Work Text:
When Wilson tells House about the cancer, House doesn't know what to think.
When Wilson tells House about the cancer, Wilson doesn't know what to feel.
/
When Wilson still comes to work the next day, House concludes once more that his friend is an idiot.
When Wilson still comes to work the next day, he doesn't know why.
/
When House finds out about Wilson's plans to potentially kill himself with an overdose of cytostatics, he doesn't know what to feel.
When Wilson decides to potentially kill himself with an overdose of cytostatics, he still has hope.
/
When Wilson is lying on House's couch, numbed by pain and painkillers, House thinks that maybe he understands now why Wilson cares.
Why do you care? Specifically. Although I'm curious about a general answer too.
When Wilson is lying on House's couch, numbed by pain and painkillers, Wilson knows that House cares.
/
Yeah. He cares about me.
/
When Wilson thinks that he can't go on, he feels a touch and knows that House is there.
/
Wilson is scared of needing. He'd rather give than take.
Wilson needs House, and he is scared. House tries to give, but he wants to take.
/
House wants to take, because he is scared of losing. He lost everyone. He lost Kutner and Amber and Hanna and Lydia and Cuddy and Thirteen and Dominika. And now he is losing Wilson.
/
If you die, I'm alone.
/
Stupid Hanna. Why is he thinking of her?
/
Sometimes, there is nothing anyone can do.
/
House doesn't want to be alone.
Wilson doesn't want to be alone. Wilson doesn't want to die.
/
You can't win this.
/
Wilson knows it's stupid, the car and the steak and the old lady.
House knows it's stupid, the car and the steak, especially. They're superficial and meaningless. Everything is meaningless.
Why can't Wilson just live.
/
During the first month, House looks at the sky and Wilson breathes. Wilson looks at House, House smiles.
During the second month, Wilson looks at the sky and House breathes. House looks at Wilson, Wilson smiles.
/
Wilson dreams of opossums and chickens and e-guitars and stolen fries and macadamia nut pancakes.
House dreams of nothingness, of a terrifying cold eternity. He wakes up and he can't breathe. Then he doesn't want to. Dying now would make everything easier.
/
Enduring pain to do some good for someone you care about. Isn't that what life is?
/
When House thinks that he can't go on, he feels a touch and knows that Wilson is there.
They go back to sleep, and House can see Wilson's outline trembling.
/
Wilson is cold all the time now. He doesn't roll up his sleeves anymore.
House notices, but he doesn't say anything. House is afraid of change.
/
Life is pain.
/
During the third month, House gets angry at Wilson because he isn't fighting. House is used to working with all kinds of morons, but at least they had the common denominator of wanting to live.
During the third month, Wilson becomes quieter. Sometimes he places a hand on his chest, thinking of this imperfection, this mistake inside him. He imagines the bloated, irregular nuclei and remembers that he never said goodbye to Danny.
/
Stay alive.
/
During the fourth month, they reach the Pacific. Wilson likes the view.
During the fourth month, House tries to imagine what it must be like underneath all the water.
/
They find a small house on the shore. Wilson worries what House will do without him.
House wonders what he will do without Wilson.
/
Sometimes, House wants to scream and never stop, even though life has been unfair before.
Sometimes, Wilson wants to die, just so it's over.
/
House thinks Wilson is an idiot. House wishes he could care as much as Wilson does. House wants Wilson to be angry. House needs Wilson to live.
Sometimes, House wants to die, just so it's over.
/
They are both happy. When either of them thinks they can't go on, they feel a touch and know that the other is there.
They have fun, but it's a different kind of fun. It's fun without opossums and chickens and e-guitars. It's fun that always has the ocean and the stars at the back of its mind, a fun that's never quite free of the prospect of nothing.
/
House organised enough pain meds, this time he isn't lying.
/
I don't wanna think about anything.
/
House desperately wants to take them. He wants to kill all his poisonous thoughts and drown in oblivion. Thoughts like how this is Wilson's fault, because he gave up.
Wilson desperately wants to take them. He wants to kill all his poisonous thoughts and drown in oblivion. Thoughts like how if life was fair, House would be the one dying of cancer.
They both don't. House wants Wilson to know that he's there.
/
During the fifth month, Wilson can feel himself getting weaker, until at some point getting up in the morning seems like an unfathomable task.
During the fifth month, House can see Wilson getting weaker, until at some point getting up in the morning seems like an unfathomable task.
/
During the fifth month, Wilson switches from the Vicodin he was sharing with House to the morphine they stole from the hospital.
During the fifth month, House envies Wilson.
/
Wilson doesn't cry. House doesn't either, at first.
/
If you die, I'm alone.
/
Wilson feels incredibly cold and empty. On the chair next to his bed, tears well up in House's blue eyes.
Wilson wants to comfort him, wants to tell him that everything will be alright. He had a good life. He had the best friend. His vision is blurry.
/
Tears run over House's cheeks into his scruffy beard. His hands are shaking as he slowly increases the morphine.
/
You have everything you need right here. We both do.
/
Wilson breathes in slowly. He feels a hand on his and knows that House is there with him.
House breathes in slowly. He knows he has to say goodbye. House is afraid of losing. He lost everyone. And now he is losing Wilson. Forever.
/
I don't know what I'm gonna do without you.
/
He carefully leans towards Wilson and almost wants to laugh because the pain shooting up his leg seems so incredibly superficial and ridiculous and meaningless.
/
Wilson feels strong arms around him. He feels warmer now, though his body is numb. He sees darkness. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. He was wrong.
He wants to stay. He wants to stay with House forever. He doesn't want to die. He also doesn't want House to ever let him go.
/
"I love you," House says. "I love you."
House wants to repeat the words to infinity. There are so many things he wants to say to Wilson. How sorry he is, about everything. For being selfish and for Amber's death and for breaking his wrist and for wanting to stay on the bus instead of here with his friend.
But now Wilson is on the bus, and the bus is moving away, and House can't stop it.
/
Because it doesn't hurt here. I don't wanna be in pain. I don't wanna be miserable.
/
Wilson hears him, and he understands. He manages a small smile.
The darkness seems a lot more inviting. It emanates a warm glow, welcoming him home. Here, in his best friend's arms, he knows it's okay for him to go.
"I love you. I love you." House's whispering becomes faint.
House is still saying the three words when Wilson's heart stops beating.
He keeps talking as Wilson lets out his last breath.
"I love you," he says as Wilson's eyes become dull and lifeless.
Wilson is still, that one last smile still engraved in his dry lips.
//
A lonely old man lives in the tiny house by the shore. No one knows who he is. He walks with a cane. Sometimes he drives through the town on his motorbike, and they say his blue eyes gleam like stars when the machine accelerates beneath him.
There is a gravestone in his sandy backyard. Some kids once went there as part of a dare. It doesn't show a name. Instead, the inscription reads I love you. Your life was worthwhile.
Sometimes the man stands on the beach, looking at the blue waves and into the distance.
Then one day the lonely old man is dead. They aren't sure what to do with him, and they still can't identify him.
So they bury him next to the anonymous gravestone, in the warm sandy earth, next to the ocean and under the stars.