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“If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1972
He had gotten the board from his mom as an early birthday gift.
The wheels were part of a new style that was slowly gaining popularity. He had always wanted a board of his own. The Z-Boys, a couple of years ago, started the whole thing.
The board now sits across from him, broken in two, almost as a taunt.
At least his dad was talking to him this summer, but God, this water is freezing.
And of course, John decided to place the skateboard he broke across from the tub of water that he’s currently getting dunked in.
There was a certain poetry to it all.
Don’t talk to John, and he won’t get punished in ice water. Talk to John, and he gets his things broken into two.
At least when he talks to him, he doesn’t have this crushing feeling in his skull telling him he’s done wrong. At least he doesn’t see the pain in his eyes when John looks at him.
This year, he knows that the man dunking him in the cold isn’t his father, just someone his mom is in love with.
He doesn’t think about the fact that what John is doing is worse because of that. What his mom ignores is worse.
He just thinks about the fact that John isn’t his father. Because if John isn’t his father, then he can’t inherit his anger, his coldness, or his hatred.
And that makes the cold water worth it.
The broken board across from him was not as painful.
And when the coldness gets to him that night, when his vision starts to blacken, it’s those thoughts that comfort him.
“The world has cried out against us both, but it has always worshipped you.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1991
A beautiful man is being beautifully destructive. House can’t take his eyes away from him.
The way he throws the bottle against the mirror, the anger curling his features in a way that makes him perfect. In a way John could never look.
Something is captivating about someone who appears harmless yet does something so harmful.
A person so unlike House.
The man looks like a warm hug on a cold winter's day. Someone who could comfort him in the cold. A person who protects.
Maybe that’s what intrigues him. Because no one is that perfect. There’s always a flaw.
And like a spark of triumph, he finds the flaw quickly.
He’s always been good at finding flaws. Or for people to find flaws in him.
The gorgeous man, with his not-so-gorgeous briefcase, is getting divorced. The papers are sticking out; the file is too big to be anything but.
That must be the reason for his destructiveness. Other than the jukebox. Everyone breaks eventually; a divorce would cause the man to throw the bottle.
If all the strings were tugged the right way.
Now that is something House can do well.
As he hears sirens pull up and sees the bright lights of the police, he smiles.
Because here’s someone who’s managed to intrigue him.
Someone so like and different from John.
Someone like that can’t help but get to know.
Perhaps that’s why he leaves immediately after the man is arrested. Follows them to the holding cells at the station, pays the bail.
Maybe that’s why he laughs as he hears the name Wilson for the first time.
Because he knows that they’re going to be friends, although he hasn’t been able to make a connection with anyone since he was fourteen.
Even though he believes he’s unlovable, this Wilson guy might just be the one.
“You and I are what we are and will be what we will be.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1973
He’s sitting in a hospital in Japan when he realizes he wants to be a doctor.
Well, it’s when he realizes he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and he can be a doctor.
The man who caught his attention wasn’t there for the people; he was only there for the puzzles, the mystery of the diagnosis.
Hell, that guy looked like a janitor. He wasn’t dressed in a coat or scrubs; he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. There was something so ordinary about the smartest man in the room.
Something so akin to jealousy was sketched across the others' faces when the man, who looked homeless compared to them, solved the case without meeting the patient.
Because House has never been too good with people. Maybe he was born that way, or maybe it was torn out of him by John years ago.
Either way, he isn’t good at communicating and probably never will be.
But this man, this doctor, gave him some sense of hope for a future where he doesn’t have to gain the communication skills that were beaten out of him. That he could be good at something.
That man gives him a goal. Something he could work towards. Something that had nothing to do with John or his mother.
Even as he’s thinking about all of this, a small part of his brain likes the job for a whole other reason. If he wanted to be a doctor, that would be something John would approve of.
And despite everything, not being related, the abuse, and getting ignored for an entire summer, there was a part of House that wanted his approval.
He might never forgive himself for that.
“The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1976
He’s not used to being away from his family. Well, that’s a lie.
He is used to being away from John; he’s not used to being away from his mother.
But he’s not upset about it. If anything, the more time he is away at this school, the less time he has to spend in ice baths and sleeping outside.
The States have more accessible sports anyway. For House, no one can break his equipment here. He’s free to skateboard, rock climb, and play lacrosse as much as he would like.
And those sports will look good on any college application. The four years as a varsity lacrosse player will help him get into med school.
A dream that rock climbing and a Buraku man have to thank for.
Another great aspect of John not being around is the fact that House can learn about music without being judged. Or tormented to an abusive state.
But mostly judged.
The more that he thinks about it, the less he hates being away from his family. Boarding school lets him do things he wouldn’t be allowed to do in John’s care.
A weird sense of adrenaline clutches his gut every time he plays music or goes to a skatepark.
Though the adrenaline picks up when he looks too hard at the boy who’s his spotter when he climbs. And maybe that’s what makes this whole experience worth it.
Because House likes that boy, and that is something John would never approve of.
He would be sent outside for an entire week just for looking at him the wrong way. Or maybe, John wouldn’t talk to him for a year. The ice baths might become boiling water.
He almost laughs at the thought.
If John could see him now.
“Was it really true that one could never change?” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1999
If John could see him now.
That’s the only thought running through his head as he lies in the hospital bed.
Would he be proud that he chose to keep the leg, or would he call him a pussy for not being a real man and cutting it off?
God knows how many of his dad’s friends ended up with an amputated limb.
Would he care that his son, his only child, the disgrace to the family name, lies in a hospital with a now life-altering disability?
He knows his mother would care. She would probably cry too much if you asked him. Her caring would almost be performative.
Trying to prove to House that she does care, despite the years of ignored abuse.
Even though she’s cheated on her husband. Even though she shipped him away.
She would be there crying at his bedside, not even realizing the impact of the injury on his everyday life.
The amount of physical activity he does daily ranges from runs to hikes and golf. Not to mention the skateboards he owns; he probably won’t be able to look at those ever again.
Does she think about the amount of pain he’ll be in as she cries? Or does she just think about the impact having a visibly disabled son will have on the family’s name?
Who is she crying for?
Herself or him?
Perhaps he doesn’t want to know. The pain of that answer might be worse than the pain he’s feeling in his leg.
Or maybe the pain is the fact that he already knows the answer.
It probably doesn’t matter; she’s not here anyway.
But Wilson is here.
Wilson, who’s stayed by his bedside. Wilson, who’s beautiful.
Someone House can never have, not while he’s with Stacy, and Wilson will never have the same feelings.
Stacy, who chose the surgery to remove a fistful of muscle from his leg. A leg on which he used to play lacrosse, rock climb, skateboard, golf, hike, and even cheerlead. (Even if that was just to get the attention of the boy he thought was hot on the football team.)
Stacy, who isn’t here. But Wilson, who is.
House might never be able to love someone the way he loves Wilson.
And Wilson will never be able to love House.
Goddamnit, his leg hurts.
“His sin? He shrugged his shoulders. The death of Basil Hallward seemed very little to him. He was thinking of Hetty Merton.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
1964
A man is running on the television.
The announcer is yelling as he’s slowly beating the competition, place by place.
His dad is watching with a sad look on his face, or he thinks it’s a sad look. His eyebrows are all scrunched funny, and his smile is upside-down.
He brings his head away from his dad, back to the television. The people stopped running; they’re holding their knees and breathing heavily.
The man who caught his attention is smiling, so unlike his father that he can’t help but watch.
The announcer is saying something about him being the fastest man alive. But Gregory doesn’t understand how they can decide all that with just one race.
Maybe his dad can’t either, and that’s why he’s sad.
“Why is he the fastest?” He taps his dad on the leg as he asks the question.
“Well, bud,” his dad reaches for his hair and ruffles it, “he won this race against all the other fast people in the world.”
“So everyone he raced was the fastest?”
His dad laughs a little, his sad face disappearing. And it hits Gregory that he caused his dad to look that happy. He wants to continue seeing people that way. He doesn’t like it when his dad is sad.
“Everyone in that race had won so many races before that they all got to race in this one. That’s what makes this race special.”
“Special?”
“Like super fast, the most important. The best.”
“Oh. So the man who won, he’s the most special?”
“I guess so, bud, but do you want to know what's even more special about him?”
He nods, keeping his eyes on his dad’s face. It’s not often that he sees him this happy about something.
“Well, this guy, his name is Robert Hayes, and what’s so special about him is the fact that he’s not only fast, he’s also really good at football.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he’s going to play in the NFL this year.”
“I want to do that someday.”
His dad’s smile gets wider. “Yeah?”
“That’s going to be me; I’m going to be that fast of a runner.”
“You’ll be the fastest, bud.”
"In hypocrisy he had worn the mask of goodness. For curiosity’s sake he had tried the denial of self. He recognised that now.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
2006
There was a certain poetry to it all.
Getting shot only to end up pain-free.
Only for that pain to end up worse than it was before.
For the month of liberation to come back as years of hell.
For him to start being active again, only to feel his leg pain as he starts running.
Maybe the poetry comes from the fact that, despite it being almost forty years, he ends up back where John always thought he would be.
In a cold bath, staring at the skateboard he is unable to use, like a taunt.
And maybe it was foolish to believe his body part could change when a person can’t.
When he can’t.
But he thought for just a second that maybe he could. And that has to mean something.
It has to.
The feeling of riding a skateboard after so many years, of running through the park. Of seeing Wilson look at him with something other than pity brimming in his eyes.
It felt good to be looked at without pity, without people feeling sorry for him.
It felt good to be clean.
But he wasn’t designed for happiness. John made sure of that. Through years of ice baths, sleeping outside, and countless other punishments, carefully curated for House to never be normal again.
Because people can’t change, never change.
And that’s why he’s lying in a cold bath, his leg feeling worse than when the infraction happened, his neck and stomach feeling itchy from where the bullets hit. And a skateboard he’ll never be able to use again sits across the room.
As the coldness of the bath clears the thoughts away from his head, he only thinks of three things.
Robert Hayes on TV in 1964, John’s smile, and Wilson’s eyes when they watched him skateboarding.
Three things he’ll never see again.
"He was withered, wrinkled, and loathsome of visage. It was not till they examined the rings that they recongnised who it was.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.