A/N: I like this one. We're moving farther away from Stacy and closer to Wilson. House practically stalked him this episode. Sorry they're still kind of short, but I think I make up for it with frequency.
Recap: Wilson moved out of House's apartment and in with one of his cancer patients, a woman named Grace, but lied to House and told him he got his own place. House found out and asked about the details of how they got together. House berated him for his need for neediness. Grace decided to go traveling abroad, leaving Wilson homeless again. House casually asks if Wilson is moving back in with him, but Wilson doesn't think it's a good idea. So before they go their separate ways, House makes sure they're "okay."
House vs. God
Something is wrong. With me. I think there's something wrong with me.
I don't do that. I don't check to make sure Wilson and I are "okay." I read him, I figure it out. I don't ask. Why was it so important for me to ensure that he wasn't mad at me or something? He didn't seem mad. Is it just because he didn't want to move back in?
It was pathetic, the way I asked him. So nonchalant, like I was only curious, like it didn't really make a difference to me either way. Yeah, right. I'm sure he saw right through that. Like I don't want him to move back in with me, like I'm indifferent to it. Please. How dumb do I think he is? Yes, all right? I want him to move back in with me. He wasn't looking at me when he said no, and even if he had been he wouldn't have seen anything in my face, but yeah, I'm disappointed.
It was nice, okay? It was nice to...come home at night and someone else would be there. I haven't had that since Stacy.
God, I am pathetic. I lived by myself for almost six years, and even longer than that before Stacy, and now I get a few weeks living with Wilson and all of a sudden I need that again.
I mean, I don't need it. I just...well I'd prefer it. The way I'd prefer constantly having morphine at my disposal, but instead I have to settle for Vicodin. Which is fine, because usually I don't need the morphine, but it would be nice.
Sometimes I hate that Wilson's not Stacy. If Wilson were Stacy, I could just tell him this. Yes, I enjoyed it when you were living with me, I want you to come back. And this time not leave. God, even in my head it sounds stupid. But I could say something like that to Stacy. Not to Wilson. He wouldn't believe me if I did. He'd think I had some sort of ulterior motive. Or he'd think I was joking. Or he'd think there was something wrong with me. There probably is.
Why does it make a difference? It's not like I don't see him and talk to him every day. And fine, I let him stay for the food, but I'm perfectly happy with peanut butter and take out. We still hang out and stuff. Besides, now his stupid hair dryer doesn't wake me up at all hours of the morning, his stupid maid doesn't mess up all my stuff, and if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to watch TV, my couch isn't occupied. There's no logical reason for me to want him to move back in. I should be happier with him gone. Why aren't I?
This is stupid. What does it matter, anyway? He's not moving back in. I asked him to and he said no. He'd be happier somewhere else anyway. We both knew this was only temporary. It's a tiny one bedroom apartment. There isn't room for both of us. My couch can't be that comfortable for sleeping. I'm not going to follow that thought any further.
It's quiet. I don't miss him. I just...I'd prefer it if he were here.
