House walked into his house.
He slumped down into his desk chair, staring at the thick medical texts, the phone, the curtains that hadn't been dry-cleaned in years, everything.
He felt so tired suddenly. He knew that it definitely wasn't the stress from his current case; it wasn't exactly very tedious, probably because he hadn't been focusing on it. He hated it when he didn't put his whole attention on something important he was doing, but then again, he didn't feel like really paying much attention to it.
House winced as he got up and put the bottom of his cane on the floor. Resting his weight on it, he walked to the sofa and turned on the TV, something he hadn't done in a long time. He reached into his pocket and took out that comforting orange bottle of white pills.
Pouring out two into his hand, he capped the bottle again. He stared at the pills. Suddenly he felt that he didn't feel like taking them anymore.
He opened the small container again, and put them back in. He didn't like them.
The TV happened to be screening a football game. As he watched the players use their muscular legs to kick the ball, he felt the pain in his right leg again. The all-too-familiar pain which had caused him to use that cane that he was currently using.
Out came the pills, and into his system they went.
House wondered what was bothering him. It probably was Wilson's cane-grabbing incident earlier. He wouldn't be able to forgive Wilson for that.
Grab a crip's cane, and you're in for it.
He shook his head, trying to get the scene out of his head. He tried to focus on the game, but discovered it wasn't of his taste whatsoever. Sighing, he got up again, and shut the source of noise in his home.
He wanted his guitar. That wasn't a source of noise; it was a source of music.
He found the white-and-brown one, made an E major chord, and strummed it. It sounded wrong. He turned each peghead and flicked each string. There was no need for a tuner; he was proficient in the basic notes of the guitar and what they sounded like.
House now played a G chord. Ah. Perfect.
Many songs were in his database of guitar chords in his head, but now he particularly felt like playing a song that started with a G chord.
He ended up at Flying Without Wings. Its lyrics were clearly remembered because it had been one of the first few songs he had learnt on the guitar.
Everybody's looking for that something
One thing that makes it all complete
You find it in the strangest places
Places you never knew it could be
What's that stupid elusive, slippery, and so darn irritating thing I'm looking for? I don't know where it is, I really don't. I obviously haven't found it yet, unlike other people.
Some find it in the face of their children
Some find it in their lover's eyes
Who can deny the joy it brings
When you found that special thing
You're flying without wings
Okay, I like this song.
Some find it sharing every morning
Some in their solitary lives
You find it in the words of others
A simple line can make you laugh or cry
I'll find it in my solitary life, then.
Whatever it is.
You find it in the deepest friendship
The kind you cherish all your life
And when you know how much that means
You've found that special thing
You're flying without wings
Deepest friendship. What the hell does that mean? Chase, Foreman, Cuddy, Wilson? None of them.
And I haven't found my 'special thing' yet, whatever it is.
Well, for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you
In any given time or place
It's little things that only I know
Those are the things that make you mine
Well, for me it's waking up to find you on the floor
To watch the sunrise on your handle
To know that I can say I need you
In any given time or place
Stupid cane. But I like editing the lyrics.
And it's like flying without wings
'Cause you're my special thing
I'm flying without wings
Flying without wings, flying without wings, flying without wings, yawn, I'll fly with wings one day. Nice song, though.
And you're the place my life begins
And you'll be where it ends
I'm flying without wings
And that's the joy you bring
I'm flying without wings
Who's at the place where my life begins?