I Can't Give You What You Want

Just Open Your Door to Me

Bang...

Bang...

The constant thumping of his fists against my door was an endless rhythm. Perfectly in time.

One...
Bang...

Two...
Bang...

One...

Will he ever stop?

"House, open your fucking door! God damn it!" He sounded on the verge of tears. No, I couldn't. I couldn't let him barge into my living room and ask what happened back at the hospital.
Flashback
"House." his voice is gentle. Soothing. Like a mother would use to sing her child to sleep.
I look up at him. His dark chocolate eyes locked on to my deep blue ones. Petal lips parted to say something, but were cut off when thin, stone lips interrupted them. My thin, stone lips.

Afterthat, he couldn't even look at me. I don't know why I did it. I don't love him, but I don't hate him either. It just felt so right, yet so wrong. I knew I shouldn't stay there, even when Wilson tried to grab my arm to hold me back, to try and get an explanation out of me. There was no way I could give him one; Because I couldn't find one myself.
I left without another word.
And he followed me all the way home....

Bang...

Bang...

The banging on the door snapped me out of my daze.

"House! Stop playing games with me! Let me in!" Wilson's voice was hoarse and raw. It sounded more like sandpaper than something you used to communicate with people.

Maybe if I'm really quiet he'll think Im not here...No, he followed me home...He saw me walk into my house...

He saw me leave him...

Bang...

Bang...

"Let me in House...Please...." Sounding so weak and helpless he still manages to make an effort. The effort works.
I can't take it.
Bang...
I have to.
Bang...
I need to.
Bang...
I need to let him in.
....
Silence. His banging stopped abruptly. I limp towards the door. The eerie silence made me uncomfortable. I felt the weight of the room press on me, as my heart rate increased and my breathing labored. Finally, my hand was on the knob.
Should I open it? Should I face him? Will he hit me? Will he laugh at me and call me a fag? I have been called worse, but by my best friend? I don't think I'll be able to handle that.

I opened it without another hesitation. No going back.

Wilson's head comes crashing down on my chest. I stumble back in surprise, yet I wasn't quick enough. The rest of his body falls onto mine. His chest was against my stomach and somehow our legs got intertwined. He wrapped his arms around my body in a weird hug.

When my senses finally started to kick in I felt my leg cry in agony and my chest was wet with Wilson's tears.

"House..." He sniffed. I looked down at the brown mass on the top of his head. As if on command my hand was resting softly against his matted, sweaty hair. He leaned into the touch, like he hadn't had human contact in years.

My hand touched something warm and wet. Way warmer then tears and hotter than sweat. I pulled my hand back to stare and see what I touched. I knew what it was and I didn't want to see it, but I had to confirm.

Red dyed my hand with its twisted color.

My heart stop mid-beat and I couldn't breathe. I'm a doctor. I should be uses to this, yet somehow because it's Wilsons. The sight makes me want to throw up.

My eyes scan towards the door, which is still open. It's stained with that same color. Realization and panic flew through me.

He had used his head to bang on the door.

My door.

The door I wouldn't open for him.

Now, he's laying on my chest; crying softly and holding on to me for dear life. Bleeding and scared. I abandoned him. I hurt him if not physically then mentally and emotionally. I'm a horrible friend. He does everything for me and what do I do? I bully him. Simple as that. I really am I terrible friend. He's bleeding from his head because of me.

Because I'm so selfish...

"House..." Wilson wimpered. I shushed him. Smiling softly.
"Don't worry Wilson. I'll take care of you." I resume petting his hair.

"I'll take good care of you"