After the Storm
"We're not friends anymore, House. I don't believe we ever were"
House had heard Wilson mutter those words hours ago, but they still sounded like if they had been said just moments ago.
House was sitting at his piano, the music he was playing calmed him. The notes his fingers played flowed into a soothing melody that helped him to forget, to leave reality behind and, in a way, enter another world for a while.
The melody continued to flow, and House continued to lose himself. That is, until he flubbed a note. That was when he was returned to harsh reality.
"Damn." He cursed under his breath. He opened his eyes and reached for the glass of scotch placed on the piano that he had poured himself earlier. After having taken a sip, House placed the glass back to its spot on top of his piano, then, started to play again.
It had hurt, but he knew that it would subside...eventually.
Life keeps going, no matter what happens. House understood that, and tomorrow, he would walk- LIMP- he reminded himself, into the hospital as if nothing had happened. He would do his job and come home at the end of the day as if nothing was wrong, even though it was, in fact, the other way around.
But nobody needed to know that, only him and him alone.
As the melody began to pull House away from reality again, thoughts began to vanish, enveloping him in a comforting blanket of emptiness. And suddenly, there was only him, the piano and the music.
END.