I do not own House, M.D, or Elvis.
Note: Originally, House was singing a certain Elvis song. Since I was told (and agreed with) that HL singing EP is...ouchies to the ears (if he's trying to imitate him), I changed my tune and am leaving it up for interpretation--if you wish to hear him singing a certain Elvis hit, that's fine. If it makes your ears burn and your eyes water to think of it, don't.
The methodic thump-thump-thump rhythm stopped abruptly, and a chord hit the momentarily still air, strong and unwavering--dissonant. Wilson opened his eyes so that barely a hair of light could get through--where had the piano come from?--and closed them just as quickly. 13th, Junie--or what was her name again? Julie--good booze--great, in fact. Alcohol that slid silkily down the throat so quickly it only burned after the fact--House, the hospital, Katelynn--heart complications. Remission from the cancer, and her heart had to give out--laughter, Chinese, impending capitalist holiday.
He knew the song; he could probably sing it in his sleep had his head not screamed and fought and angrily shifted within his skull. He could feel the worms crawling through the tiny spaces in his cerebrum, eating and tickling and being general menaces. 1-2-3-4-5-6, 1-2-3-4-5-6, 1-2-3-4-5-6, beat, beat, beat, and House would never possess the talent of The King, but he had his own defiance of tone.
The clock on the wall shifted--12:01; where had the sun run off to?--and the playing continued. Wilson remembered the first time House played for him--not around him, or in front of him, or to him--and it was this song, with it's simplistic wise men and six-eight time, and House's playful, sincere voice flying with and over him like Aladdin's magic carpet.
From where his head lay on the back of the couch (next to the drool stain that House would never admit to, but how could it get to that position and seep onto his shoulder in just that way if it were his own?) he could almost watch the fingers as they caressed the black and white keys, the play of affection and comfort over and over, each merging in their own way with the rocking beat.
And even through the have of sleep and pain, Wilson smiled and returned to a realm where he would never have fallen for a sarcastic, sinister, bitter man.