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The room felt like it was spinning. The clock on the wall read 2:30 AM and House sat on the floor of his apartment against the couch with an empty pill bottle resting next to him.
He had planned this months in advance, be completely alone on a random night, slowly slipping away. Dying by his own hand seemed less scary than dying in a hospital of old age in his mind.
He remembered the after long, especially hard days he came so close to this situation only to chicken out at the last minute. Whether that had been throwing up substances, backing away from a moving car, or deciding to not let go of the wheel.
But now he had gone and done it. Finally.
Time had felt like it had slowed down and everything in the world was still. House had always wondered what dying felt like, apparently this was it. Everything felt so distant and fake, like the world around him never actually existed.
It felt like he was already dead.
But despite everything…it was sort of calm. Maybe it was his decreasing heartbeat or the slowing of his breaths, he wasn’t panicking.
He wasn’t in pain.
With as much coordination as he could, House fished his phone out of his pants pocket. He hadn’t written any letters, or a will, or who was in charge when he was gone. But he did have one person on speed dial.
–——————
Wilson couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t for a few days. Nights spent tossing and turning for hours had kept him up till the sun peered through the windows. So now he had often found himself wondering around his place at night, listening to the traffic, even doing chores he had been putting off for long periods of time.
Tonight he had been standing at the kitchen counter, polishing off a late night bowl of cereal when his phone rang beside him. Immediate confusion spread across his face.
He never got calls this late in the night. He sets the bowl aside and peers over the screen.
He audibly sighs at the name plastered across his screen. He could leave it to voicemail, just let it ring, but decided against it at the last moment. Even if what he was going to hear could be the biggest waste of time in the whole world, he might as well go for it just incase.
“House…hey, it’s almost 3 in the morning…what do you want?” Wilson said, bringing the phone to his ear, voice groggy from being half asleep.
He didn’t hear much on the other end, just some static and faint breathing.
Wilson waits for a beat before he speaks again.
“Are you there?” He questions.
A faint voice comes over the line, words slightly slurred and unclear.
“Hi…wi’son…how are you…”
Wilson hesitated on a reply for a moment, House never called to just “see how he was doing.” There was usually a reason or a need.
“Um…I’m good…yeah I’m jus’ up in my kitchen…where are you?” Nervousness creeps into the last part of his words.
“Tha’s good…I’m glad…I jus’ thought maybe I should say hi…and that…I love you.” House replies through the line.
Wilson’s heart skips a beat on the last words. Not in the decades long had they known each other had they ever said that sentence. Sure they did love each other, but that was through actions…not really through words. He began to feel a strange gut feeling arise.
Wilson blinks a few times, still trying to process what he heard.
“Are you stoned right now?” Is all he could manage to get out.
House manages a pitiful laugh as he speaks “maybe you could say something like that…my leg doesn’t hurt.”
Wilson sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, he swears if he had to go pick him up from some bar out in the city somewhere…
“House, where are you at right now?” Wilson questions again, a bit more irritated now.
There was a slight pause, only hearing the crackle of static until House answered.
“Apartment.” He says simply.
Wilson nods, though the other can’t see him. At least he’s not in the middle of nowhere. But the weird gut feeling Wilson has still didn’t stop.
“You know…” House says suddenly “you’re um…you’re my best friend. Well…um…my only friend really…”
Wilson doesn’t respond, just sits there listening. House had never spoken to him like this before. A bit of panic starts to spike in his chest.
“And I jus’ wanna say…that uh…I’m really grateful for that…” House could feel himself loosing consciousness, vision going in and out, they pills were definitely kicking in now.
Wilson anxiously raps his fingers against the hardwood surface of the countertop. Something was definitely wrong.
“House…I…I think I’m gonna come over. For your sake and-and maybe mine. Okay?” Wilson replies, trying to keep himself calm.
“I don’t think…I don’t think you wanna do that…” House says through the phone, voice shaky.
Wilson wedges the phone between his head and shoulder, pulling his shoes on.
“What—why are…listen…im just going over. I can make the drive.” Wilson argues.
“Doors locked.” House replies back.
“Well…” Wilson responds back, pulling on a coat “good thing I have a copy of your key.”
“Wi’sn…” House slurs, defeat in his voice.
“Just do me a favour and…stay on line for me? Please?” Wilson interjects, swinging the apartment door open.
–——————
The drive is quite short, that’s what it feels like at least when you speed. Wilson had ran a few red lights but not was really the time to worry about something like that. The phone sits on the passenger side seat, put on speaker.
Wilson had kept him talking almost the whole time until there was a sound that was like a thump on the other end of the line, that made Wilson panic even harder.
Once he pulled near to the curb of the sidewalk near the building, he got immediately, not bothering to even turn off the car engine.
He fiddled with the key in the door until it opened abruptly. He closed the door shut behind him urgently and looks around, heart pounding.
Not a moment later, he spots him. House on the floor, next to a phone, a cane, and…
A empty pill bottle.
“Fuck!” He exclaims. Wilson moves quickly towards the body, getting down on his hands and knees. He feels for a pulse. By some miracle there is one, very faint, but it’s there. He immediately rolls House over onto his back and starts doing compressions, trying to drag the life back into him.
“Come on House—don’t do this to me now.” Wilson whispers in between pumps. He goes for on awhile, arms starting to ache. He finally stops for a moment, leaning his head down towards Houses chest.
Still a faint heartbeat. He sighs heavily and continues again, he can feel the ribs below his hands shifting and moving, hell he might break one if he presses hard enough. If that’s what it would take to resuscitate him, Wilson would deal with the consequences later.
After another round he checks again, still the same. Wilson was starting to shake now, adrenaline pumping through his body like a freight train out of control.
Everything was starting to hurt, knees aching for him to get up, but Wilson stayed put and pushed down as hard as he could. The edges of his vision started to blur and sting. Whether it was a reaction to the ache or the distress, Wilson wasn’t sure, neither did he care.
Eventually he gave one final compression and fell back slightly. He breathed heavily and hard, eventually turning into hitched, short bursts of air.
He’d got there too late. There was a small window where he could’ve saved him and he missed it.
Wilson shuffled back closer to the body, hovering over it. His brain was felt like it was short circuiting, he couldn’t comprehend the situation in front of him.
He slowly put his head near Houses chest again.
There was nothing.
Wilson felt like he was suffocating, the world crushing down on him all at once.
“Oh—oh god—god—please…” Wilson breathed, voice trembling. His body shook with choked sobs and turmoil. He sat hunched over, forehead laying on Houses shoulder. Out of everything he wanted to happen tonight, this was the worst possible outcome. House could be a fucking dickhead, but despite everything he was his dickhead. Maybe they had their fights, but death was never wanted.
Wilson was angry, angry at himself and angry at House for being so careless with his life, even as cruel as it sounded. But he was, he was angry at him for a lot of things. Being an addict, being reckless, sabotaging everything. Perhaps anger wasn’t the best way to go about it. But Wilson cared. He cared about him a lot, even if it came out in unconventional ways.
He raised his head, feeling some composure finally starting to settle in. He stared down at the body, emotions still lingering.
Now while Wilson wasn’t as impulsive as House was, he had his moments.
He raises a hand slightly, and slams his fist right into Houses chest.
Not a moment later but a gasping and coughing House awoke on the floor. Wilson flinched, his eyes opened wide, eyebrows shot up.
“What—what the fuck—wha…” House stuttered, voice strained. Wilson still sat there, completely stunned. He watched as House crawled up onto his hands and knees. He stayed still there for a moment before his body shuddered violently and vomit spilled out onto the floor. Wilson shuffled over to him on his knees, laying a steady hand on Houses back.
“Oh my god—hey—Jesus…” Wilson said under his breath. House couldn’t respond, another wave of nausea took over and more bile spilled out onto the wooden floor. Wilson looked over the mess, there was small white pellets swimming around. He definitely had overdosed.
After the vomiting cleared, House tried to stand up. He started stumbling against the wall. Wilson immediately got to his feet as well, putting his hands on Houses shoulders.
“Woah—woah hey…let’s just sit.” He said calmly. House collapsed backwards onto the couch, a pained groan coming out as he landed. Wilson slowly sat beside him, still taking in everything that had happened in the last few minutes.
House sat there motionless for a while, just blinking. Wilson watched his movements, unsure of what he would do.
“What—what the hell is going…” he started. He looked to his left towards Wilson, and then to the right at the puddle of throw up on the floor. There was a few moments of silence until House put his head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth “oh shit…fuck…”
“Um…are you okay-“ Wilson started.
“Why are you here?” House interrupted, head shooting up, tone hostile.
“Uh…perhaps saving your life? You had an overdose.” Wilson replied back, eyebrows furrowing.
“I never asked you to do that.” House shot back.
Wilson sat there stunned. He had just rushed to his house, almost kicked down his door, did CPR, thought he had died, and this was how he was speaking to him.
“You cannot be fucking serious right now.” Wilson responded, an edge to his words “you cannot be mad at me for a lot of things…but this? Thats a whole new low, even for you.”
“I told you not to come here.” House argued back.
Wilson just scoffed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing “you wanted me to listen to someone under the influence of severe drug use? Do you even hear yourself?” He said, voice slightly rising.
“I was so close to being free and you took that from me.” House retorted.
“You were fucking dead for 10 minutes! Do you understand how terrifying that was for me?” Wilson yelled, giving House a light shove.
“That was the best 10 minutes of my life frankly.” House hissed.
“Wow, you come back from death and you still act like an ass. You never change.” Wilson says, crossing his arms.
“You don’t know what it’s like to wake up in agony every single day! I’ve had this planned for days, months…Hell, a life time.” House responds, voice slightly breaking at the end.
“Yes! Yes because my life is fucking perfect! I’ve never had a struggled ever! I’ve had it so good!” Wilson shot back sarcastically, standing up.
“Compared to me? Yeah probably.” House responded.
Wilson shakes his head “you are so—so self centred.”
“Oh…” House replied, voice low “you don’t want to play that card right now…”
“You know what? Yeah I’m always going to stand by it…it should’ve been you on that bus.” Wilson spat, staring daggers down at the man in front of him.
House felt his blood boil, he could feel himself shaking. He stood up, using the wall next to him for support. He met Wilson’s eyes, matching anger staring back at him.
“Go get fucked. Get the hell out of my place. You’re a real piece of shit.” House replied.
Wilson walked towards the door, still looking at House, he shook his head as he spoke “feelings mutual, dick.” He retorted. He door slammed shut loudly, a short echo following.
–——————
Wilson walked out to his car, which had been running for the past half hour he had been in there. He got in, feeling the heat blasting from the air ducts.
He sat back in the drivers seat, he couldn’t bring himself to back up.
Regret was swallowing him up inside the moment he stepped out of the room. Sure he had a right to be angry but to just leave after all that seemed more cruel than he wanted to let himself be. But he wasn’t ready to immediately go back into the place either.
He sat in the silence of the vehicle, only the sounds of the motor and the barely audible radio to keep him company. Wilson sighed and laid his head against the steering wheel. It was so late, his head was pounding, and honestly he was wanting to overdose himself at this point. He didn’t mean what he said. Not really. Wilson didn’t think House prolly meant it either.
If there was one thing they were both really good at, it was hurting each other. As unfortunate as it sounded.
He turned off the engine and got out of the car, locking it. He could’ve drive like this, not tonight. He walked gingerly back into the apartment complex and turned the door handle of Houses apartment, honestly surprised it was still open. He gently closed the door and took his shoes off.
House was sitting on the couch with what seemed to be a new shirt on. The puddle of bile was gone too.
Wilson slowly made his way over back towards the couch, sitting slightly more away from House than he usually would be. He didn’t speak.
Neither did he. But there was still some heavy tension in the air. Wilson didn’t know if he should be speak first, or even speak at all. A simple “I’m sorry” didn’t feel strong enough.
Didn’t feel like it meant anything. He looked over at House, whose expression hadn’t changed much. Just a simple dead-pan expression.
“Please don’t tell anyone about this.” House said suddenly, voice wavering.
“Oh…n-no i wasn’t…planning to.” Wilson replied quietly.
House just nodded in response. Wilson sighed, letting the silence fall again. He felt so useless, what was stronger than “I’m sorry”? He stirred it around in his mind for a while until he thought of at least…something.
“Why didn’t you call me before you took them?” He asked softly.
House shifted slightly on the couch “you know why.” He said in response.
“Maybe. But I want to hear it from you.” Wilson replied, looking over.
He heaved out a heavy sigh “I didn’t know—if you would pick up.” House admitted, fidgeting with his cane.
“But then you called me after?” Wilson questioned, puzzled “why?”
“I don’t…know. I wasn’t exactly in the best position of making rational choices.” House responded, shrugging.
“I was awake, I would’ve answered if you called.” Wilson said.
They both fell silent again after. Wilson could tell House was thinking. Of what he wasn’t sure. He was never sure. He’d pay good money to know what was going on inside that man’s head sometimes.
“I thought I was going to be dead so…i just thought if there was one person I would call…” House said, running a hand over his face.
When felt a faint smile form “I am your emergency contact.”
House nodded, expression still the same.
Wilson drummed his hands on his lap, and inhaled “i dunno if this is a big ask, but it’s late-“
“You can stay.” House said, cutting him off.
“I mean, my car does have gas.” Wilson replied, gesturing towards the door.
“You look like shit. stay here.” House repeated, standing up.
Wilson huffed out a small laugh, standing up as well “way to be direct i guess…” he says under his breath.
“Blankets are in the laundry room, pillows…are on the floor but you can use them.” House says, tapping his cane against the ground.
“Thanks.” Wilson says, picking them up off the floor and tossing them on the couch.
House nods and turns to the hallway when Wilson catches his sleeve. He turns back, stopping. Wilson clears his throat before he talks.
“If anything else happens…wake me up. I’ll be just out here.” Wilson explains.
House hums, waiting for anything else. Wilson hesitates before moving forward pulling him into a hug. A nice tight one, the kind you give as if the person will evaporate if you let go. House goes slightly stiff, unsure how to respond.
Wilson breaths in shakily “please don’t hurt yourself tonight. Please.” He whispered
House swallows before he responds “I won’t.” He says simply.
Wilson steps back, patting him on the arm “alright, night House.” He says calmly.
“Night, Wilson.”