Pick grimaced. Mark sighed, picked up his own plate and started eating. While Mark and John were talking, the drummer forced himself to try some of the pasta and damn it! Pick spat the pasta on the living room table. Mark, David and John turned around in shock and stared at him. The blind drummer stared into the room with his pale eyes, not knowing that his eyes were on the potted plant. "Did you get burned?" Mark asked worriedly after putting his plate aside and rushing to Pick's side. "I should've told you the food was still hot. I'm sorry, I..."

"This is fucking disgusting!" Pick exclaimed. The room went quiet again. "Damn, this is the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten in my life!" Mark's eyes widened and he bit his lower lip. "What are you thinking, Mark!? Do you think you can fool me just because I'm blind!? Do you think you can feed me some garbage!?"

"Pick, what are you talking about?" David asked, confused.

"This is inedible!" Pick exclaimed angrily. Mark bit his lower lip in concern. He knew what was coming next. Pick was angry and he was just at the beginning of his tantrum.

"Calm down." Mark said gently, rubbing Pick's thigh. "I gave you the same food that I, David and John eat. Don't you like it? Is it too spicy? What's the problem?"

"The problem?" Pick exclaimed angrily. "The problem!? The problem is that you, Mark Freuder Knopfler, can't cook at all!" It became quiet again in the living room. "And I'm getting fed up with you making a fool of me! We all know that you give me the food that you don't want to throw it in the trash!"

"What on earth are you talking about, love?" Mark asked worriedly. "I know I'm not a perfect cook, but it doesn't taste that bad and..."

"You're just so damn useless, Mark!" Pick exclaimed angrily, standing up after shoving the plate onto Mark's lap. Pasta and sauce were spread all over Mark's white jeans. The guitarist stared down at his ruined favourite jeans with wide eyes. "You can't cook! You can't take care of me! You're ignoring me! You're probably fucking someone else and shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that I can't see it! I'm sick of it, Mark! You're the most useless creature I've ever met in my life!" Mark stood up with wide eyes. The pasta from his lap fell to the floor.

"Pick, stop." John said. His voice was strained. Pick had insulted Mark several times in the last few days and weeks, but it had never been this bad.

"No, I'm not stopping! Because I've had enough! You're incompetent and absolutely useless, Mark! There's nothing you can do except play the guitar! I was so good at cooking, playing the drums, driving cars and I can't do any of that anymore!"

"You were so good at driving that you had an accident the last time you got behind the wheel!" David mocked.

"Shut up!" Pick shouted angrily. "It was Mark's fault! He spent the whole drive home complaining about the shitty recording studio manager! He distracted me the whole time!" Mark stood silently in the room. Tears gathered in his eyes. "I'm blind because of you, Mark! My life is over because of you and you haven't even apologized for it! Aren't you the least bit ashamed!? You lie to me all the time and say you love me!"

"Pick, that's enough!" John shouted when he saw Mark shaking. The guitarist was close to tears.

"No! He should know! I'm blind because of you, Mark! And now we'll see how you deal with it! This is all your fault! You're useless and worthless! You can't even cook!" Mark bit his trembling lower lip.

"I know." He whimpered weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pick. You didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry. I didn't want this to happen and..."

"If you were sorry, you would've protected me!" Pick shouted angrily. "You would've protected me from the broken glass!"

"Pick!" David shouted angrily. "How on earth should Mark have done that!? Stop making him feel guilty!"

"Guilty!? Damn, I wish you were blind, Mark!" The room went dead silent. "I wish you were blind instead of me! You deserve it! With all the shit you've done to other people, you deserve it!" Mark let out a broken sob before storming out of the living room and locking his bedroom door behind him.

"What on earth has gotten into you, you fucking asshole!?" David screamed in horror. "How can you say something like that to him after he's taken care of you for months!?"

"I wish he was blind." Pick whispered.

*

When Pick woke up the next morning, he wasn't in his bedroom because Mark had locked the door. Pick had been sleeping on the sofa in the living room. He yawned loudly and stretched. He could already smell eggs and bacon from the kitchen. He assumed that John was the cook, since the bassist usually took care of breakfast. Damn, that smelled good. Pick could also hear David's voice. The drummer sat up, stretched and rubbed his eyes, suddenly shocked to find that he could see the living room table. His heart skipped a beat. The drummer rubbed his eyes again. He waved his hands in front of his face, turned his head from side to side, but he could see everything. Was this a dream? He started screaming and stormed into the kitchen. David was sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea while John was at the stove.

"Guys! Guys!" Pick screamed excitedly. "Pinch me! I can see!" The other two men looked at him in shock, as if he had gone completely mad. "I can see again! Guys! I can see you! I can see everything!" After David and John had done a few tests on him, they all hugged each other, laughing and rejoicing over this miracle, even though they had absolutely no idea how it had happened. They decided to go to the doctor later.

"That's incredible!" David shouted, laughing and patted Pick on the shoulder. "Your eyes are shining just like they used to! When you were blind, there was some kind of veil over them. Man, that was scary. Buddy, I'm so glad you're feeling better now." Pick smiled excitedly and happily ate his breakfast when they suddenly heard a loud crash from one of the bedrooms and turned their heads in surprise. The key in the door to Pick and Mark's bedroom rustled before the door opened.

"Mark! Honey! I can see again!" Pick exclaimed excitedly. "Everything's fine again! Everything's back to normal! God, I'm so happy! Come here and look at my eyes!" Mark stumbled out of the bedroom. His hair was disheveled, showing that he had only woken up a few minutes ago. He was breathing fast and loudly, as if he was hyperventilating. He was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts. Pick noticed with sad eyes that Mark had lost a lot of weight since he had last really seen him.

"Pick?" Mark asked anxiously, clinging to the door frame. David, Pick and John looked at each other in confusion. They had never seen Mark like this before. "Pick? John? David?" Mark whimpered weakly. "Are you there?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Pick exclaimed. "Stop imitating me! This isn't funny! Besides, I can see again now!" Mark collapsed in the middle of the hallway. The friends immediately jumped up from their chairs and rushed towards him. John supported him into an upright position while Pick looked at him worriedly. Mark reached out his shaking hand in front of him and brushed Pick's shoulder.

"Pick?" He whimpered brokenly as tears rolled from his eyes.

"Yes. It's me. I can see you again. Everything's fine. Calm down." Said the drummer and took Mark's hand.

"Mark?" David asked suddenly anxiously. "Look at me." The older Knopfler moved his head in Pick's direction in confusion, but looked past him. "Mark, look at me." David said seriously. "How many fingers am I holding up?" David showed him three fingers.

"I don't know." Mark squeaked anxiously. His heart was beating very fast and he could hardly breathe.

"Hey. Calm down." John hummed, still holding him by the shoulders. "Calm down. It's all right."

"I can't see anything." Mark whimpered and stretched out his other hand in front of his face. Pick's heart stopped and he stared at Mark with wide eyes.

"What do you mean? Stop messing with us, Mark!" He cried out anxiously. Mark sobbed brokenly.

"I can't see anything." He whimpered. "I can't see anything. Not even silhouettes. It's dark. Everything's black. Help me." David and John looked at each other in horror.

"Shit." They gasped in unison.

*

The friends immediately went to a doctor and had Mark and Pick examined. The doctor couldn't explain what exactly had happened. Pick's eyes had healed as if by a miracle. All the scars and damage to his retina had disappeared and his vision was fully restored. Mark's eyes, on the other hand, were badly damaged. His retina was scratched and looked just as broken as Pick's had once been. Mark was declared blind that day.

*

While Pick had been constantly angry when he was blind, Mark showed the exact opposite behaviour. He was depressed. He often sat alone in his room, crying and sobbing. He wouldn't let anyone touch him and apologized all the time. Pick didn't know what to do anymore. Mark shut everyone out of his life. He hardly ate anymore and lost more and more weight. His nails began to break, his hair fell out because his body was lacking vitamins and nutrients.

"I'm sorry." Pick sobbed brokenly. He sat on the sofa, Mark next to him. The singer stared in an unknown direction with his pale, blue eyes. Pick hugged him, sobbing. "It's all my fault. The night I yelled at you, I said I wished you were blind. And suddenly you were. But I could see again. It's all my fault." Mark weakly turned his head to look in Pick's direction, even though he couldn't.

"Don't worry." He said, his voice breaking. He barely spoke anymore, which made his voice rough. "I love you." Mark whispered. "I want you to be happy." Mark swallowed hard and blinked dazedly. "You can be happy now." Pick stared at him with wide eyes.

"Mark." He whispered.

"You can be happy now." Mark carefully placed his hand on Pick's knee and rubbed it gently before smiling weakly. "I'm not important, you know? I'm useless anyway." Pick's heart clenched at those words. "I just want you to be okay. And if you feel better again and can live your life the way you want, then that's all that matters to me." Pick began to sob brokenly and clung to Mark.

"I love you too. Please don't ever say something like that again. You are not useless. I was so angry back then when I said that. And I was absolutely wrong. I'm so sorry. I'll never be able to forgive myself." Mark carefully stretched out his arms. Pick hugged him tightly and cried into his neck.

"Sh." Mark hummed softly and rubbed Pick's back.

"I love you." Pick sobbed brokenly. And kissed Mark's lips. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I was such an asshole."

"Sh." Mark whispered and rocked Pick gently in his arms. "Calm down. It's all good."

"Nothing's good!" Pick shouted angrily. "You're blind! Because of me!"

"I can only play the guitar anyway." Mark whispered. Pick sobbed brokenly. "I can do that even when I'm blind."

"I'm sorry, honey." John sobbed. "I would do anything to make you the old again. Damn, I'd go blind again if..."

"Sh." Mark whispered sadly, rubbing Pick's back. "Don't say that, we both know it's not true." Pick's heart broke for Mark. "I love you. Nothing else is important. Everyone has one wish, you know? And I wish you to be happy."

"I love you, damn it." Pick sobbed. "You're too good for an idiot like me." Mark smiled sadly as he snuggled closer to Pick's body and closed his teary, blind eyes.

THE END