Dearest Readers,

Dark subjects are in this chapter, so if you can't deal with that…well, I honestly don't know what to tell you because those things are important in the story.

Read on, Cherubs.

Over and out.

Chapter 3

Chase lay curled up on the center of his bed, his dull green-blue eyes staring at the window which offered very little light through the drawn blinds. The room was dark and slightly cold, making his face feel colder due to the tear stains on his face. His thinning body felt weak as his crying episode faded into sniffs as his mind felt exhausted.

He had fallen into the grip of flashbacks, screams and words ringing in his ears as images flashed before his eyes. His mind exhausted by the effort of attempting to fight back against the memories that flooded his mind. His body was drained by the crying episode that gripped him like a vice.

He sighed heavily as he brushed his hand across his cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of tears. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he laid his left arm out in front of him, looking emotionlessly at its thinness; white and pink lines littered his skin from years of self-injury. A deep vertical gash laid on his bicep, an angry shade of red compared to the slight paleness of his skin. He had taken the bandage off after he had removed his button-up, leaving him with his white undershirt hanging a bit loosely around his shrinking frame.

He and House had agreed to leave the hospital at about 9:00, but Cuddy decided to chew the older doctor out as they walked towards the exit. House had sighed dramatically and continued to walk towards the exit, but then Cuddy laid the ultimate trump card:

An extra 15 hours of clinic duty if he leaves the hospital.

So House said, giving Chase the looking that told him that he knew where he lived and would be at his place as soon as he could.

Chase jumped has he felt a hand on his shoulder and quickly looked up, not caring about the tears on his face. It was House. He was sitting on the edge of Chase's bed, looking at him with deep worry in his eyes. Chase blushed and redirected his eyes as he shifted his head to lie across his bicep, hoping that House didn't see the gash that he had inflicted on himself.

"Come here." House said and he walked out of the room towards the living area. Chase dragged himself up and followed. House was sitting on the couch, tapping his cane, when Chase arrived and carefully sat down next to the older man; he felt House's eyes fall on him. Chase wiped his hand again across his face, getting rid of the fresh tears they ran from his eyes when he saw House sitting on his bed. Silence lingered between them; Chase slumped back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

"I'm not going to force you to say anything. But, I think it'll be in your best interest if you did." House said, breaking the silence. Chase bit his lower lip lightly as his heart began to pound rapidly at the thought of what House would think of him.

"Anything you say will stay between us, okay? I'm not going to think badly of you, no matter what you say." House said softly as though reading his thoughts. Chase still remained quiet for a few minutes, making House think that Chase was having second thoughts.

"Remember when my dad came?" Chase asked and House had a feeling that his father played a huge roll in Chase's current state.

"Yeah, I remember."

"When I was young…he did more than just leave." He paused, trying to organize his thoughts. "He was...very, uh… very…verbally…abusive towards me. However, he never laid a finger on me. He screamed at me a lot; never said anything nice to me. He always said that I was…big and worthless. That I didn't deserve to have his blood and that I wouldn't amount to anything. He even said that I was not his son because I was not good enough to be." He sighed slowly, steadying himself. House had moved slightly closer to the blonde without Chase's knowledge. "He even said that no matter what I did, he wouldn't care in the slightest." House felt a burning anger ignite in his core.

"When I was 16 years old, I took him up on that…that he truly didn't give a shit about me." He paused. "I…I uh…" He choked and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Going against his better judgment, House moved closer to Chase and carefully placed an arm around Chase's bony shoulders, making the blonde lift his head and turn towards him; his green-blue eyes were glassy, surprised by House's comforting gesture. He was then surprised by his own reaction when he hesitantly leaned against House, which also surprised House.

"I…" House looked deep into Chase's eyes, trying to see what was making Chase hesitate. The blonde turned away from him and down at his lap. House heard him mumble something inaudible.

"What?" House asked quietly, knowing that he was beyond dangerous territory. Chase hesitated for a few moments.

"I tried to kill myself."

House's heart froze. He never saw any remote sign that had hinted towards a history of suicide. No scar, no sensitivity to when suicide was mentioned, nothing. His head and heart felt like they were about to burst with the very thought of never have met Chase because of suicide. He was snapped back to reality when Chase started speaking again.

"I put a gash on the left side of my rib cage, between two ribs, nicked my lung, and began to breathe blood; and just patiently waited. I blacked out and a few days later I woke up in the hospital…my dad wasn't there." Chase let out a sob as the memory came back to him. House tightened his hold on him, causing his brow to furrow as he felt Chase's bones stick unnaturally against his arm.

"My dad never came to the hospital…the only person who visited was my friend, Aura. She was my only friend." He let out a small laugh, "She's very silly. We try to talk to each other once a week or so…it's been more often lately." He paused, thinking about how Aura would try to make him feel better about everything.

"She tried to convince me that my dad cared and that he was just busy, but I knew better…he never cared." He paused again and House had a feeling that things were going to get worse, but he waited patiently for Chase to say those things on his own.

Chase leaned heavier against House, slowly inhaling his musky scent as he gently grabbed the hem of his blue shirt, fiddling with it slightly. House fought back a small smile that threatened to cross his face as he felt the blonde lean heavier against him, not used to this intense feeling of fondness and affection. He felt Chase fiddle slightly with the hem of his shirt and he began to smell a light scent of peach, but then realized that it was Chase's hair. Carefully, he reached up and brushed a small chunk of blonde hair away from Chase's face, resting his hand on the top of his head near his hairline as he looked down at him.

"When I was released from the hospital, I packed my things and moved in with Aura for a while…I didn't want to intrude for too long. But I couldn't let go of the feeling that the gash in my side brought, I missed that feeling and it felt like my skin was crawling." He hesitated.

"That was when I truly began to hurt myself. I moved from my torso to my arms. I knew that what I was doing was wrong and that I should talk to someone, but I couldn't imagine not having that feeling and telling someone about what I was doing would make me have to stop. So I kept it to myself, even Aura didn't notice." House brushed his hand over Chase's hair again, honestly not understanding why he was showing so much affection.

"Years passed. I was in medical school now, but I was miserable. I was still hurting myself as well." The thought dawned on House that if Chase had been hurting himself since he was 16; chances are that he's still in that cycle of self-destruction. He began to silently berate himself for not seeing the signs.

"Then when I was…about 20, I met someone who saw me as the exact opposite of what my father told me I was. But, then he changed…he started to become like my dad. He called me the same things my dad would and that I had too many flaws and that no one would ever love me because I was so imperfect."

"Chase," House said quietly, not wanting to startle him, "There is no, absolutely no such thing as perfect. People who say there is are lying." He felt Chase grip his shirt as House hoped that his words had some impact on him. Chase was quiet for a few moments.

"It was then that I started to think that the only way to be considered lovable was to find a way to be perfect. So, I did everything I could think of to make me perfect. Over time…I, um…kind of…" He didn't want to tell him. He couldn't bring up the shame.

"I…kind of…stopped eating."

House's heart fell to the pit of his stomach and anger at himself swell in his chest. He then thought back to earlier today when they were on the roof, when he had his arm around his shoulders…his very bony shoulders; even sitting here now…he could feel Chase's bones against him. He looked down at Chase's body, but he was only able to see his left side, so he began taking in the fact that he could vividly see his collarbone stick out from his body; his hand bones more prominent.

He then realized that he always wore long sleeves, even when he didn't have to; probably to hide the cuts and skinniness of his arms and torso. He always thought that Chase just had an angular face but no…he just didn't have enough fat in him to fill up his face, making it appear angular. He felt Chase shake, knowing that he was becoming overwhelmed.

House felt his anger towards himself grow hotter. Why didn't he see the signs? Why didn't he notice Chase's struggles, despite the fact that he was extremely secretive? Why didn't he see anything? He then began to remember what usually happens when he and the team get wind of someone being admitted for an eating disorder. He felt shame suffocate him when he realized that Chase never spoke a word as they said…very unnecessary things about it.

What the hell was wrong with them?

"Chase, look at me." He said quietly, he didn't want Chase to think that he hated him. Chase slowly looked up at him, misery evident in his eyes. House looked down at him evenly. "I don't think any less of you. I think that you made a wrong decision, but I certainly don't hate you and I'm not disgusted with you." He paused for a moment, wanting Chase to really hear his words.

"I think, right now, you don't want help for any this, but you need it…you could die from this. You're fine just the way you are and I don't want to lose you over something that can be dealt with. You don't have to get professional because I'm going to help you." House pushed away the thought of the large amount of irony and hypocrisy that was in his statement.

Chase was stunned.

House had accepted everything he said without looking down on him or hating him. He clearly said that he didn't want to lose him…because he cared. Chase realized then that this was his opportunity to take his life back. But taking his life back meant making lots of changes that he wasn't sure he was willing to make.

"You're willing to help me?" Chase asked cautiously and House allowed a small smile to spread across his face, surprising Chase.

"I don't like to say things I don't mean." It was Chase's turn to smile, lightening House's heart.

Chase looked away and towards the coffee table, feeling tiredness creep up on him. As he felt House's body heat continue to radiate through him, he realized that for the first time in a very long time…he felt safe. A small smile still on his face, Chase slowly closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

HouseXChase

Alright Gang,

I know House was OOC, and that Chase was too. But I'm going to tell you guys right up front: Chase and House are going to be OOC for a lot of parts.

Reviews would be wonderful!

When-Rabbit-Howls