[HM] Write about your character the day after Amber died.
At least he’d asked her out.
It was an empty thought, one that didn’t hold much meaning in the grand scheme of things regarding Amber’s death, but at least it was something. He had asked her out. He wasn’t sitting there with the regret that he had never done what he’d clearly wanted to do. He asked her out and she shot him down.
The entire team had been given the day off, but they were still on call, should a weird patient come in that would happen to stoke House’s curiosity. Never mind that he was probably still on medical leave from nearly killing himself in the process of trying to find out that it was Amber in the bus crash with him, but that was besides the point. House would work even if he was on his death bed with a major cancer. Everyone around him knew it, and for the most part, they didn’t care. Even on radiation, he would still be one of the most brilliant medical minds in the world, and that wasn’t going to change.
However, none of that managed to change the fact that Amber was dead.
Because she was. It really didn’t hit Kutner until he was sitting at home on the floor, legs crossed in front of him, watching cartoons with a bowl of cereal in his hands. Amber was dead. Gone. Deceased. No longer living. Dead people always brought up a multitude of questions that he’d never thought he’d ask. Casket or cremation? If they chose casket, would it be open casket or closed? Private ceremony with a memorial service later, or would everyone be invited to the funeral? It never ceased to amaze him how many choices came with dying, and how people who were still grieving seemed to be able to make them. And yet, they were made. Funerals happened, services took place, people moved on.
For him, personally, he knew not a lot would be changing. He hadn’t known her that well, they weren’t really friends, and yeah, he’d asked her out once but that was more for her legs than for anything else. And she’d shot him down-not in a nice or pleasant way, but in a way that he’d known to regard as Amber’s way. She was, as House had dubbed her, a cutthroat bitch. On some levels that had maybe turned him on a bit, but on most of them? Not so much.
He wasn’t a masochist. At least not emotionally.
So no, he hadn’t liked her, but yet there was a great, big Amber-shaped hole where she used to be. He was going to miss her. On one level that was really weird, but yet, on another-it wasn’t. She was a part of his life. Whether he hated or loved her, she served some kind of purpose for him and she was there. She wasn’t anymore, and for that reason, if nothing else, she did deserve to be missed. Cutthoart bitch or not, she was still a person. He would always have regrets and memories related to her, and he would probably hold onto them until the day he died. Or Alzheimer’s kicked in, should he be misfortunate enough to have it.
But at least he had asked her out.
549 words
It was an empty thought, one that didn’t hold much meaning in the grand scheme of things regarding Amber’s death, but at least it was something. He had asked her out. He wasn’t sitting there with the regret that he had never done what he’d clearly wanted to do. He asked her out and she shot him down.
The entire team had been given the day off, but they were still on call, should a weird patient come in that would happen to stoke House’s curiosity. Never mind that he was probably still on medical leave from nearly killing himself in the process of trying to find out that it was Amber in the bus crash with him, but that was besides the point. House would work even if he was on his death bed with a major cancer. Everyone around him knew it, and for the most part, they didn’t care. Even on radiation, he would still be one of the most brilliant medical minds in the world, and that wasn’t going to change.
However, none of that managed to change the fact that Amber was dead.
Because she was. It really didn’t hit Kutner until he was sitting at home on the floor, legs crossed in front of him, watching cartoons with a bowl of cereal in his hands. Amber was dead. Gone. Deceased. No longer living. Dead people always brought up a multitude of questions that he’d never thought he’d ask. Casket or cremation? If they chose casket, would it be open casket or closed? Private ceremony with a memorial service later, or would everyone be invited to the funeral? It never ceased to amaze him how many choices came with dying, and how people who were still grieving seemed to be able to make them. And yet, they were made. Funerals happened, services took place, people moved on.
For him, personally, he knew not a lot would be changing. He hadn’t known her that well, they weren’t really friends, and yeah, he’d asked her out once but that was more for her legs than for anything else. And she’d shot him down-not in a nice or pleasant way, but in a way that he’d known to regard as Amber’s way. She was, as House had dubbed her, a cutthroat bitch. On some levels that had maybe turned him on a bit, but on most of them? Not so much.
He wasn’t a masochist. At least not emotionally.
So no, he hadn’t liked her, but yet there was a great, big Amber-shaped hole where she used to be. He was going to miss her. On one level that was really weird, but yet, on another-it wasn’t. She was a part of his life. Whether he hated or loved her, she served some kind of purpose for him and she was there. She wasn’t anymore, and for that reason, if nothing else, she did deserve to be missed. Cutthoart bitch or not, she was still a person. He would always have regrets and memories related to her, and he would probably hold onto them until the day he died. Or Alzheimer’s kicked in, should he be misfortunate enough to have it.
But at least he had asked her out.
549 words