House... has very, very beautful eyes.
I stare at them as often as I can. They are blue the same way that... cancer patients are accepting.
Sometimes they are bright, and sometimes they are dark. Sometimes he turns his head funny, and they sparkle in a way that I have never seen before. Sometimes he turns them down the same way that my patients turn down after the hope of the most recent treatment subsides.
Yes...House has pretty eyes.
And, whenever he talks to someone, they are sharp.
He sees everything, every detail, every emotion, every lie.
And he never looks at me. Not when we're talking, not when we're joking, not when I'm yelling at him for whatever he's messed up on.
I'm pretty sure that he doesn't want to see me.
He knows me inside and out, he knows what I'm going to say next. I don't know what it is about me that he doesn't want to see.
It's his...thing. He has to know everything. He can't be around me constantly for years and not know me.
I've been his only friend for years, and I don't know what to expect from him. No - I know what to expect, what is inevitable. He's going to pop another pill in an hour. He's going to insult me if I say something he doesn't want to hear. But I don't know what he'll say next.
I don't try to.
Why won't he look at me with his eyes that see everything?
I've decided that he tries very, very hard to not know what I am.
How could a man like Greg House, so quick, so sure, so easily bored, stay around someone as boring as me for so long?
Yes. That's definitely it. He wants to be able to be surprised by me.
But it doesn't happen often.
I know why I stay around him. But why would he stay around me for the few rare surprises left in me?
I obviously don't know him.
I wish that he would look at me with his pretty eyes, though. Just being around him isn't really worth it if I can never see them.
And...there might be some worth in being seen by something so pretty.