The Other Side of the Mind
Wilson turned the key in his lock, pushing the door to his sparse hotel room open. Crossing the threshold, he leaned against the open door, forcing it shut, and closed his eyes.
Somehow, he hoped that everything would change when he opened his eyes. It seemed silent in the room; the only sound registering in his mind was his own breathing. Darkness engulfed his vision even when he opened his eyes.
Wilson didn't want to break this silent, serene illusion, but the wood at his back was getting rather uncomfortable and after the stress of the day, the only thing he needed was the semi-soft surface of the hotel mattress that didn't really do anything.
He moved his arm to his side, flicking on the light switch and he had to get used to the sudden brightness before continuing to the bed in the center of the room. He collapsed onto the mattress, and as soon as the creaks of the springs stopped, he heard (and felt) the bass line of some rap song from the top apartment.
I thought they were going to be thrown out!
Next came the heavy thump above him. He assumed that someone had either fallen, or the jumping had started. Groaning, he turned onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face to force back the headache he was about to get.
He had succeeded…for the most part. The throbbing in the back of his mind had reduced to a dull pulsing.
That didn't last long.
As another thud came from the wall, he felt the headache return in full force as he sighed in frustration. Sitting up, he held his head as he thought of his next options.
He could go out and get drunk. That was definitely an option, considering what had been happening lately…
He could also complain for the tenth time to the managers. They didn't seem to listen at all…
However…there was another option. He could—No! I will not go back there. Not after what he did.
Wilson had been trying to get the House-Tritter conflict out of his head since he learned the truth of everything. This had pushed the boundaries of their 'friendship' to its limits, and Wilson wasn't sure whether he was willing to put it on the line again or not. House had sucked him and his resources dry, forcing his license suspended and his bank account frozen. Sure, he had gotten everything back, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to renew the friendship that had lost everything to begin with.
"I only have two things that work for me: this job and this stupid, screwed-up friendship."
He had lost both in the face of the detective who couldn't mind his own damn business. Tritter had tried to force Wilson against his best friend, and no matter what was happening, that wouldn't go on. Period.
The more he thought about it, the more he figured he would have to make things right if they would ever regain what they lost to begin with. With Tritter gone, only the residual bitterness remained, and as much as he was hesitant to do so, he had to change it.
This place was getting on my nerves anyway…
Leaving the key on the bedside table, he grabbed his overnight bag—that he hadn't completely unpacked since arriving—and exited the way he had come not thirty minutes ago, ready to face the monster named Hostility, which took the form of his best friend…