Some things we don't talk about, rather do without, and just hold the smile.
His hand was really cold. Like it felt like he was dead. He wasn't of course, because she was alive and there and talking to him, so she knew he wasn't dead. But he was getting there. He was getting thin. He stopped taking his medication. He didn't really care. Didn't matter why.
Falling in and out of love, ashamed and proud of, together all the while.
The whole world had a blue tint over it like they were in a movie. He bent over and rest his elbows on his knees. She put a hand on his back. None of the exchange was warm. She was losing him.
You can never say never why we don't know when,
"Are you okay?" She tried to see his face through the hair crowding around his cheekbones.
Time and time again,
"No."
Younger now then we were before.
She put her arm around him and hugged him slightly. The exchange was warmer than the last one. Wilson was more distant. Morgan was more in love.
Don't let me go, don't let me go, don't let me go…
"Anything specific?" she asked.
"No. Just everything. Don't worry. It's just… just a phase," Wilson kissed her without emotion. Before she could kiss him back, he stood up to walk the short distance back to his apartment. He prayed she wouldn't tell House. He knew she would anyway.
Picture, you're the queen of everything, far as the eye can see under your command.
He looked around his bedroom. He had started calling it his now, Morgan said it was better for him, but it was still Amber's, really. He wished it was Amber's. Not that he didn't love Morgan, because he did, but after three ex-wives and a dead girlfriend, he didn't know who he was sleeping with anymore. It was like a communal watering hole. Everyone step right up and take a drink of Wilson. He's refreshing. He'll cure your ailments. Tastes great.
I will be your guardian when all is crumbling, I'll steady your hand.
Shit, there wasn't anything left. Just two, he told himself earlier, just to get to sleep so he could wake up and it would be tomorrow. Just get through the night. Did he take two? Better take two more. Better safe than sorry. Think I'll have a drink too. That'll help me sleep. Alcohol's a depressant, you know. Did I take those? Oh, look, only a few left. It's alright, I'm sure I took those other ones hours ago. The two before. Two? Four? Oh well. I think it was yesterday. Yeah, that's right, I'm thinking of yesterday. It's okay. I'll just take these and go lay down.
You can never say never why we don't know when, time and time again, younger now then we were before.
"Amber! What are you doing here?"
"Just dropped by to see how you are,"
"I'm okay, I guess. Nothing special."
"You've lost some weight."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Don't let me go, don't let me go, don't let me go…
"Wilson? Are you in here?" His apartment smelled like sterile gloves and a bar in the morning. The place was hollow. "Wilson?" She could have sworn she heard an echo. Her feet shook as she approached the bedroom door. It was open.
We're pulling apart and coming together again and again.
"Hi Morgan," he said. All he could see was her frantic movements. Jerkily, her heart stopping, she was dialing a phone. "Morgan, I'm fine," she didn't hear him. Maybe he was just talking softly. "Morgan!" he yelled as she hung up the phone. "Morgan! Listen to me!" She wasn't listening to him. She didn't hear him. She didn't even see his mouth move. She usually was very observant—how could she not notice him talking? Just talking? Morgan? Hello?
We're growing apart but we pull it together, pull it together, together again…
The settings changed. Everything went from blue to white. It was like a montage. Faces flew by just so he could recognize the person, not the details. He was being wheeled somewhere. Oh, hi, Cuddy. Beeping noises. There's Cameron and Chase. Foreman's to my left, Taub is to my right. I just heard Thirteen call my name. I respond. No one seems to be listening to me, they don't respond to what I say. It's House. It's Morgan. It's Amber. Don't let me go.