Friday
Title: Friday
Pairing: House/Wilson
Word Count: 440
Rating: PG
Summary: After 5 x24, Both Sides Now, with spoiler for 6 x 1, angsty.
Disclaimer: Of course the characters belong to David Shore and company.
Friday
It was Friday evening. He was grateful for that. It meant two days without having to look away from their stares, two days with no one asking him if he was okay, two days of not pretending, to himself, nor to anyone else .
He took off his tie, he got a beer from the fridge, and he sat down on the couch. He turned on the TV, but he didn’t bother to look for something to watch, he didn’t even know what was on. The sound was off, and the images flickered in front of him. He sighed, and reached over to the coffee table to get the small amber bottle.
He opened it, and took out two pills. He shook his head, then he put them in his mouth and washed them down with a swig of beer. If only they knew, but no one knew. They couldn’t know.
He stared at the TV, and at the window too, and watched the light fade away. Then he drank some more beer and lay back on the couch.
He closed his eyes. Two days with no pretending. Two more days with no one knocking on the door…..
He was at the beach, it was bright and sunny, and children were running and laughing all around him. He walked towards the water. The sunlight was flickering on the water, the waves were rippling onto the sand. It was quiet, except for the laughing of the children. He walked into the water, it was so peaceful, he kept walking and walking.
Then he jumped, the laughing was gone, the peace was gone, replaced by the shrill ring of the phone.
He sat up, and picked up the phone. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Wilson….”
“House?”
“Yes. How many other friends do you have in the asylum?”
“House? Why are you calling? I thought you didn’t have a phone.”
“Wilson, I need you….”
“House? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Wilson, you need to come here, tomorrow. Two o’clock, visiting hours”
“House, they said you weren’t ready for visitors….”
“Doesn’t matter. I need you. Two, tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Wilson?”
“Yeah House?”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That was it. Wilson sat there, on the couch, staring at the TV, holding the phone tightly in his hand. He waited till the pounding in his chest subsided. Then he put the phone down, and he picked up the amber bottle again, and took out two more pills.
He washed them down with the last of the beer, and he lay back down on the couch and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow
Saturday
.