A/N Two drabbles this time. One for House and one for Wilson.
Enjoy.
Concern
House
What concerned him the most wasn't the morose face of his best friend staring into the middle distance. Nor was it the trembling hands he could see behind Wilson's back. Nor was it the frayed edges of his friend's normally pristine hair.
It wasn't any of those things.
The eyes.
It was the eyes of his best friend that concerned him the most. The eyes usually so full of emotion, whether it be anger, frustration or sadness, looked completely devoid of anything.
He glanced over and watched Wilson shuffle his feet on the damp grass.
He knew how much Wilson cared for his brother; how many days of searching and sleepless nights Wilson had undertaken just to find his brother. It didn't make any sense for Wilson not to be visibly upset.
He had seen Wilson at patient's funerals looking more emotionally involved.
Wilson's mother on the other hand was weeping enough for the both of them.
He watched closely as Wilson glanced at his mother before biting his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to quell his emotions.
Gently, he patted Wilson's shoulder hoping to comfort his friend or at least illicit an emotional response.
He got nothing as Wilson kept his gaze firmly towards the distant horizon.
Deserving
Wilson
He couldn't look down so he picked a building in the distance to focus his eyes on. As much as he wanted to gaze downwards at the simple pine box beneath to whisper his goodbyes, he couldn't.
He didn't deserve to have the option to say goodbye.
He squeezed his hands behind his back to quash the trembling sensation he could feel travelling throughout his body.
The gentle sobbing he could hear from his mother was getting to him but he knew that was a good thing.
To be comfortable was another thing he didn't deserve.
He couldn't reiterate to himself enough the fact that if it wasn't for him none of this would have happened.
A soft hand made its presence known on Wilson's right shoulder but still he did not move. He knew House was attempting to comfort him in a small way but he chose to ignore it.
He was undeserving of his best friend's reassurances and sympathy.
So he stood, staring blankly into the distance; undeserving of the ability to cry, to emote, to feel anything apart from sheer self-hatred and a numbing guilt that reverberated through his bones.
The service ended with a sharp closing of the Rabbi's book and the small group of mourners, House and Wilson included, made their way across the grass and back to their cars.