Just as usual, Chase didn't go to work. It was unfortunate to see him like this—Robert Chase huddled against himself on the bed in which he and House slept, shivering. He could have gotten up to turn up the thermostat. He could have wrapped his body in blankets but he hadn't.
He knew he had to go to work. House hadn't strapped him down like he had the past few days or even beaten him that morning, but the bruises had spread to his lower arms and neck. He just couldn't handle the stares and questions he would have received. He was very well known among House's group and they would have noticed instantly and asked. Well…maybe not Foreman. But Cameron would have kept asking before Chase was forced to tell her. He felt an urge to tell her whenever he saw her. Whenever he felt his phone vibrate against his skin.
He kept his phone next to him. He didn't know why he did but it may have been because it made him feel less lonely. The apartment made no sounds but the whirling of the ceiling fan and constant cynosure chatter from the tv that rarely let up.
He left it on not only for the sense of loneliness but for his peace of mind. He couldn't think straight at all. It was as if the thoughts in his mind were starting to play tricks on him. The smallest sounds made him jump with the fear that it was House's tirade of anger once again. He remembered it as being one of the worst fears he had ever had in his life—body shoved against the door with the futile attempts of trying to make House stay outside of the boundaries of the bedroom.
He had not slept in a few days. Every time he did he was plagued with constant nightmares of being drowned in the tub. They keep getting worse, bending reality into disturbing unrealistic outcomes. He dreamt of House peeling away at his skin because Wilson had touched it. He dreamt about House chasing him through the apartment slowly, cane trailing behind him laced with sharp spikes.
He was frightened by every movement House made. He would either come up to Chase, caressing his shivering form or House would beat him suddenly and without warning. House's mind was a lock that Chase couldn't find the key to. His act of making his usual grin or nonchalant expression was equally frightening. Thinking back, he felt that he should have felt this way the first time House went too far. But he hadn't expected to know what House's next move would be—nor did he expect him to cut his hair of all things. Or beat him with a cane. Or sprain his ribs.
He had no way of knowing.
But he wondered. Did it satisfy House to see him like this—cold and bare in every sense of the word?
Well he had accomplished his goal. Chase was sure not to talk to Wilson again. Because now Robert Chase felt undeserving of the comfort of thinking optimistically because he knew that he had chased away his last hope of ever feeling sanguine again.
He thought back to what he had said to Wilson in his fit of anger. What hurt most was the fact that Wilson's reaction wasn't in any way that he expected. He didn't hear Wilson shout back. He didn't hear Wilson cry. Chase had just hung up, leaving him to imagine what his reaction actually was. Maybe he had given up on talking to Chase. After all, he hadn't called back like he usually would.
Was what House said about Wilson true? Did Wilson really like Chase in that manner? Maybe that was why he was being so overprotective and controlling. But there was a difference between the two. House didn't care if Chase smiled. He cared that Chase obeyed. He cared if Chase kept his mouth shut. He doubted that Gregory House would have ever made him breakfast or help him if he was disoriented.
He thought about this as he shivered at his newly made bald scalp pulsing with the cold air making contact with it. His hair grew back fast fortunately. But something stopped his breath as it came out…what was stopping House from cutting it again? He could no longer control what was happening to his body.
House owned him. The multiplying welts on his arms House had created when he beat him with his cane was perfect evidence for it. Every movement he made to get ready for the next day of work was met with the reminder of what had happened to him. And to avoid it he had to avoid Wilson. He had to stay far away from him. He didn't want to be in pain anymore.
For once, Wilson had a quite content dream. It wasn't one likely to happen but it made him smile subconsciously until the reality of the conscious world made it slowly fade away.
Chase wasn't beside him like he had imagined just a few moments ago. This justified the constant fixation that Wilson had told himself many times before—he really hated dreaming.
Wilson was awake now. He was wide awake and walking to his office like he did every day. However, Wilson was unaware of what he was doing—his movements nothing but a subconscious method that was currently being used in order for him to make it through the day. He had to go through the day like this, otherwise his emotion would take over and he would not be able to work properly.
He had to make himself stop thinking. He had to make himself remove the repetition of the words that taunted his mind so wickedly. The words that Chase had yelled to him the other night.
There had to be a reason why he said that to him. Chase wasn't one to react in that manner. Then again, what did he know about Chase? He thought that the two of them had a connection regardless of whether Chase was with House or not. Maybe he had been wrong about that all along. Maybe it was his mind drugged up on passion that made him think that way instead of facing the reality.
Whenever he tried to ignore the subject it came back instantly, scratching at his skull.
Wilson had thought back to things that had preceded the angry reply. Chase and him drank beers, Chase crashed at his apartment, they had breakfast. Every single time they spent together, Chase had seemed to be holding something back but he hid it for the sake of talking to Wilson. Wilson wondered. Was it possible that Chase had put on an act the whole time? Wilson finalized on a quick conclusion. No. It must have been House.
Regardless, Wilson was not optimistic about the day. With the future expected relief that came from seeing that Chase was okay and looking well at work came the stinging reality that Chase wouldn't come and talk to him and warm him with his charming smile.
The day had went by slow and tedious. He had to do his work without any complaints. Cuddy had given him extra hours for "slacking off." It was as if the world was going out of its way for his misery.
Throughout the day, he had barely seen any sign of Chase, though he caught glimpses of House around the building. Every time he saw the other gentleman, his skin crawled. It didn't help that House seemed to always knew when Wilson looked at him, craning his neck slowly to turn to look at the male. Even from the long displacement between their locations, Wilson could see the grin pasted on his face. House knew what he was thinking. House knew that he was thinking of how he had harmed Chase. He loved it. He loved every moment of it.
Wilson would hurry up and look away before he was faced with the icy stare for too long. He had to stop himself from feeling intimidated by him.
His feeling of dread from looking at House did not compare to that of when he was first saw Chase again after the first few days of his absence. Wilson saw him—the pale figure of the man he cared so much for. His appearance mad Wilson's heart sink.
Chase was even thinner than the last encounter they had made, eyes sunken in the bags that were under them. What had frightened Wilson as the fact that he could tell that he looked like such a way even though the distance was very great. House's abuse was illuminated more than his usual bright features. But there was something else that threw Wilson off. Chase's hair. His hair…
Wilson found himself following the blonde. Even though he knew that he was probably the last person Chase would want to talk to at that particular moment. It seemed like something that could only be solved by him. Regardless of what Chase had said the couple of nights ago, he knew that he was in dire need of help.
"Wilson?" It was then that he realized that one of the nurses in the building had walked up to him to sign something for a report of something he hadn't paid attention. "Everything okay?" She asked, noticing him spacing out.
Wilson looked at her. "Yeah…" he said. "I'm sorry what do you need again?"
"I just need you to sign this for—."
Wilson took the paper out of her hand, signing it absentmindedly with no need of an explanation. He had a much bigger concern in his mind. He made sure he hadn't lost the direction or lost sight of where Chase was headed.
"Please explain it to me later." Wilson tried to say in a voice that didn't reflect his eagerness.
"Oh…okay."
Wilson immediately went for the direction that Chase had gone.
By the time he had reached the hallway, Chase had already disappeared into one of the rooms. It was the middle of the day so the hospital hallways weren't as crowded as he expected them to be.
Searching through the long hallway, Wilson stopped by multiple rooms in an attempt to find him.
He had finally tried the last room, hoping to find Chase inside the room.
He was shocked at what stood before him as he walked in. Chase looked even worse up close.
"Chase…" he said to himself more than to him.
Wilson couldn't believe it. House had single handedly destroyed everything he loved about Chase. His outgoing personality, which was now turned into one that was similar to an introvert. His shoulder length blonde hair now cut into a buzz. His nice skin now pale and dry.
"Ye—?" Chase was about to turn to answer but stopped dead in his movements when he saw Wilson's face. He pursed his lips and quickly returned to his work. He was doing a lab testing for one of his patience.
"What are you doing here?" Wilson asked the first question that came into mind.
"Doing extra lab work. Missed too many days." Chase said, not once looking up at Wilson. He spoke quietly but clearly. His words weren't slurred. He just didn't put any extra effort into talking.
It was obvious that Chase didn't want him there. This made him shift his feet slightly in discomfort. "What… happened to your hair?"
"Just got a haircut Wilson. S'Perfectly normal thing for people to do." His comments, though dogmatic, provided the perfect excuse for him to avoid the subject.
Chase wanting to do such a drastic change was something that didn't seem plausible.
And that's what he needed to find out.
"Chase since when—."
"I…" Chase muttered. "Told you not to talk to me anymore." He squeezed his hands tighter around the knob of the telescope he was working with, neck tensing up even further.
"I know." Wilson closed his eyes for a moment from the sting of remembering those words. He quickly regained his composure when he opened them to look into Chase's confused blue eyes. He knew then for sure, that there was no way that Chase could have been grave about his statement. "I…I know why you said Chase. But…" He paused. "I also know that you didn't mean it."
"What are you talking about?" Chase asked in shock of Wilson's statement.
"I don't know why you said it Chase. But I know you didn't mean it."
Wilson closed in on Chase whose hands were noticeably shaking as he struggled to complete the lab while ignoring Wilson at the same time. Wilson had to get to him before he was shut out once again.
"Chase…" Wilson said his name in hopes of getting a reply.
"Wilson just leave me alone," Chase whined, putting down the lab materials abruptly as he turned to look at Wilson, eyes noticeably more watery than before; his bottom lip was trembling and it looked like it caused him great physical pain in order to say that. He set down all of the equipment.
"You're in a lot of pain." Wilson didn't have to ask. He already knew. He had known for a long time.
Chase looked up at Wilson in annoyance before keeping up with his work.
"Chase," Wilson said. "Tell me what's wrong with you."
Wilson gripped Chase's wrist, wincing at the blonde's scream as he did so. However, he didn't let go. He didn't want to waste another opportunity of helping him. "Please."
He sounded desperate. He sounded pathetic. He sounded like a frightened child. But Wilson didn't care. He was worried about Chase, not his ego.
Chase looked back at Wilson. His face showed surprise momentarily before switching back to anger. Wilson grip was tight again. He hadn't realized this until he felt Chase's arm tremble with the action. He let up his grip but made it apparent that he wasn't going to let go. He sighed, letting go of pent up stress that built up in his guts. "Just tell me."
His voice shook.
Chase's expression suddenly changed. It relaxed into one of dread. He had given up on trying to hide whatever it was he had been desperately trying to hide. This wasn't really what Wilson wanted to receive a reaction. He wanted Chase to tell him willingly. He didn't want to force it upon him.
Now Chase looked in even worse shape. "Fine." He whispered, smiling with no trace of humour in it, eyes lighting up in despair. "Fine! You really want to know?" Chase yelled out again. In one fluid motion, Chase took off his jacket. Wilson stood back and watched in confusion, letting go of his wrist completely.
He then took off his shirt, never taking his eyes away from Wilson as he did so, eyes sparkling with a threatening gaze. "Happy?!"
Wilson stood there in shock. He felt his heart sank when he saw a repetitive pattern of black, blue, purple, gray throughout his torso. Chase's wrists were rubbed raw, a sickening shade of blood red and purple. It made Wilson feel even guiltier for gripping them so tight? Worst of all, he looked deathly frail, a big bruise covering his chest area. Chase's pronounced bones had jutted out more.
Wilson noticed that Chase was breathing hard once again and now that he was shirtless, he could see why.
"How did this happen? Your chest! House did this didn't he?" Wilson demanded the answer through gritted teeth.
"Stop! It doesn't matter anymore," Chase choked out. "I already gave you the answer that you wanted so stop asking and leave it alone!"
"Chase…if House is hurting you like this then you—."
"Don't say it," Chase suddenly pleaded. His standoffish attitude had subsided with his new emotion. "don't say it, please."
Wilson sighed. "Chase…you can't stay with him if he keeps treating you like this."
Chase looked down, biting his bottom lip, then looked up quickly. "Why…why do you care so much?" Chase asked hesitantly. His eyes twitch as tears streamed down his face. Wilson knew that it was a legit question. Chase wasn't used to sympathy.
It hurt him to see Chase like this. It hurt him to know that someone that meant so much to him felt insignificant to the point where he felt that he wasn't worthy of being cared about. It disturbed Wilson the more to think that Chase found sympathy as an abstract concept. He wanted to tell him. Oh How wrong he was. Chase was more than precious to be noticed by everyone.
"Because…" Wilson trailed off. He didn't know how to say it.
Wilson felt a strong bond with Chase. Wilson wasn't like all the other nurses who just thought that Chase was nice eye candy. Even though he was. And even as the blonde man looked at him with dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, he still glowed to Wilson. There was something about his personality that Wilson couldn't forget no matter how much House tried to block it away from the rest of the world.
He remembered it ever since the first time they met; the exact moment that Chase walked into his room with a confused expression. The first few days that they hung out together and Wilson introduced Chase to how things work in the hospital. They talked about things that he wasn't used to talking about. Wilson remembered seeing how hard working and intelligent he was especially coming from his background.
Then he remembered introducing him to House and his heart sank. This was his entire fault. If he had only admitted his feelings to the Aussie a long time ago, he would never have gone through this.
So as the blonde stared at him in lost confusion He decided to go with the words that he's wanted to tell chase for the past few weeks. "Because I love you."
Chase said nothing. He just stared. He stopped struggling however.
Wilson took this as a cue to continue before Chase fought against him again.
"I…I love you. I've always loved you." Wilson admitted, heart pounding faster. He breathed out the words, feeling the life drain out of him while he did so. He had never been so up front with his feelings in his life. Even if he had gotten to him before House, he wouldn't have said his feelings right away.
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you…that House…"
He no longer knew what to say. At first he was confident about what he was going to say but Chase's blank stare made him lose it quick. Even though he hadn't expected Chase to say he loved him back, he expected him to at least say…something.
Then Chase smiled; it was weak but it was a smile.
Then it soon became apparent as to Wilson why Chase hadn't replied to him. When the blonde opened his mouth to speak, blood trickled out of his mouth. His face turned into one that expressed fear. He was about to speak but he coughed, throwing up the blood that was now profusely flowing everywhere.
"Chase?" Wilson whispered
Wilson walked up to Chase, holding him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes when the man's body threatened to collapse. He brought his hand up to his face, trying to make him focus. Blood still came out of his mouth at an alarming rate and he watched as Chase gagged and gurgled in an attempt to take in some oxygen. Chase was looking at him now, eyes wide with alertness and body thrashing in panic.
"Chase?" he screamed.
The Aussie fell in front of him, only managing to be caught by Wilson moments before he hit the ground, his stare becoming glassy as Wilson gazed into it.
