How far down does this ladder go, again?
Things hadn't gotten better or worse since he'd seen House last. Or Cuddy, for that matter. Being depressed wasn't something he was used to and neither was being drunk, but it turns out that neither of those things just go away
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Normally, she'd keep her nose out of things that weren't her business, but frankly, this guy looked like shit. Wendy had her off days like that. Those days were when she'd wish for Neil the most, if only to be there for a chat and a smoke.
So, she touched into her sensitive side.
"You alright?"
She didn't want to say anything to make him upset and if he said he was fine, she'd leave it at that. She knew that pushing anyone when they're having a bad day just pisses them off even more.
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He had exactly met many of the other guests, and something inside of him sobered instantly with embarassment. He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, blinking a few times and then smiling somewhat weakly.
"I- Yeah," he stammered, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head as if he didn't look anything but completely normal. His head pounded some more and he sighed.
"Obviously, no. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a bottle of aspirin, would you?" he asked quietly, his hands moving to his hips and his smile turning more apologetic.
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She thought of the clinic but then again he'd probably have a bunch of doctors examining him and judging him. That's what they do right?
"There's the clinic. Although, you might not want a bunch of doctors bombarding you with questions and judging you."
She shrugged, before giving him a straight look.
"A little too much?"
She kept it vague, just in case he was one to take it as an insult or something.
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"What? Oh, well," Wilson looked to the side and tried to shift his feet. He felt nauseated and standing up wasn't helping. After glancing down the hallway, he turned back to her and nodded slowly through a wince. "A lot too much, to be honest."
Thoughts of going to the clinic made him feel even more nauseated. He tried another smile and raised an eyebrow.
"Would you mind? I'll take it one step at a time."
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She nodded and said it with a smile.
"Been here before myself. I've learned to stop when I can't read the whole label on the bottle anymore."
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"I think I was illiterate a few bottles ago."
He gave her one more smile, a genuine one this time, and then cleared his throat. Which way were the stairs? God, it felt like forever since he'd been outside his room.
He turned to the left and swayed dangerously, pressing a hand against the wall.
"Right then," he mumbled, taking a deep breath and grabbing the back of his head with one hand. "Lead the way. Slowly, if you could."
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She wasn't going to lead instead she was walk beside him. She looked small, but she could probably grab an arm before he fell. Falling wouldn't be good.
"I'm surprised you aren't sick to your stomach, then."
She walked in front as they reached the stairs.
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"I'm pretty sure that train has come and gone," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. The taste in his mouth was horrible. Maybe he'd feel up to bathing after he got some aspirin. He'd feel better after a shower. But he was so damn tired.
Reaching the stairs made him snap to attention and he hesitated, looking at her warily. Heaven forbid he topple over. He gripped the railing with white knuckles and shuffled down them slowly.
"I think," Wilson started slowly, his chin pointed down as he watched himself carefully, pieces of hair falling over his forehead, "Someone removed my legs and reattached them when I wasn't looking. Incorrectly."
At that his foot slipped, the heel of his shoe sliding off the edge of a step. His arm shot out to the side, his other hand clenching onto the railing. He didn't fall, just dipped backwards.
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She kept a close eye on him as he came up each step and his statement got a light laugh out of her. Neil was good for this. Usually, he'd just take her in his arms and carry her up. She wished she could have done the same for Wilson, but there was no way that was happening.
As he slipped, she gasped a little before putting her hands onto his to keep his hands on the railings and pull him forward again.
"Don't kill yourself. I don't think the aspirin works that well."
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"The stairs moved. Really, they did."
He looked up at her and laughed breathlessly, then nodded in thanks. That sobered him up a bit. His hand remained clasping onto hers for a few more steps but when he saw the railing he let go. Now, he was able to focus more on his headache and how disgusting he looked. And this kind young woman who was tending to him. Oh.
"Just in case I slip again and fall to my death before we get to your room," he said, sighing with relief once they reached the landing. "I'd love to know your name. I'm Wilson, on my better days."
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She smiled and lent her hand to him when needed. When they reached the landing, she was oddly relieved as well. Luckily, she was only the third room down. She'd let him catch his breath first though.
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His hand went to the back of his neck unconsciously and Wilson suddenly felt embarassed again. This wasn't who he was, was it? Could he even be that person again? After losing everything, he wasn't really sure who he was.
"But seeing as they aren't, the aspirin is vital," he said with a smile, straightening when he felt a bit steadier and approaching the hallway. He waited for her to take the lead again, marvelling at how easily a person could lose themselves in this place.
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That's what happens when you live with your soulmate who also happens to be a gay prostitute. It's very complicated.
"Yup."
She took a couple steps before stopping in front of her door, grabbing the keys from her pocket, and opening the door. Her room had stacks of books and music tapes all over as well as posters and pictures she found in her trunk of stuff. Anything from home was precious to her.
"Have a seat and I'll get your pills."
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Other than the bed, which was perpetually unmade. His eyes dropped to the floor and then darted back to Wendy. Normally he'd sit up straight. Cross his legs. Smooth down his tie, if he was wearing one. But Wilson was too tired to do anything but sit, his shoulders hunched and his face drawn.
"Look, I really appreciate your help," he said suddenly, his voice a bit clearer than before. "I doubt I'd have made it to the clinic."
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She smiles as she came from the bathroom, pill bottle in her hand. She went to the kitchen to get some water for him as well. She came over and passed him the water and the pill bottle before going back to put some hot water on the stove.
"That'll cure you're headache a little but...you're still going to need to keep hydrated."
She said it like she'd been through this many times before.
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He fumbled with the cap at first but then managed to get it open, then gulped down three aspirin and drank the rest of the water for good measure. This had to stop. He couldn't do this again.
"Do you mind if I borrow the bottle?" he asked meekly, trying to carry his voice into the kitchen without being too loud. "I'll be sure to return the favor."
Maybe if he could just get back to his room. Clean up. Sleep a little more. Find House.
He blinked and shut that thought from his mind, listening to Wendy in the kitchen.
"This is really nice," he remarked conversationally, trying to sink back into the Wilson who was used to being around people.
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