A/N: Oh, sweet Jebas!! It's a fiction by Larien and its got ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with Metalocalypse!! See, I told you I'd write one for a different fandom…This morning, before church, my brother was watching House, M. D. and it was the one where Wilson was leaving and House was being a dick about it. Wilson said something at the very end that sparked me to write another character exploration. Nothing special, just delving into the turbid mind of Dr. Gregory House. Read, review, and enjoy!

~Larien~

"We're not friends anymore, House."

The middle-aged man sat slumped in a chair in the office that up until an hour ago had belonged to his colleague, Wilson. He was glaring at the empty chair across the desk from him, with Wilson's parting words to him buzzing around in his brain.

"Leaving won't bring Amber back!" House finally yelled, standing up so abruptly that he knocked the chair over. The noise startled him and he quickly righted the chair and sat back down. He hadn't been aware of his surroundings. In his mind, Wilson still occupied the chair opposite him. "And on top of that, terminating our friendship won't bring her back, either. You, Wilson, should stop acting so childish." He nodded in a fatherly manner at the empty chair.

"I'm not sure we ever were."

"What? Of course we were! Don't you remember all those fun times we had together? Binge drinking, late-night phone conversations, those awkward sleep-overs." A fake smile affixed itself to House's face. "Oh, and there was that time we actually succeeded in building a house of cards! Wasn't that fun?"

"You're fooling yourself. I'm not your friend and I never was," the Wilson in House's mind retorted.

"Ouch, Wilson. That hurts," the pepper-headed man said, feigning damage. He pulled a small orange pill bottle from his pocket and popped the white lid off. He then sprinkled a couple of the white pills into his palm and tossed them down his throat.

Illusionary Wilson shook his head at the man imagining him. "You're pathetic. Those pills may stop the pain in your leg, but they won't stop the pain in your tiny, black heart. My leaving won't make Amber come back, and you overdosing won't make me come back."

House downed another handful of Vicodin. "It doesn't hurt to try," he smarted off.

"House, I told you, I didn't leave because of Amber. I left because of you. I'm an enabler," Illusionary Wilson smiled. "If I don't leave, you'll just continue down this path of self-destruction. I can't live with myself if I help you do that."

House swallowed the rest of the bottle and chunked it at Illusionary Wilson. It passed through him and bounced off of the back of the plush desk chair. "You know, denial isn't just a river in Egypt!" he yelled. "You're my friend! You're my only friend, really. I…I should…shouldn't take advantage…"

As House slipped out of his chair and onto the floor, Illusionary Wilson came around the desk to crouch beside his head. "We're not friends anymore, House. I'm not sure we ever were."

With that, Illusionary Wilson faded as he walked out of the office and House fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.