A/N: My very own Wilson-ly rant. Slashy themes…believe what you want.
Disclaimer: Did You Know? I don't own House. Shocker.
Throughout my life, I was always taught that things must go by the rulebooks. Nothing was unusual, because everything was standard and equal. House is most certainly not standard or equal. He fits in category 4, 'other'.
I get scared sometimes. We all do. But it's different with me, because I can't tell my best friend. Can't tell if he'll care or not. To tell, or not to tell? Ridicule is always an option. I always weigh the urgency of my situation with the amount of mockery possible. And he still has the courage to ask me why I'm averting the subject.
But if there's one thing I can count on, it's House knowing. He'll always find out. Doesn't matter--it would hurt just as much if he hadn't found anything out. I can't tell my best friend anything without him mocking me, and I can't not tell him anything, because he'll find out, pry vigorously, then mock me.
He's…House. I don't know how to describe him. Most people I know wonder how I can even be a friend to him. They think it's a one-sided relationship. I sometimes wonder that myself. Is he sucking me dry? Does he even care at all?
But then I remember. As House always says, everybody lies. There's always a mask. You want to know what House's mask is?
Pain.
Because pain is the one thing that makes him unique. No one else feels like him. No one else can try to feel like him. I try to understand, but I don't really know. I can't tell when he's faking pain or when he's in too much of it. It's like trying to find your way around a bar with the lights off—the place you need to be, but with no clue where the right pathway is or whether the people you meet can help you.
He knows that I can't comprehend it, too. He hates it.
It hurts me to see him hurt. But for House, pain is the Great Escape. No one bothers the snarky doctor with the cane. No one pesters the grumpy diagnostician with 'hurt' written all over his face. No one knows how to react, so he gets away with it. If it didn't hurt so much, he'd love it.
But it hurts. Nothing I can do to take that away.
Sometimes I wish that is was me who had the infarction. Then House would still be with Stacy, and they'd probably be living happily ever after by now. There's nothing more in the world I want for House more than happiness. But it's up to him to take it.
Other times I'm glad it wasn't me. I can't even understand how House deals with all of the trials of his life. It amazes me. House is the strongest person I'll ever know. And for that, I love him. Friend or not, House taught me more about life than I ever could've learned on my own. Just the cold hard truth and a couch to get drunk on.