Lists, Part 2 (Neurosis by Desire)
Television luminosity, muted chatter, toned down chatter, laughing, sitcoms, dramas, soaps (almost over, thank god), Steve McQueen, home cooked meals, dishes, piano...desire, close, warm, "accidental" brushing against, down the hall, couch, pretending to sleep, watching him pretend to sleep, watching him sleep, moving to be near...
It'd been three weeks since he'd moved back in with House. Normal functions and senses restored and stress level reduced to below alarming neurotic levels, Wilson found himself thinking of other things. Like how satisfactory it would be to sleep with House, or how comforting it would be to lie against him while they watched television. The naughty things and the tender things, both were invading the time he was around House. Every time House came close he tensed, stopped breathing, became paralyzed, flushed...
He excused himself to get a glass of water, or alcohol, cough syrup, whatever came to hand. It didn't matter which, he just needed to get away from House. The lechery, the appetite, the dreams, and the facade of normality; this wasn't going to stop, wasn't a phase...
His obsession wasn't leaving.
Duotone.
Duplicity.
Duo; two.
Two; together?
He wouldn't talk about it. If he did, it wouldn't come out properly. And it would be too devastating to their platonic relationship. It would feel too awkward, too easy to fail at, too much of a temptation of fate for everything to fall apart. If he said anything, things would never be the same even if House had suspected, even if things went well, things wouldn't last. When would this fixation end? How long had he let it go on?
Do something, he was urged desperately by a voice interested only in gratification. He swigged the bottle of warm whisky from the counter and shut his eyes at the assailant taste. Avoiding this again, he noted. It wouldn't do any good to pair off, given their histories at relationships. Had House thought about this? Had it even crossed his mind? Wilson was sure it had, but knew that House was too engulfed in his own pains to think about it enough to lead to anything.
This problem of his was something that had been accumulating for years, it'd been there from the start, directed his actions, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies...he'd always felt something and it'd always been what life was, the ups and downs, the confusion, the frustration, the indulgence, the comfort, the moments in-between, the silent communications; he'd been thankful for the reminder that he was alive.
Act now, act now.
This was unbearable, living here like this. How many times had he come close to doing something rash? Maybe it was time to just get it over and done with. He thought on it a moment, the silence in the air berating him with demands.
"Going to bed," House said plainly, shooting down whatever monologue that had begun to well up in his mind. Wilson's voice was rendered unusable and nodded, though House couldn't see. He scoffed softly. What was he going to say? The words that he'd just passed consideration over already sounded flat and insincere. House's intentional ignoring of his state suddenly felt inexcusable.
"Don't wake me up in the morning."
Wilson hummed a confirmation, still not trusting the words he might say to make sense, moved back to the couch, flicked off the television, laid out; all routine. He'd have to move out again before this all drove him to something rash. He wished that he believed himself when he made plans to find his own place as he lay on the couch at night. It was impossible to believe when it was such an enticing idea to follow House, go into his room, join him, feel his warmth, and know the closeness...love the intimacy. But he couldn't bring himself to jeopardize things. But then, maybe he wouldn't be.
He sat up, caught in indecision. He wished he could be more like House sometimes, more daring, less concerned of consequences; a more formidable person, more comfortable with self, feeling whole; a more involved quality of life. Any boldness died quickly. Once pessimism silenced fantasy, sleep followed.