So I am back. I took a fan fiction writing sabbatical. I was museless. I had lost all writing inspiration, but this invaded my brain today while I was studying for my Russian History midterm and wouldn't leave until it was written. I am trying to decide whether or not to make this a multiple chapter story. Input is welcome.
Unfortunately things have not changed since I last posted, so I still don't own House, Cameron, and Chase. Shocking, right?
Here we go…
The job is great. Not having to take House's crap is great. Not seeing House on a daily basis? Not so great. Yeah, I know, I am with Chase now. But that doesn't mean I can't dream. Or that I won't dream. Every night.
Every night the same thing. Him and me. The timeless dance. It never grows old, or it wouldn't if it wasn't all in my head. But it is, so I am getting sick of it. I wake up painfully aware that I am here in my apartment, with a guy who I don't love. Maybe I thought I could love him at one point. Or maybe that was just me deluding myself, trying to distract myself from not having him. But I know now it won't work, the dreams, they are so real, and so hard to explain to my blonde bed buddy. So far I have managed to convince him that they are about him, but sooner or later I will call out House's name, and then what? As long as I don't say it out loud I can pretend it isn't true. Saying it out loud would be admitting defeat. That I am in love with him. That I never got over him. That Chase is just a grown woman's play thing, used to manipulate the heart of the one she truly desires.
So I live in my dreams. I pray that they come. I pray that they don't. They are all that I have of a life that I seem to only be able to fantasize about. But they kill me. They remind me of what I don't have. They remind me I don't have him. But when they come I can lose myself in them; surrender myself to the fantasy, of which I am sure the reality is even better.
I can pretend he is mine, for the here and now, and for tomorrow. Much beyond that I haven't considered. People think I am the type to plan out my relationships down to the flowers at my wedding right from the beginning. It isn't true. It isn't that I don't like flowers, because I do, even Chase has figured that out. But I am more concerned with what is happening today, and if I had House I would be so happy now, I doubt I would be able to plan much beyond tomorrow anyways. Besides I think my brain would be thinking other things.
Like how to get his shirt off as fast as possible. Not that I haven't already perfected that in my dreams, but in real life things are always more complicated. Like how he wears so many layers. T-shirts, button downs, and blazers. All at once. But he still pulls of the just rolled out of bed look. So damn sexy. He is a much better dresser with out trying than Chase is. And he spends more time in front of the closet and mirror than I do.
So I will live my world. A world with a thick line between reality and dream land. The line that divides them is my sex life. In the real world it is Chase. In my dreams it is him.
