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when everything is lonely i can be my own best friend
Their road trip across America could only last so long before Wilson’s health severely deteriorated. The fantasy came to a stop four months in, as the cancer metastasised to the lungs, and House knew as well as Wilson that his death would end in gasps for breath. They confined themselves to a hotel in New Orleans.
“Poetic, huh?” Wilson said as he set his bags down, already short of breath from the small trek to their room.
“Did you plan this? Because it’s something only someone as sappy as you would do.”
“Yes, I totally knew the way it would progress, completely knowing that we would end up here even though I still have plenty of destinations I wanted to go to before-” Wilson stuttered a little bit. “Before the cancer got this bad.”
Silence.
“Well, you are an oncologist.”
“And maybe this is just fate.”
grab a coffee and the paper, have my own conversations
House used to think about what happens after Wilson leaves, but he can’t bring himself to do that anymore. More so, he couldn’t imagine a life without his best friend. He tried to remember the time BW – Before Wilson, that is – but it was so long ago that it seemed like his imagination.
No more lunches and stealing his food at the hospital cafeteria, hell, he threw that away when he faked his death. Another thing he didn’t like to think about; home. But even then, a few months ago, he had hope. But after, after all this, there would be nothing left, and he knew it. He knew the rest of his life would be filled with shitty diner meals and being just that much more alone and miserable.
with the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection
He once thought he could get high, on Vicodin, cocaine, anything, just to stimulate a hallucination. But out of everyone, he knew best that it wasn’t worth it. A temporary moment of ignorance just to forget everything wasn’t worth coming down from the high and having to face reality.
the mask i polish in the evening by the morning looks like shit
Talks about feelings always happened at night, and they always pretended it never happened when they woke up. House didn’t ever want to talk about it again, and Wilson certainly had no need to bring it up.
“Do you love me?” Wilson sounded like he had been crying. There was no need to hide anything anymore.
“Everyone you meet loves you.”
“Yeah, they care so much, that’s why they never called me and ask how I have been.” Wilson huffed. He could feel more tears coming.
“You know they don’t matter.”
“That’s why I’m asking you. Do you love me?” Wilson’s words came out harsher than intended.
“I think you already know the answer.” House replied as he leaned in so close that he could smell the salt on Wilson’s cheeks.
and i know you have a heavy heart, i can feel it when we kiss
They had nothing to lose as their lips brushed together for the first time, soft and tender. There was nothing sexual about it, no tongue and no indication it would go anywhere further, but that was fine. They could feel each other’s burden, each other’s suffering and torment, struggling against their own current.
so many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
There was no need to cuddle or hold each other, that’s not the way they did things, nor the way they needed to do things. Yet there was no need for walls to stay up, and they both let their guard down, laying out their hearts, front and bare. Just each other was comforting and good enough.
but me, i’m not a gamble, you can count on me to split
“Wish I had done that before all of this.” Wilson purposely avoided saying cancer.
“You never said anything.”
“Neither did you. And plus, I could never leave you. After all the things you did to me, you’d always be forgiven. I thought that was already saying enough.”
“And I never left you either.” House smiled, a genuine one, for the first time in weeks.
the love i sell you in the evening by the morning won’t exist
This wasn’t something you could pretend never happened. They never talked about it when they woke up, but the kiss lingered on their lips, thoughts always crossing their minds, and the words remaining unspoken from their mouths.
i’ve got a flask inside my pocket; we can share it on the train
Not all stories had fairy tale endings, and they both knew theirs had to end somewhere.
The last week brought nothing but pain. Wilson thought it was a pathetic way to die: lying on a hotel room bed that had dirty sheets without the energy to even say goodbye. It felt like suffocating and drowning, fear and horror rolling over him in waves, shaking with the need for more oxygen. House saved the Vicodin for Wilson; he needed it more. He needed it to stay alive, and House needed him to stay alive.
if you promise to stay conscious i will try and do the same
House could not take his eyes off Wilson’s trembling form and brushed lightly at the hairs covering his friend’s eyes. The doctor in the back of his mind subconsciously took his pulse, reminding him that it was weaker every time, and the gentle beating in his wrist may cease at any moment. House begged the universe to allow him to hold on a little longer, all the while knowing that it was futile.
“What are you going to do after?”
House drew a bitter laugh. “Your horniness to care certainly accompanied you even to death’s door.” When he got no response, he said instead: “After what?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean. After all this.”
“After you die.” House supplied. “I don’t know.”
“Promise me you’ll hold on.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
Wilson did know, but it was worth a try. But he didn’t push it, because if the roles were reversed, they both knew he would do the exact same thing.
Because Wilson may be House’s only friend, but House was Wilson’s only true friend too.
we might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain
Vicodin didn’t take away the pain anymore. Not the pain in Wilson’s lungs, and certainly not the pain in House’s heart. A shot of morphine flowed through Wilson’s veins.
“House?”
“Yeah. I’m right here.” House smiled weakly in an attempt at reassurance.
“I think it’s time. For me to go.” Wilson could hear his voice crack, a trait House once would’ve mocked him for. But not today. Not ever again.
“Just a little longer.”
“We’re always going to want more time.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Wilson smiled, all bittersweet and never quite reaching his eyes. “A little late for that, don’t you think? Please, just do it.”
Another shot of morphine, only this time it was lethal.
Even in the end, Wilson didn’t cry. He didn’t want House remembering this as his legacy. “I- I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And they left it at that as Wilson drew his last breath.
what was normal in the evening by the morning seems insane
House didn’t know what came next. He didn’t know what came after death, and in all honesty, he was scared. Never in his life would he admit it, but as the bottle of Vicodin mixed with the last taste of beer began to take effect, he willed himself to believe in an afterlife. A place where there was no pain, a place where he could see Wilson again.
Hours later, the early morning sun shone through the curtains and House had his arms wrapped tightly around Wilson.
But nobody stirred.
And then there was nothing.