So this is my second FanFic, it's pretty different to the first but please be nice.
Disclaimer: If I owned House, would I be sitting here writing Fan Fiction? No, I would be off writing scripts or bossing around other people who wrote scripts. I hope that answers your question.
James Wilson hated many things. It wasn't that he was a hateful person; it was just that certain things made him feel a certain way.
He hated the way House could ridicule him so easily, leave him feeling insignificant and belittled with just a few simple words.
He hated it when a patient died, they had put their trust in him and he had let them down.
He hated his wife; he hated all of them in the end. He hated the way they made him feel lonely when he was faithful, and guilty when he was not.
They were the things he hated the most, the big things. He also hated small things too.
He hated getting up for work, the way he felt in the early morning light, sloppy and smelly.
He hated lawyers. They reminded him of Stacey, of how House was after Stacey left, of how he was powerless to help.
He hated wearing blue; Julie loved it. She was always buying it for him but he hated the way it made him feel foolish and childlike.
He hated mirrors, the way he would accidentally catch sight of himself and never be happy with what he saw.
But above all there was one thing James Wilson hated more than anything else.
Himself.