Washing it away [open, multiple threads welcome]
It had taken him some time to clean his room. And understandably so, given the state he'd allowed it to sink to. He wasn't sure whether or not to make the bed or rip the sheets from the mattress and set fire to them. Wilson settled on making the bed, hoping that perhaps a maid would visit the room soon. There were so many questions, so many unknown variables. Even as he tried to go about making a neat pile of all his dirty clothes, he constantly felt like looking over his shoulder and half expected a pair of eyes to be staring back at him.
He needed to get out of this room. Going back to it, even after his brief escape outside with Stacy, had been difficult. It seemed ironic on some level that he should be overcome with such dread and despair upon entering it again after never wanting to get out of bed for so long. Once he was satisfied with the look of it, though, he turned and faced the door without another glance around. It still seemed sterile, as it always had. But better to be unpersonalized and unremarkable than uncharacteristically disgusting and littered with numerous empty scotch bottles.
Again he found himself facing the same dilemma, though. Where to go? The bar was off limits. It was difficult to breathe outdoors. And Wilson didn't know anyone. The idea of seeing House wasn't one he was fond of, even though he knew it would come to that eventually.
On a whim, he decided to visit the pool once more. A swim would do him good. Being active at all would do him good. He doubted he'd find anyone who knew him there. Or perhaps he hoped he wouldn't. Right now, he needed to be away from the person that he'd seen reflecting in the eyes of House, and he still wasn't sure about Cuddy. Of course there was a part of him that wanted very much to see them both, on some level. But not under the same circumstances. Loitering around Stacy wasn't exactly fair to her, so the pool it was. At least he knew where to find that.
He quickly found his swimming trunks and changed into them, happening upon a clean towel in the process. It had been stuffed under the bench, and after he wrapped it securely around his waist he took his habitual glance at the mirror. What he saw wasn't as disconcerting as it could've been. He was thinner, still looked tired, a bit paler than usual. But the dark circles under his eyes were gone, his face was shaved and his eyes weren't glassy.
Maybe change was possible. Despite House's words. His lack of faith was to be expected, Wilson supposed. It was justified, too. Didn't make it hurt any less.
With that thought, he left the bathroom and grabbed up his key before exiting. The walk down the hall was a hasty one, Wilson not being terribly comfortable in his lack of clothing. He quickly approached the stairs and took them two at a time, actually capable of standing upright at this point.
Upon reaching the pool at last, he kept his eyes averted and quickly unwrapped his towel from his waist. He sat down at the far edge of the pool, slipping his legs into the water. The cool temperature was refreshing and he lowered himself off the ledge and into the water without hesitation. God, that felt good. One or two deep breaths later and he dipped under, pushing off the wall of the pool with his feet and beginning a lap across the wide expanse of the water.
He needed to get out of this room. Going back to it, even after his brief escape outside with Stacy, had been difficult. It seemed ironic on some level that he should be overcome with such dread and despair upon entering it again after never wanting to get out of bed for so long. Once he was satisfied with the look of it, though, he turned and faced the door without another glance around. It still seemed sterile, as it always had. But better to be unpersonalized and unremarkable than uncharacteristically disgusting and littered with numerous empty scotch bottles.
Again he found himself facing the same dilemma, though. Where to go? The bar was off limits. It was difficult to breathe outdoors. And Wilson didn't know anyone. The idea of seeing House wasn't one he was fond of, even though he knew it would come to that eventually.
On a whim, he decided to visit the pool once more. A swim would do him good. Being active at all would do him good. He doubted he'd find anyone who knew him there. Or perhaps he hoped he wouldn't. Right now, he needed to be away from the person that he'd seen reflecting in the eyes of House, and he still wasn't sure about Cuddy. Of course there was a part of him that wanted very much to see them both, on some level. But not under the same circumstances. Loitering around Stacy wasn't exactly fair to her, so the pool it was. At least he knew where to find that.
He quickly found his swimming trunks and changed into them, happening upon a clean towel in the process. It had been stuffed under the bench, and after he wrapped it securely around his waist he took his habitual glance at the mirror. What he saw wasn't as disconcerting as it could've been. He was thinner, still looked tired, a bit paler than usual. But the dark circles under his eyes were gone, his face was shaved and his eyes weren't glassy.
Maybe change was possible. Despite House's words. His lack of faith was to be expected, Wilson supposed. It was justified, too. Didn't make it hurt any less.
With that thought, he left the bathroom and grabbed up his key before exiting. The walk down the hall was a hasty one, Wilson not being terribly comfortable in his lack of clothing. He quickly approached the stairs and took them two at a time, actually capable of standing upright at this point.
Upon reaching the pool at last, he kept his eyes averted and quickly unwrapped his towel from his waist. He sat down at the far edge of the pool, slipping his legs into the water. The cool temperature was refreshing and he lowered himself off the ledge and into the water without hesitation. God, that felt good. One or two deep breaths later and he dipped under, pushing off the wall of the pool with his feet and beginning a lap across the wide expanse of the water.