Theme: #336 - "Heartache"
Warnings: None.
He finds him in the darkest corner of the bar with five empty bottles of beer scattered all over the table. He can barely hold his head up, let alone his eyelids. He stalks over and plops himself in the empty space across from him and earns himself a glare and he returns it with a smile.
"You're an idiot."
Wilson sluggishly makes a raspberry noise from his mouth and attempts to drink from an empty bottle only to realize that it's empty, and lets it fall onto the bench beside him. "Na ah."
"Yes, you are, and since I'm the only sober one here at this table, what I say goes." Wilson gives him a look of doubt and House smirks. "Now, since I'm sober, it also gives me the right to lecture you mercilessly like you do to me when I'm high."
Wilson rolls his eyes and stops abruptly when he starts rolling with them. He catches the table and pulls himself back up and blinks rapidly to gain his bearings.
"You're totally snockered," House mocks him in a condescending tone.
"Congratulations, even I had already established that."
"But why?" House quirks an eyebrow at him like he's trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle.
Wilson glares at him but refuses to answer.
"Is it--because of Am--"
"Shut up," Wilson fidgets in the seat and House knows he's hit the mark.
"Amber, dear sweet Amber," Wilson attempts to kick him under the table but hits the stand holding the table up and winces as he retracts his leg. "May her soul rest in peace."
"You're an asshole," Wilson makes to pull himself up and House grabs his arm and throws him back onto the bench.
The two men glare at each other for a moment longer before House leans in and growls at him. "'You got hurt. Get over it.' Isn't that what you told me?" Wilson shifts again to straighten himself up. "Isn't it? Or are you just a hypocrite?"
"Hypocrite?" Wilson laughs. "I'm only a hypocrite if she was still alive. See, this is where we're different House. Stacy left you willingly, and she's alive. Amber and I," Wilson eyes start to water and House knows he's going to lose it. "We were still together. She left unwillingly. She's dead. There's no getting together again. There's no second chances. It's done. I'm allowed to not 'get over it'. You on the other hand," The tears start to spill and Wilson's voice is breaking. "You have no right to even tell me to get over it."
Wilson rises from the table and this time House doesn't stop him. He watches as his friend turns and stumbles out of the bar wordlessly.
He stares at the empty bottles on the table and sighs. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, leaves it on the table, and rises to his feet, heading out after the other man.