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moose_mcmooseUgh. I had a headache. And I was in the mood to write something a bit :-( and this was it.
Title: Ashes (thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
srsly_yes )
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: R (one use of strong language)
Words: 330
Disclaimer: I don't own them. A shame, as then I could buy some new jeans.
Summary: He wishes he could say it without a hint of a hesitation. Just a wee thing that's a bit :-(
He wishes he could say it without a hint of a hesitation but he can't. Not because it's not true; it most definitely is true and he knows this and feels it with every fibre of his being and with every pang in his chest. Or because he feels like an idiot for feeling this way, because he doesn't.
It's neither of those things.
It's the fear. Formed from the gritty ashes of age and experience. Formed from the pain of having everything he ever loved ripped away from him whenever he was close to being happy. His brother, torn and stripped by mental illness. Amber, whisked away by circumstance.
Formed by his own unnerving ability to jump before he was pushed. His countless wives and marriages, blown apart by acts of idiocy and self-sabotage.
He couldn't put House through this or himself for that matter. He couldn't sit, forever looking over his shoulder wondering when it would all end or stand, steadying his balance in preparation for the rug to pulled from beneath him. Because, in his mind, good things can't last. It was against nature, against anything life had taught him.
Everybody dies and everybody fucks up.
House doesn't deserve to die just because Wilson loves him. House doesn't deserve to be cheated and fucked over just because Wilson loves him.
And he knows. He knows those are the only two outcomes from this whole debacle. And he knows he'll never be prepared for the first and he will undoubtedly contribute to the second no matter how hard he pushes against it.
So for now he bites his lip and swallows those words back down his throat.
House is planted on the sofa next to him eating potato chips and nudges him as another trailer home is crushed by the back wheels of a monster truck.
Now House is spitting chips all over his shirt because House is laughing. And Wilson would like it to stay that way.
Title: Ashes (thank you
srsly_yes )Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: R (one use of strong language)
Words: 330
Disclaimer: I don't own them. A shame, as then I could buy some new jeans.
Summary: He wishes he could say it without a hint of a hesitation. Just a wee thing that's a bit :-(
He wishes he could say it without a hint of a hesitation but he can't. Not because it's not true; it most definitely is true and he knows this and feels it with every fibre of his being and with every pang in his chest. Or because he feels like an idiot for feeling this way, because he doesn't.
It's neither of those things.
It's the fear. Formed from the gritty ashes of age and experience. Formed from the pain of having everything he ever loved ripped away from him whenever he was close to being happy. His brother, torn and stripped by mental illness. Amber, whisked away by circumstance.
Formed by his own unnerving ability to jump before he was pushed. His countless wives and marriages, blown apart by acts of idiocy and self-sabotage.
He couldn't put House through this or himself for that matter. He couldn't sit, forever looking over his shoulder wondering when it would all end or stand, steadying his balance in preparation for the rug to pulled from beneath him. Because, in his mind, good things can't last. It was against nature, against anything life had taught him.
Everybody dies and everybody fucks up.
House doesn't deserve to die just because Wilson loves him. House doesn't deserve to be cheated and fucked over just because Wilson loves him.
And he knows. He knows those are the only two outcomes from this whole debacle. And he knows he'll never be prepared for the first and he will undoubtedly contribute to the second no matter how hard he pushes against it.
So for now he bites his lip and swallows those words back down his throat.
House is planted on the sofa next to him eating potato chips and nudges him as another trailer home is crushed by the back wheels of a monster truck.
Now House is spitting chips all over his shirt because House is laughing. And Wilson would like it to stay that way.
