Illusion
It occurred to me, after finally catching up and finishing House, to wonder. Without Wilson, his best friend, his only friend, and, to an extent, even his conscience, what's left of House? So yeah. Enjoy.
Disclaimer. I own none of the characters within this story.
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Your heartbeat is fast. It's working harder and harder still to pump blood through your veins. You cough. Harsh rattling coughs that are surely tearing up your throat. Your lips are tinged with blue. Just a little. With how sick you look now no one would notice unless they were looking for it. But I'm looking for it. It won't be long, we both know. We can feel it in the way your hands shake as you try to let water soothe your throat. I can see it in the acceptance in your eyes. It's been lingering there for months, but now it's at the forefront. It'll be soon now. With every ragged breath you take and every second that passes I struggle to keep myself in check. To be calm and composed. I can break down soon. Soon. When it won't hurt you more. Because I'm resigned too. There's nothing I can do but wait. Each second pushes us just a little bit closer. And closer. And it almost seems real. I always thought I'd die first. We both know it would make more sense than this.
And still all I can do is dribble water on your lips. Hold your hand because someone should. And for some stupid, idiotic, fucked up reason I'm the only one here. You deserve more than this. But we can't change anything now. I can imagine this scene in a hospital. Your heart beat echoing in a room, rather than just under my fingertips, faster and faster until- Flat line. That long beep that tells you this isn't a dream. You can't just wake up from it and have everything back to normal. You let out a pained whimpering moan. The kind you said to forget about when this is over. When. No if about it. And I could strangle you because you could've changed this. Could've written a different ending.
I remember a couple months ago. This wasn't our reality. We were just best friends drinking and watching the sun rise. And then you shattered the illusion. Fragile glass that it was just made it too easy. What are you going to do, you'd said, when I'm gone? And I didn't really want you to know that I'd thought about it. In the middle of the night. While your sobs came through the thin walls of our rooms. I thought about it. The life I gave up. For you. The only one who could possibly deserve such a thing. Without you, I'd said, I have nothing. I am nothing. I need you. And you'd just looked at me. I knew you knew. Maybe not exactly what I was planning, but you had a pretty good idea. How? You'd said. It wasn't even really a question. It was empty. You always hated being completely responsible for another person's happiness. It'll be like Romeo and Juliet. I was drunk. Hardly thinking. Except when Romeo sees Juliet, she actually will be dead. You'd sighed, just a little, seeing where this was going. And Romeo can swallow the poison. It's not like Juliet will need it after all.
Your heart races under my fingers. Racing to the finish. And, for a quick second, I see fear flash in your eyes. Your fingers tighten around mine. And then you let out the softest sigh. Peaceful. I hear the flat line in my head and you look almost alright. Out of habit I glance at the clock. 3:47AM.
And finally it feels real. A tear slides down my cheek for the first time in five months, two weeks, and four days.
And Romeo sees the one person who matters most gone. Laying deceptively peacefully on his deathbed. Romeo takes a shuddering deep breath. And with a whispered I'm not going to say I love you Romeo drinks the poison.
0o0o0
I read that thymoma takes over the lungs and usually results in lots of coughing… Too lazy to do a lot of research so this is my best guess how it would happen. And, on a somewhat related note, there's an extremely well done video on Youtube for this. Look up 'House/Wilson I want you to live forever.' You seriously won't regret it. It made my dad cry. That's how good it is.