Chapter Eleven: Anti-depressed
The ceiling fan seemed to spin in slow motion. Everything seemed slower here; so quiet. But not a pleasant silence; it was eerie. Uncomfortable. Lonely…lonely. That's what it was.
Chase felt like he weighed two tons. He lay askew on his bed, letting one of his legs hang off the edge. He'd wanted to find sleep, but it eluded him. It eluded him so gracefully it was almost maddening. Both men would fade into his mind on his search—first House, then Foreman, then House again with his bleeding lip, then Foreman with his last melting smile…
I can't keep lying here like this, he thought, rolling lazily off the bed. When he got onto his feet, he walked slowly to the mirror in his bedroom, and studied his reflection.
If any of his coworkers could see him—even the most pure tongued and pure hearted—would say he looked like shit. He felt like he looked like a Twilight vampire reject. He'd been sleeping, but not well. He noticed that the color seemed drained from his face…like some sort of dead thing.
"God, I look bad," he whispered to himself, managing to smile a little. He breathed deeply. I'm getting over this, he told himself. He felt like he was lying, but if he told himself enough, then he would eventually be over whatever he was feeling. He felt as bad as he looked…was he getting sick?
He felt sort of queasy, like the feeling from brushing your teeth on an empty stomach. He'd been making himself eat because Chase knew he needed to. If he were going to fall into depression, at least he wouldn't be anorexic.
The sound of the phone ringing shot pain though his head. His face scrunched into a silent scream and his hands cupped over his ears to block out the noise. He looked over at the caller ID. Cameron. She called a lot now, but Chase never answered. She was probably worried, but it wasn't her business to know where he was. House wasn't attempting to fire him so he figured his job wasn't in jeopardy.
Wilson looked up when sensed that it was House knocking on his office door. Knocking…House. Peculiar, but he went with it. He was tired of attempting to give him the cold shoulder anyway. He didn't answer though, because he knew that House would come in anyway. Like he did.
"Yes?" Wilson asked.
"Foreman."
"What about him?" Wilson put his pen down and placed his paperwork in a neat pile to the right.
"He hit me…"
"Oh…is that's what the…." Wilson made a sort of circular motion toward his face. "…is from?"
House nodded slightly, and limped over to the couch. "It's been a while…"
"He must hit hard." Wilson shrugged.
"…It was for the wombat," House replied darkly.
That sort of hurt. Who knows how long without talking to each other, and the first thing he mentions is Chase?...He probably deserved to get clocked by Foreman. Wilson mentally sighed.
"If you would have approached him first, this could've been avoided," Wilson lectured. "Do the bruises still hurt?"
"It's still like he hit me yesterday." House stretched out across the couch, letting his legs hang from the arm. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"But you're the one who's at fault…you probably provoked him. What'd you do?"
"…I held a bet on the length of his penis," House answered smartly with his signature smirk.
"You did what? Why the hell would you do that?"
"Is it that big of a deal? I was bored…" House said casually.
"You're lying," Wilson scoffed. "You're lying."
"Oh, fine. You seem to know the truth," House rolled his eyes.
"You're really that jealous? You're ridiculous!"
"No, being punched as hard as I was is ridiculous."
"Oh, come on! Someone clearly shows interest in you…you're interested in them…but you let them go off to another person? You're not making sense!" Wilson stood, his face beginning to turn a reddish tint.
"Oh, like you're one to talk!" House matched Wilson's standing position. "How long did you go harboring feelings for me before you said anything?"
"Because I know you're not interested! There's no point in me wearing my feelings like it's printed on some sort of cheap T-shirt if you're going to ignore them!"
"You're looking like the jealous one here," House smirked triumphantly.
"Ok, fine! I'm jealous. I'm jealous! But it's not like I went on harassing the person I'm jealous of! I don't make bets about the length of people's genitals! I don't torture my best friend! I deal with it in the way that's the least hurtful!" Wilson breathed heavily after his mouthful, his face hot with anger.
"That didn't seem to work out…you're stuck in second place, you're a jealous, angry man—"
"Only because you provoke me to! It's not like I'm choosing how I feel! ...At least I acted on what I felt. Even if I punched you in the face, I did something! I said…something. I didn't run away!"
"I'm not running! The best thing I can do for Chase is keep him at arms' length!"
"What about me?"
"I don't know…"
House hadn't thought about it. He went God knows how long without realizing that Wilson had feelings for him. But he'd known about his own fondness of Chase, not that it helped expressing himself, but he knew. He'd had time to think about it. Great, Wilson looked sort of like the creature Cameron would take home with her. But the expression left as House approached him.
"I never had time to think about it. But Chase…he's always in my damn head! Even when I'm stoned, he's still stuck in there! He's like…he's like…he's like a spreading cancer…or brain AIDS! How do you contend that? How do you fight an emotion that feels like a disease?" Although his voice was soft, House's tone still managed to pass for a contradictory soft yell.
"You stop running from it," Wilson explained wearily. "You face it like it's one of your cases. You think about it, try a few possible solutions. You figure it out, and then you cure it."
"Not if it's AIDS…and cancer's your thing," House smirked.
"You can cure it. You're Gregory House…you can cure anything you put enough thought to…"Wilson replied, eyes shifting down.
And for the first time in a long time, Wilson saw House give the closest thing to a smile that he'd ever made. Then he leaned forward, and for a moment, Wilson thought that House was going to kiss him, until he leaned a little past his face, and whispered a small "Thank you" before leaving the office.
The phone was ringing again. Chase contemplated chucking the blasted thing out the window, but he decided to continue ignoring it. Then his cellular rang a cutesy short tune—a text, he thought as he shifted through his sheets for his phone. He'd missed or ignored a few before this one, too. He began shifting through his inbox; a text from Cameron, which he deleted before reading. It was probably a text asking if he were okay. The answer seemed obvious. If he was missing from work, then he probably wasn't okay.
There was one from Wilson, from sometime during the night. It was rather rhetorical. It simply said that he hoped that he coped well with the feelings that were bound to arise. Chase knew that Wilson was rather observant, and that he could tell when the relationship ended. He didn't mind Wilson sort of checking on him because he didn't pry. Not with him at least. And Wilson would just send one text or call and then leave him alone. He didn't keep calling…he didn't drive him to thoughts of destroying his own property. Another smile snuck onto Chase's face.
The text from Foreman caught him off guard. He managed to laugh a bit because it warned him that if he'd gone and committed suicide that Foreman would find him and force him back to life. He'd demanded—not requested, that Chase not let himself slip too far in his emotions, that there was work to be done, even if it consisted of doing House's clinic hours, and that he would eventually refuse to cover for him and drag him to work.
"Eric," he said, sort of under his breath. His smile still remained. Eric Foreman wouldn't accept the pale Robert Chase who sprawled on his bed like he was defeated.
But the last text surprised him the most. It was short, only reading one word—if one would call it that.
"Sry."
From House. Chase wasn't going to forgive him as easily as before, but he wasn't any less touched. Apologies are House's natural born enemy. They don't appear within the same 40 mile radius on most occasions. And here, on his touchscreen, was a simple apology from one of the meanest (though desirable) men in the state of New Jersey.
Chase smiled a bit more. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought. He pulled himself up, heading for his shower, ignoring his rather ghastly reflection. It wouldn't be there for long.
House leaned back into his chair in his office, fiddling with his guitar. First doing simple exercises, scales and sorts, then a few random chords, and then a riff he'd made on the spot. And then he played an E minor seventh, then a G, a D sustained, then an A sustained 4/7. He played this chord phrase until he recognized what he was playing, and began to sing the words he knew went with the chord progression.
Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you shoulda, somehow, realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
Chase stepped in front of his mirror, fully dressed, with a look of approval. Like he expected, the ghastly Chase was buried under his bright eyes and slightly flushed cheeks.
Back beat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
Wilson sat in his chair, attempting to focus on his paperwork, but ended up rotating away from his desk with his fingers gently rubbing the bridge of his nose.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
House continued to play, rotating in his chair, letting him mind wander. He wondered how this particular song came to mind. He felt his voice vibrate in his throat. It felt sort comforting.
Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
Chase's engine roared to life and he shifted in reverse to begin backing out of the parking lot. He felt as if a new life had risen in him. He supposed that it was the feeling one gets after being resuscitated…or defibrillated. Sort of new…like he could start over.
Today was gonna be the day but they'll never throw it back to you
By now you shoulda somehow realized what you're not to do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
He'd settled for second place. And he knew it. Maybe that's what was keeping Wilson from being able to hold a steady focus on completing the paperwork that was still arranged in a neat stack on his desk.
And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
It described him, spinning in the chair, not really knowing what to say. He knew that "sry" wouldn't cut it. There was more…but House had never contemplated how to get it out past his lips. He could feel the vibration of the chord progressions through his body as he strummed. He closed his eyes as he continued to rotate slowly in his chair.
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
Chase caught sight of him for the first time in a long while—Foreman, though it was from a distance. Foreman looked up at him and they shared eye contact for a moment. That hadn't happened for a while either. And then, the melting smile crept onto Foreman's face. Chase supposed Foreman was some sort of happy knowing that he hadn't committed suicide or fallen from the face of the planet. Chase smiled back, not knowing when he'd be graced with the melting smile again. He mouthed a "thanks" in Foreman's direction and assumed he understood because his smile got bigger and showed off his teeth.
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
Wilson supposed that there wasn't much that could be done. House wasn't letting him past second place. He'd refuse to fight from here. The action that causes the least amount of hurt, that's what he was going for. At least, in the best case scenario, House would have the chance to be happy with someone, even if it wasn't him. He'd settle for that; an unselfish sense of romantic feelings. Everyone can't win, right?
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
You're gonna be the one that saves me
You're gonna be the one that saves me
House stopped the spinning of his chair by sticking his heel in the floor. Finishing the final chords, he came upon a sort of revelation. Besides himself, he wasn't quite sure who else he was singing about. He couldn't single it out as either-or. He knew that to a greater extent, he sang about Chase. But at the same time, a second thought crossed his mind. In a way, Wilson could save him, too. There was a communication block there like there was with Chase, though it may be somewhat different. It could be said that they did share a special type of feelings for each other, too. He'd never really considered Wilson for anything beyond his best friend, but the thought of him being something more wasn't entirely repulsive. Great. Wilson had put the thought in his mind.
Chapter Eleven-End
A/N:
Whoooo! It's been a while! Sorry for the long wait. You wouldn't believe what happens in four years! Graduated high school about 2 years ago, went on just about a complete writing hiatus. Went through a few crappy boyfriends, moved to another state! I'm in friggin' Texas guys! I still don't own House, I'm still a very big Omar Epps fan, and I've matured so much that I can even take reasonable negative feedback. You guys remember, when I started this fic, I was around 14, maybe 15 years old. Now I'm 20! So hopefully my writing does improve and I can actually finish this story out for you guys! The lyrics are from "Wonderwall" by Oasis. I got the intro chord progression from an old worksheet I had from my guitar class, I know that it changes up after the verses start, but noting all the chords would be tiresome... If you don't know it, YouTube it or something. I think it's a pretty great song. How many chapters should be left? I'm not sure…Oh, thanks for all the reviews. It inspired me to pick it back up. ^_^.R&R and Luff pancakes still for those who don't flame. I changed my pen name because I grew out of being emo. Instead of worrying about how far I might fall, I became a Chosen Hero and learned how to fly LOL. Much Love, Nozonda Hiiro.
